School trips are supposed to be fun.

That’s what I told myself as I packed my bag, picked the cutest hoodie, and made sure my lip gloss was perfect.

Everyone was excited—laughing, running, taking selfies on the bus.

I smiled and played along, like always.

But inside, I felt different this time.

Because she was going too.

We weren’t close.

Not really.

But lately, I kept noticing her more.

The way she bit her lip when she was nervous, how she always gave her snacks to someone else first, the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about something she loved.

It wasn’t normal.

I wasn’t supposed to care.

But I did.

At the rest stop, she offered me a drink.

“It’s peach tea. I thought you might like it.”

I took it, my fingers brushing against hers.

Too soft.

Too warm.

I looked away quickly.

“Thanks…”

“You’re welcome.”

She said, with that soft smile that always made my chest feel weird.

I told myself to stop being stupid.

But I didn’t.

That night, after dinner, we all sat around a small fire outside the cabins.

Someone brought a speaker, and soon people were dancing, teasing, shouting.

I laughed when I needed to, but I kept glancing at her.

She was sitting on a blanket, holding a cup of hot chocolate with both hands.

Her cheeks were pink from the cold.

She looked like a scene from a drama.

I wanted to sit beside her.

So I did.

“Cold?”

I asked.

She nodded, hugging her cup tighter.

I gave her my scarf.

“Here.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

I said before I could stop myself.

She looked surprised, but smiled.

“Thank you, Soo-ah.”

That was the first time she said my name like that.

Soft.

Like it meant something.

Please, mean something.

Later, in the girls' cabin, everyone was busy doing face masks and talking about boys.

I laughed along, pretending like I always do.

But then someone asked,

“Hey, who do you think is the cutest in school?”

My heart jumped.

She was lying on the bunk across from mine, scrolling on her phone. Not listening.

Or maybe she was.

I tried to joke. “Me, obviously.”

Everyone laughed.

But I looked at her.

And she was looking back.

Just for a second. A small glance. A quiet smile.

And I knew.

It wasn’t just me.

Around midnight, I couldn’t sleep.

I went outside to get some air. The wind was cold, and I didn’t bring a jacket.

But I needed space. I needed to breathe.

I didn’t expect to see her there.

“Soo-ah?” she said.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

I replied.

“Same.”

We stood in silence.

The only sound was the wind in the trees and our breathing.

She turned to me.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why are you always pretending?”

That hit me hard.

I opened my mouth.

Closed it again.

“I… don’t know. I guess it’s easier than being real.”

She looked at me with sad eyes.

“You don’t have to pretend around me.”

My heart cracked open.

I stepped closer.

“You’re the only person who sees me.”

“I always see you.” she whispered.

And then—I kissed her.

Just for a second.

But it felt like everything.

The next morning, we acted normal.

No one noticed.

No one asked.

But she sat next to me on the bus ride back, our hands barely touching under the blanket we shared.

She smiled.

And this time, I didn’t look away.

Because maybe…

This was the start of something real.

"What movie you wanna watch?"

I asked smiling while holding her hand, it didnt felt weird like i thought it was, it felt really good, too good.