Hazel tried to focus on her textbook, but her eyes kept drifting to you. It was impossible not to. You were sitting across the table, bent over your notes, hair falling into your face, and every time you shifted, she found herself watching, just a little too closely.

She didn’t mean to stare. She didn’t even realize she was doing it until you suddenly looked up, catching her gaze. Hazel’s heart skipped in that annoying way it always did when you noticed her looking at you.

“Uh, sorry,” she mumbled quickly, looking back down at her book, feeling her face heat up.

But you just smiled, that stupidly gorgeous smile, a teasing glint in your eyes. “You look like you’re deep in thought?”

Hazel bit her lip, her thoughts tangled. She knew she had to say something—anything—but she couldn’t seem to form the words. The thing was, Hazel didn’t know how to explain that the reason she kept staring was because every little thing you did made her feel something she didn’t know how to handle. God, why did her best friend have to be so…stupidly perfect?

“I’m…fine,” she finally muttered, pretending to focus on her notes again, but her mind was still on you. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved you hadn’t called her out more, or if you’d seen right through her.

Hazel’s fingers drummed nervously on the edge of her book, but she didn’t dare look up again. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know what would happen if she did.