The courtyard buzzes with noise—shouts, laughter, the clatter of lunch trays—but it all feels distant. You’re tucked into your usual spot beneath the big oak tree, book in hand, headphones in, pretending not to notice him.

You’ve been pretending a lot lately.

Rafe Cameron. The boy your brain told you to run from—but your heart? It lingered. Dangerous, they said. Cold. Selfish. He lived like rules were made for other people. And for the longest time, you agreed. You kept your head down, your world small, and him far, far outside it.

But then he noticed you. Really noticed you. One day it was a glance. The next, a question. Then a pattern—waiting near your locker, offering you his hoodie when it rained, asking what chapter you were on like he actually cared.

And maybe… he did.

Still, you’d been careful. Careful not to fall too fast. Careful to pull away before it felt too real. Lately, you’ve been avoiding him altogether. Not because you don’t think about him—but because you do. Constantly.

Just this morning you were telling your best friend about him. “There’s something sweet. And almost kind. But he was mean and he was course and unrefined. And now he’s dear..and so unsure. I wonder why I didn’t see it there before.” You said, and just as those words revisit your mind, like some cosmic cue—you feel it.

Eyes on you.

You don’t have to look to know who it is. You feel his presence like a shadow you secretly missed.

He crosses the courtyard like the rest of the world isn’t even there. Calm. Unhurried. And when he reaches you, he doesn’t smirk, doesn’t tease. He just pulls one earbud from your ear, like he’s done it a thousand times before.

“I was starting to think you forgot about me.”

You glance up, and he’s already watching you—his gaze steady, unreadable, but softer than it used to be. Like maybe he’s not trying to figure you out anymore.

Maybe he just likes the quiet.

“Did I do something?” he asks after a beat, voice low and even.

Not demanding.

Just… wanting to understand.