The atmosphere in Room 302 was thick with a particular kind of academic dread. It was Tuesday morning, and the humidity outside was making the classroom windows fog up at the edges. Sophie sat at her desk, her fingers mindlessly picking at a loose thread on her sweater.
Mr. Dawson was at the front of the room, tapping a stack of grading rubrics against his podium. The sound was rhythmic and sharp, like a countdown.
"Alright, class," Mr. Dawson announced, his voice cutting through the morning fog. "For our mid-term unit on the evolution of urban spaces, we'll be doing a collaborative project. This isn't just a poster board affair; I want deep research, local context, and a joint presentation."
A collective groan rippled through the room. Collaborative meant partners. And partners usually meant one person did all the work while the other person stared at their phone.
"And before anyone asks," Mr. Dawson added, a mischievous glint in his eye, "I've already selected the pairs. I want you working with fresh perspectives—not just your best friends."
Sophie's heart did a sudden, violent kick against her ribs. She felt Lila's eyes burn into the side of her head from the desk behind her.
"Oh god," Sophie whispered to her notebook. "Please let it be Sarah. Or Mark. Or literally anyone who doesn't make me forget how to speak English."
Mr. Dawson started reading from his clipboard. "Lila and Marcus. Sarah and Toby. Jessica and Ben..."
With every name called, the pool of potential partners shrank. Sophie felt like she was standing on a disappearing island. She squeezed her eyes shut. Don't be him. Don't let it be him. It would be too much. I'm not strong enough for forty minutes of eye contact.
"Sophie Green..." Mr. Dawson paused, adjusting his glasses.
Sophie held her breath until her lungs felt like they were going to pop.
"...and Ethan Carter."
The world didn't stop, but it certainly slowed down. Sophie felt a rush of blood to her ears, a loud whooshing sound that muffled the rest of the names. She didn't dare look up. She kept her gaze fixed on a coffee stain on Mr. Dawson's desk.
Of course. The universe wasn't just cruel; it was a comedian.
"I knew it!" Lila's voice was a sharp, delighted hiss behind her. "The universe is a fan of your life, Sophie! This is basically destiny."
"Destiny is a horror movie," Sophie hissed back, her hands trembling as she grabbed her pen.
Across the room, Ethan didn't jump. He didn't groan. He just shifted in his seat, turning his head slightly toward her. When Sophie finally found the courage to glance over, he gave her a small, calm nod, the same one from the cafeteria, but this time it felt official. It felt like a contract.
The library was the only place Sophie felt truly safe, but today, it felt like a cage.
She arrived ten minutes early for their first meeting, choosing a table in the back corner where the shelves of encyclopedias provided a dusty barrier from the rest of the world. The air smelled of old paper, vanilla-scented glue, and the faint, metallic scent of the heating vents.
She spent those ten minutes obsessively organizing her materials. Her pens were lined up by color. Her notebook was open to a fresh page. She had three different highlighters ready. She looked like she was preparing for a legal trial rather than a history project.
Then, the heavy oak doors of the library creaked open.
Ethan walked in. He wasn't rushing. He had a way of moving that suggested he was never late, even if the clock said otherwise. He spotted her immediately, partly because she was the only one in the back corner, and partly because she was probably glowing with nervous energy.
"Hey," he said, pulling out the heavy wooden chair opposite her. It made a loud, echoing scraeak on the floor.
"Hi," Sophie said. Her voice didn't squeak this time, but it was thin, like a stretched rubber band.
He set his bag down and leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. Today he was wearing a navy-blue sweater with the collar of a white shirt poking out. He looked... clean. Effortless. He looked like the kind of person who never had ink stains on their thumbs.
"So," Ethan said, his dark eyes scanning the meticulous fortress of stationery she had built. "You look prepared. Should I be intimidated?"
Sophie felt her face heat up. "I just... I like to be organized. Projects are easier when you have a plan."
"I agree," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "I'm glad I got paired with someone who actually cares. Most people in this school think 'research' means a five-minute Google search on their way to class."
Sophie felt a tiny, warm spark of pride. He was complimenting her, sort of.
"I was thinking," she started, opening her notebook to show him her brainstorm. "We could focus on historical architecture. Specifically, how the old textile mills shaped the layout of this town. There are some incredible blueprints in the local archives."
As she spoke, Ethan leaned in closer to look at her sketches. He was so close she could see the faint, dark lashes framing his eyes. The scent of him, that clean, rain-like smell filled her personal space, making it very difficult to remember how sentences worked.
"This is actually really good, Sophie," he murmured, his finger tracing a line she'd drawn. "Look at this section here. If we link the mill's closure to the growth of the downtown area, we could show a direct line of evolution."
For the next twenty minutes, the "crush" part of Sophie's brain took a backseat to the "nerd" part. They actually worked well together. He was smart, not just 'good grades' smart, but 'thinks about things differently' smart. He challenged her ideas in a way that made them better.
But the silence of the library was dangerous. It made every tiny sound feel monumental.
Sophie reached for her blue highlighter at the exact same moment Ethan reached for the stapler. Their hands collided.
It wasn't a "brush." It was a full-on contact. His skin was warm, slightly rougher than she expected, and the touch sent a literal jolt of electricity up her arm. Sophie pulled her hand back as if she'd been burned, her heart doing a frantic, fluttering dance.
"Sorry," she blurted out, her voice echoing in the quiet room.
Ethan didn't pull back immediately. He paused, his hand still resting on the table where hers had been a second before. He looked at her, his expression unreadable.
"Are you okay, Sophie?" he asked softly. "You seem... a little jumpy."
"I'm fine!" she said, her voice a bit too loud for a library. A nearby freshman glared at her. "I just... I drank too much coffee this morning. Jittery. You know how it is. Caffeine. Science."
Ethan watched her for a moment longer, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Right. Science."
He didn't push it. He just went back to the notes, but the air between them had changed. It felt thicker, charged with a tension that hadn't been there before. Sophie found herself staring at his hands as he wrote, the way his knuckles moved, the steady rhythm of his pen.
By the time the librarian flicked the lights to signal closing time, Sophie felt like she'd lived an entire lifetime in that corner.
"Good start," Ethan said, standing up and swinging his bag over his shoulder. "Same time Thursday?"
"Thursday. Yeah. Absolutely. I'll be here," Sophie said, her words stumbling over each other in her rush to be agreeable.
He gave her that small, polite nod but this time, it felt like there was a spark behind it. "See you then, Sophie."
She watched him walk away, her forehead hitting the cool surface of the wooden table the moment the library doors closed behind him.
"I'm alive," she whispered to the dust motes dancing in the air. "I survived. Barely."
She gathered her pens, her fingers still tingling where his hand had touched hers. Lila was waiting outside the library, leaning against a locker with a look that said she had been waiting for this moment all her life.
"So?" Lila demanded. "Did you faint? Did he propose over a stapler?"
Sophie groaned, but she couldn't hide the smile. "We're doing architecture. And he... he said I was prepared."
"Architecture," Lila echoed, rolling her eyes. "You two are the most boring rom-classics I've ever seen. But hey, it's a start."
As Sophie walked home, the evening air felt cooler, but her chest felt warm. The project wasn't just a grade anymore. It was a bridge. And for the first time, she felt like she might actually be brave enough to cross it.