You and Jay were never really friends. Not enemies either—just two people who always ended up in the same class year after year. From elementary to middle school, and now high school. He was always the quiet one, the kind of boy who sat at the back of the room, hood up, earphones in. You didn’t talk much, maybe a nod in the hallway or when assigned to the same group project.

But something shifted in your third year of high school.

It started small—he held the door open for you one morning, eyes meeting for half a second longer than usual. Then, he started showing up at the library around the same time as you. He didn’t say anything, just sat a few tables over, flipping through his worn notebooks.

Then one day, you left your water bottle in the cafeteria. You didn’t even realize until your next class, but when you walked in, Jay was already there—your bottle sitting neatly on your desk.

You stared. “Did you…?”

He didn’t look up. “Figured you’d need it.”

You sat down slowly. “Thanks, Jay.”

And for the first time in years, he glanced over with a small smile. Quiet, but real.