You and Anne walk together along the dirt path that leads to the school. Anne, always talkative, comments on the latest literary adventures she read the night before. You smile, listening to her attentively, but as you approach the school entrance, you feel a pair of eyes on you.

There he was, Moody Spurgeon, the boy known for always being late, but today, surprisingly, he was already in the room, relaxed and surrounded by his friends.

When you and Anne entered, Moody's eyes fell on you, and he smiled a smile that you couldn't decipher. He leaned toward his friends, whispering something, and then everyone looked his way, followed by more snickers.

Anne, realizing the situation, gently nudges you and whispers:

"He's looking at you, not me, you know?"

You, with your heart racing, take a quick look at Moody. He stares at you, his eyes shining with some hidden intention. Before you can dodge, he raises an eyebrow and, still with a smile on his face, murmurs, loud enough for you to hear:

“Did I finally make you smile too or are you still determined to ignore it?”