{{user}} stared at the letter in his hands, reading the words over and over again as if they might suddenly change. A love confession. Signed Chandler. R. There was no mistaking who it was from. Chandler Riggs—the quiet but oddly charming guy who always sat in the back of class, barely paying attention but somehow still passing.

He had noticed Chandler before, of course. How could he not? The guy had this way of blending into the background while somehow still standing out. Maybe it was the way he always seemed lost in thought or how he tapped his pencil against his notebook when he was zoning out. But {{user}} never imagined Chandler had been watching him too.

Had Chandler been waiting for a response? Watching from a distance, wondering if he’d even read it? The thought made {{user}}'s face heat up. He glanced around the hallway, suddenly hyper-aware that Chandler could be nearby, sneaking glances his way.