Casey
Emily notices it before I do.
"You two didn't talk once," she whispers, leaning closer during lunch. "That's illegal, you know." I blink. "What?"
Emily is blonde, her hair a natural shade that fell almost straight, but with just enough texture to feel soft and real. Her skin was pale, with a gentle pink blush on her cheeks. Her almond-shaped eyes were a warm hazel-brown, and her lips were slightly pouty, naturally pink. There was something quietly bright about her, the kind of presence that drew attention without trying.
"You and Jack," Preeti adds, popping open her juice. "He's literally sitting right next to you and acting like you're a stranger."
Before I can answer, I remind myself: Emily and Preeti—my best friends—have always been the ones who notice when I'm uneasy, the ones I can trust to understand without needing explanations. They are my anchors, the people I can confide in, laugh with, and just… be myself around.
"That's not true," I say quickly, though my voice lacks conviction.
Emily raises an eyebrow. "Casey. He didn't even steal your pen today."
Preeti gasps. "Okay, now that is serious."
I press my lips together, staring at my food. Jack is only a few steps away, laughing with someone else. The sound feels distant, like it's coming from another room. Even though he's just a desk away, I can feel this strange separation. Like the space between us is wider than the physical distance, and somehow heavier.
"He's probably just tired," I say, repeating the excuse I've been feeding myself all day. Emily doesn't look convinced. "Tired people don't stop being themselves overnight."
Preeti tilts her head, watching Jack. "Did something happen between you two?" "No," I say immediately. Too immediately.
Preeti is Indian, her skin a rich, warm brown, smooth and consistent, with a natural shine that caught the light. Her eyes were wide and grey, striking against her complexion, and her hair fell in soft 3A curls, framing her face perfectly. Her lips were full, and her smile revealed bright, even teeth, giving her a quietly striking presence. She was the kind of beauty that felt effortless, noticeable without needing attention.
I steal another glance at him. He's scribbling in his notebook, pen moving quickly, face set in a way that shows he's focused but alert. I can't help noticing the small gestures—the way he shifts slightly in his seat, the slight crease in his brow, the way his eyes flick up occasionally, catching the light. Those little things make it feel like he's aware of me, even if he isn't speaking.
Emily nudges my foot under the desk. See? her eyes say.
After school, the three of us walk together. The conversation shifts to lighter things—homework, teachers, weekend plans—but my mind keeps wandering back to him. I wonder what he's thinking, if he notices the weight of this quiet, the tension that stretches between us.
"Just ask him," Preeti suggests lightly. "You're overthinking." Emily shakes her head. "No, she shouldn't. If something's wrong, he should say it."
"I don't want to make it awkward," I murmur.
Preeti sighs. "You're already uncomfortable. Awkward would at least be honest."
I glance back once. Jack is still there, talking to someone, smile easy again—just not for me.
And that's what hurts the most. Not that he's distant. But that he can be normal… just not with me.