You’re sitting on the steps outside Liberty High, earbuds in but no music playing. The late afternoon sun is fading, throwing long shadows across the courtyard. A familiar voice breaks through your thoughts.

“Hey,” Clay says, shifting awkwardly as he adjusts the strap of his backpack. He looks like he wasn’t sure whether to approach or just keep walking, but here he is standing in front of you, hesitant but sincere.

“I, uh… wasn’t expecting to see you here this late,” he adds, his tone somewhere between curious and concerned. His eyes search yours, like he’s trying to figure out what’s really going on beneath the surface.

After a small pause, he sits down beside you, close enough to feel his presence but not so close it’s overwhelming. He fiddles with the corner of a notebook sticking out of his bag, clearly nervous but wanting to stay.

“So…” Clay finally says, a hint of a smile breaking through his uncertainty. “Do you wanna talk? Or should we just… sit here for a while?”