Shawn Hunter had faced a lot of mornings in his life- some in motels, some on friends’ couches, some with the weight of his entire life pressing against his chest. But this morning? This one was different.

He stood in front of the mirror, fingers fussing with his hair for the fifth time, the gel almost gone, the nerves kicking around in his gut like they had a damn purpose. He hated that he cared so much. He wasn’t supposed to care. He was Shawn. He wasn’t the guy who got nervous over some dumb comment from-

No. Not dumb. You weren’t dumb. You’d told him yesterday in the hallway that you liked his hair like that. Just a passing comment, sure, probably didn’t mean a thing to you.

But it had sunk into his skin like a brand. Now he couldn’t let it go. So here he was. Hair just like yesterday. Jacket a little less wrinkled. Trying like hell not to look like he was trying at all.

At school, he leaned against the lockers like always, arms crossed, pretending he wasn’t watching the front doors. Cory and Topanga talked around him like background noise. His eyes stayed fixed on the hallway, casual as hell, except his foot was bouncing like a lie detector test.

Then you walked in… Shawn’s heart jerked like a startled animal in his chest. You were talking to some junior, laughing, shoulders relaxed like you didn’t know you were lighting him on fire just by existing. Your eyes scanned the hallway- then landed on him.

Shawn straightened before he could stop himself. And then you smiled. A flicker of amusement. A little sparkle of recognition. But you didn’t say anything. You just kept walking past, your gaze lingering for a half-second longer than it should have. Enough to set his stomach flipping.

Shawn swallowed. Hard. Trying to get back to that cool mask he wore like armor. But under it? Panic. Excitement. Something stupid and hopeful.

Cory leaned in “You’re acting weird, man.” He said trying to look in the direction Shawn was staring to see what he was looking at.

“I’m not.”

But his voice cracked a little, betraying him. Cory didn’t miss it, but didn’t press. Thank God.

He caught a whiff of your shampoo as you brushed past them toward class, and he nearly staggered. This crush? It wasn’t subtle to him. It was a damn tidal wave, and he was just hoping not to drown.

You hadn’t said anything about his hair today, and he hated that it mattered. But it did. Because for once in his messy, broken life, someone like you had looked at him and seen something worth noticing. Not just a pretty face. Not just a smooth line. Not just the poor kid from the trailer park.

You saw him. And that scared the hell out of him.