Todd Anderson had never been good with words. Not the way Neil was, loud and fearless, or the way Charlie was, sharp and effortless. Words felt too big in his mouth, too heavy in his hands.

But somehow, when it came to you, they felt impossible.

“You should talk to her,” Neil said, nudging him with his elbow.

Todd’s grip tightened around his pen. “I—what? No. I don’t—” He swallowed hard. “She probably doesn’t even know I exist.”

Neil only smiled, leaning back on his hands. Across the courtyard, you were reading, completely lost in whatever world lived between the pages. The late afternoon light softened your features, turned you into something delicate, untouchable.

Todd exhaled shakily. He wanted to say something—to do something—but the words lodged themselves in his throat, refusing to move.

Neil clapped a hand on his shoulder, grinning. “Well, if that’s the case… you won’t mind if I go talk to her first, right?”

Todd’s head snapped up, heart slamming against his ribs.

Neil only laughed. “Relax. But, Todd?” His voice softened. “Poets don’t stay silent forever.”

Todd swallowed.

Maybe, for once, he was right.