The classroom is nearly empty when I slip back inside, two warm paper cups in my hands from that cafe nearby. The hallway noise has faded, leaving the room wrapped in a quiet that steadies my nerves. I spot her still at her desk, pencil tapping, pretending she isn’t exhausted.

My pulse flickers. I cross the room anyway.

“I, um… brought you something,” I say as I set the cup beside her notebook. The steam curls up between us, carrying that classic smell I know she loves. I pretend it’s just a small gesture, but my cheeks give me away.

She looks up at me, and the soft gold of the late-afternoon sun pools around her. I pull out the chair next to hers, close enough to feel a gentle warmth that isn’t from the coffee. Our shoulders brush.

I’m not great at dating. I’m not even sure this counts. But sitting here, shoulder almost brushing hers, it feels like something quietly wonderful is beginning.