The fluorescent lights of the Monday morning hallway felt unnecessarily bright, reflecting off the polished linoleum in a way that made Sophie's head throb. Usually, Mondays were a day for autopilot, a day to slide through the crowds like a ghost, unnoticed and unbothered.
But today, the air felt thick with the residue of her Sunday night realizations. Every time a locker slammed, it sounded like a gavel. Every time a group of students laughed, she wondered if they could see the word ETHAN written across her forehead in invisible, glowing ink.
"You look like someone just shoved a cloud of worry into your backpack and told you to carry it up a mountain," Lila remarked, appearing at her side with the suddenness of a jump-scare.
Sophie let out a long, ragged exhale, her grip tightening on the straps of her bag. "It's just... I'm stuck, Lila. My brain is like a browser with fifty tabs open, and all of them are playing different memories of last week on a loop. The library. The ink smudge. The way he looked at me. It's driving me crazy."
Lila didn't offer a sympathetic pat. Instead, she stepped in front of Sophie, forcing her to a halt right in the middle of the morning traffic. Students swerved around them, grumbling, but Lila didn't blink. She grabbed Sophie by the shoulders, her gaze sharp and unyielding.
"Sophie, listen to me," Lila said, her voice dropping into a tone of absolute serious-friendship. "You are currently in the 'Obsession cul-de-sac.' It's cozy, it's full of dreams, and it's where crushes go to die of old age. You've cataloged every quirk. You've memorized his thumb-scar. You've even dreamt about him in high-definition golden light. But none of that matters if you stay a spectator."
"I'm not a spectator," Sophie protested weakly. "We're project partners. We talk."
"You talk about drainage pipes and Treaty terms," Lila countered. "That's safety. You're hiding behind the 'Good Student' mask because you're terrified of the 'Sophie' mask. But being scared is a tax you pay for caring about someone. And right now? You're overpaying."
Sophie bit her lip, looking down at her sneakers. "What if I make it weird, Lila? What if he's just being nice because he's a nice guy, and I come in and ruin the balance?"
"Then it's ruined," Lila said bluntly. "And you'll survive. Embarrassment is a bruise, Soph; it fades. But regret? Regret is a scar. It stays. He's noticed you. I've seen the way he looks at you when you're not looking at him. He's waiting for a signal, and you're standing there with a blank screen."
Lila released her shoulders and gave her a small, firm shove toward the history wing. "One thing. That's your quota for today. One intentional, non-project-related interaction. No spiraling. No spreadsheets. Just be a human being near another human being. Deal?"
Sophie swallowed the lump in her throat. The spark of courage from the morning was finally catching fire, fueled by Lila's brutal honesty. "Deal. I'll... I'll do it."
The History Class High-Wire Act
The history classroom smelled of old chalk and the faint, metallic scent of the radiator. Sophie sat at her desk, her hands folded primly on top of her notebook, though her fingers were actually trembling.
Across from her, Ethan was already in "Focus Mode." He was tapping his pencil against his chin—Tap. Tap. Tap.—as he read through the chapter on the Treaty of Versailles. The morning light caught the edge of his jaw, and for a second, the "Dream Version" of him threatened to overlap with the "Real Version."
One thing, Sophie. Just one thing.
She didn't wait for him to look up. She didn't wait for the "perfect moment," because she knew now that perfect moments were just excuses for cowards.
She leaned across the narrow gap between their desks. The distance was barely two feet, but it felt like crossing an ocean.
"Hey," she whispered.
Ethan's pencil stopped mid-tap. He looked up, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. He wasn't used to her initiating. "Hey. Everything okay?"
"Yeah," Sophie said, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. "I'm just... I'm having a hard time with the Treaty of Versailles. My brain keeps turning the 'Fourteen Points' into a blur of text. Did you actually understand the reparations part?"
It was a small lie; she understood it perfectly, but it was a bridge.
Ethan's expression shifted instantly from "Focus" to "Helpful." He leaned in, pulling his notebook toward the center of the shared space. "Oh, yeah. That part is a mess. The way the textbook explains it is unnecessarily complicated. Here, look at how I broke it down."
As he began to explain, Sophie didn't just listen to the facts. She watched the way his eyes lit up when he got to the parts he found interesting. She noticed the way he lowered his voice so Mr. Dawson wouldn't hear them, creating a tiny, private theater of two.
"See?" he said, pointing to a diagram he'd drawn. "It wasn't just about the money. It was about the pride. That's what made it so volatile."
"Volatile," Sophie repeated, her voice soft. She wasn't looking at the diagram anymore. She was looking at him. "Like a spark in a dry forest."
Ethan paused, his gaze meeting hers. For a long, silent beat, the Treaty of Versailles didn't exist. There were no reparations, no borders, no historical grievances. There was just the quiet hum of the radiator and the way his eyes searched hers, as if he was looking for the rest of that sentence.
"Exactly," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "Like that."
He gave her a small, lingering smile, not the "polite classmate" smile, but a "we're in this together" smile. "Thanks for asking, Sophie. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one actually reading this stuff."
"You're definitely not," she said, and for the first time, she didn't blush. She just smiled back.
The rest of the class felt like a victory lap. Sophie took notes with a new kind of energy, the "Cloud of Worry" in her backpack having been replaced by something light and effervescent.
At lunch, Lila didn't even have to ask. She just looked at Sophie's face and started nodding. "You did it. The 'Stoic Wall' has a crack in it."
"I talked to him," Sophie said, dumping her bag on the table with a flourish. "And it wasn't a project thing. Well, it was class-related, but I initiated it. And Lila... he didn't just answer. He... he looked happy that I asked."
"Of course he was happy!" Lila laughed, stealing a grape from Sophie's tray. "People like being noticed, Soph. Even the Ethans of the world. Especially when it's by someone they've been trying to figure out for three months."
"You think he's trying to figure me out?"
"I think he's currently writing a chapter in his own head called 'The Mystery of the Chaotic Genius'," Lila teased. "And today, you gave him a new clue."
As they walked back to class that afternoon, Sophie caught sight of Ethan in the crowded hallway. He was with his usual group, but as she passed, he caught her eye. He didn't wave, and he didn't shout. He just gave her that same, quiet nod from the library—a signal that said I see you.
Sophie realized then that Lila was right about the regret. If she had stayed silent, she would have gone home wondering "what if." Instead, she was going home knowing that the bridge was built.
She wasn't just a girl staring from a bench anymore. She was a girl who could lean across a desk and ask a question. She was a girl who could hold a gaze without flinching.
The butterflies were still there, but they weren't frantic anymore. They were organized. They were flying in formation, moving her toward a future that felt a little less like a dream and a lot more like a reality.
She opened her notebook that evening and didn't write an observation. She wrote a goal.
Tomorrow, I'm going to ask him what he's doing for the Spring Festival. No Treaty talk. No maps. Just us.
She closed the book and realized that for the first time in weeks, she didn't need a mantra to fall asleep. She just needed the memory of that "volatile" spark in his eyes.