I was almost beginning to forget about Sam—almost. But then came Bille, whom I had updated seven months after our school tour. She refused to let the memory of him fade. She teased me endlessly with his name. Not only that—she made me switch seats, just so I'd end up next to him. Sometimes, she'd "accidentally" push me toward him, forcing us to stumble into each other, creating moments that felt straight out of a C-drama.
And that made forgetting him impossible.
Being in the same class as Sam already made it hard enough to avoid him, but Bille's teasing only pulled me closer. Every nudge, every joke, every smirk he gave me chipped away at the distance I tried to keep. Over time, it started again—that feeling that I was being seen by him. And this time, it felt more real. He began talking to me more than usual. And I? I felt visible—like I mattered.
I smiled like a fool when he cracked jokes with me, laughed when he shared random thoughts, and felt something flutter inside when he showed me his sketches or asked for help with his studies. Every time he called my name, it felt like my heart skipped a beat.
But a part of me still held onto the fear from that past misunderstanding. It lingered quietly in my chest. Still, whenever I caught him looking at me, my cheeks would burn hotter than ever—I blushed so hard it was impossible to hide. The way his eyes lingered when we talked, the softness in his gaze, made me fall harder.
And then came the compliments—ones I never expected but always remembered.
He once said my hazel-brown eyes were pretty. Another time, it was my voice during a speech. And once—he even complimented the softness of my hands.
But what about him?
He's tall. Stupidly tall. Freakishly handsome. Good-looking in a way that's annoyingly charming. Friendly. Warm. And maybe, just maybe, impossible not to fall for.
Lately, I found myself waiting for the smallest interactions with him—those short exchanges that felt like little sparks in an otherwise ordinary day. A glance across the classroom, or the way he leaned in just a little closer when he spoke to me. I started noticing things I hadn't before—the way he ran his fingers through his hair when he was nervous or the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. It wasn't just a silly crush anymore. It was something softer, deeper. And yet, I didn't know what he truly felt. Maybe I was just a friend to him—or maybe, he was feeling it too, quietly, just like me. The not-knowing both thrilled and terrified me. But one thing was certain: avoiding him was no longer an option. He had already found a space in my heart, and no matter how hard I tried, he wasn't leaving it anytime soon.