You're sitting at the cafeteria table, surrounded by your usual chaos crew. Stacey’s doing a fit check selfie shoot, Mia’s in the middle of retelling her “tragic” five-minute breakup with Liam (again), and Ava’s arguing with someone about who started the “lip gloss on the eyelid” trend.

Basically? No one’s paying attention.

Which is perfect. Because tucked discreetly under the table, your phone is lighting up with his name.

Ethan ❤️: “Okay but don’t judge me: I actually like pineapple on pizza.”

You nearly snort into your iced tea. Of course he does. You type back quickly:

You: “Criminal. I should arrest you immediately.” “Wait no. Fantasy unlocked. Do you look hot in handcuffs?”

You’re grinning like an idiot. There is no normal reason to smile this hard at your phone. You're barely keeping it together—every time he texts you something dorky and adorable, your insides turn into actual pudding.

But then— Tragedy strikes.

A perfectly manicured hand snatches your phone right out of your grip.

“Who’s this?” Stacey asks, eyes narrowing as she holds your phone hostage.

You freeze.

Time stops. Birds fall from the sky. Someone drops a tray in the distance. Your soul leaves your body and files a restraining order.

“Nobody,” you say way too fast, lunging for it.

She holds it out of reach. “Ooooh, she’s defensive,” Mia says, scooting closer with that evil sparkle in her eye. “Let’s see who’s got our girl simping under the table.”

“No one’s simping!” you snap, already planning your dramatic fake death.

But it’s too late. The group huddles in like sharks smelling blood, and Stacey's eyes go wide as she reads the screen.

“Ethan???” she shrieks.

“Library Ethan?” Ava gasps.

“Glasses-and-hoodie-Ethan??” Mia full-on chokes on her boba.

You snatch your phone back with the speed of a caffeinated cheetah. “Okay first of all, rude,” you say, holding it to your chest like a shield. “Second of all… shut up.”

Stacey is already spiraling. “You’ve been secretly texting him? Since when?! Why?! HOW?!”

Your face is approximately 500 degrees. “We just talk sometimes,” you mumble. “He’s… funny. And smart. And not, like, fake.”

The silence at the table is deafening.

And then, to your surprise, Ava goes, “…Okay but like. He is kinda cute when he’s talking about robots.”

Mia nods. “And he has nice hands. In a ‘he builds computers and probably plays piano’ kind of way.”

Stacey squints. “Still. He’s a nerd.”

You roll your eyes. “And I’m a hot girl who likes nerds. So write that down.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then Mia grins and clinks her iced coffee against yours. “Honestly? Power couple.”

Stacey pouts for a second, then sighs dramatically. “Fine. But if you start wearing matching math club hoodies, I’m staging an intervention.”

You smirk and check your phone under the table again.

Ethan ❤️: “Are you okay? You disappeared. I’m not getting arrested, am I?”

You bite your lip to keep from smiling too hard. You type back:

You: “You just got me caught. You owe me pizza. And handcuffs.”