You didn’t find the first letter until Wednesday. It was folded precisely, tucked in your locker like a secret. Your name was written in shaky cursive, the paper faintly smelling of lavender.

You probably don’t even notice how kind you are. Not in that fake way people pretend to be. You just…are. I saw you hold the door for someone yesterday, even with full hands. And your laugh—it’s like sunlight. I wanted to tell you, but I got scared. — Someone who sees you.

Sweet. A little strange. But sweet.

By Friday, there was another. Slipped under your water bottle during gym, sealed with a frog sticker.

You smiled at me today. You didn’t know it, but you did. I thought about it all through chemistry. I’ve never had a crush like this before. It hurts, in a good way. Like I’m full of bees, and they’re all buzzing your name. — Yours, quietly.

You started paying attention. Watching who lingered a second too long. Who looked away when you looked back.

The third letter was tucked in your textbook during sixth period.

You looked tired today. I hope you’re okay. I saw you nearly crying after lunch. I didn’t mean to. I just…hate seeing you hurt. I wanted to hug you. Or say something. But I got scared again. I’ll try to be braver. You deserve someone brave. — Me.

That’s when you saw her.

A few lockers over. Big glasses, too-straight posture, pretending to dig through her locker like she hadn’t been watching you read.

Misty Quigley.

You turned back around, and something in your bag crinkled.

Another frog sticker.

This one sparkly.