Monday mornings always felt heavier than they should have.
Micheal sat near the back of the classroom, pen tapping lightly against his notebook as the teacher droned on about formulas he already understood. He wasn't really listening. His attention drifted to the door every time it opened, half-expecting Teema to walk in late like she sometimes did.
She didn't.
When she finally arrived before second period, Daniel was with her. They stopped just outside the classroom, talking in low voices. Teema laughed softly, then pushed the door open, scanning the room until her eyes found Micheal. She smiled and mouthed hi.
He nodded back.
It was small. Normal. And somehow, that made it worse.
Between classes, Micheal leaned against the lockers with Samson, who was busy complaining about an upcoming test.
"You're not even pretending to listen," Samson said.
"Multitasking," Micheal replied.
Samson followed his gaze. Teema stood a few lockers down, helping Daniel with something on his phone. Samson sighed. "You know people don't steal people, right? People just… choose."
Micheal didn't answer.
At lunch, Micheal decided not to sit at their usual table.
It wasn't a statement. He just took his tray and sat with a few teammates near the window. They talked about the game, replaying moments, arguing over calls. Micheal laughed when it was expected of him, nodded at the right times.
Across the cafeteria, Teema noticed the empty seat beside her.
She hesitated, then sat anyway.
After school, Micheal headed to the field for practice. The sun hung low, casting long shadows across the grass. Practice was harder than usual—more drills, more shouting, more mistakes. Micheal welcomed the exhaustion. It gave his thoughts something else to do.
When practice ended, he checked his phone.
> You disappeared today, Teema had texted an hour earlier.
He wiped sweat from his face and typed back.
> Just busy.
> Want to walk home together?
He stared at the screen longer than necessary.
> I'm heading the other way today.
A few minutes passed.
> Oh. Okay. Maybe tomorrow.
Micheal slipped his phone into his pocket.
On his way out, Liana caught up with him again, jogging lightly to match his pace.
"You're always walking like you're late for something," she said.
"Feels like I am."
She smiled, then grew a little more serious. "You don't have to be, you know."
He glanced at her. "Be what?"
"Elsewhere."
They walked in silence for a bit before she waved and turned off toward her street.
That evening, Micheal sat on his bed, homework spread out in front of him but untouched. His phone buzzed again.
> Daniel says you played really well on Friday. He showed me a clip someone recorded.
Micheal exhaled slowly.
> Yeah. It was okay.
> I wish I'd been there.
He typed a reply, deleted it, then typed again.
> I know.
Across town, Teema set her phone down, frowning slightly. She didn't like how distant he sounded—but she also didn't know how to pull him back without choosing something she wasn't ready to choose.
The next day, Micheal showed up early to school.
He sat on the steps outside the building, watching students arrive in pairs and groups. When Teema approached, he stood.
"Hey," she said. "You're early."
"Couldn't sleep."
They walked inside together, shoulder to shoulder like they always had. For a moment, it felt easy again.
Daniel joined them halfway down the hall.
"Morning," he said.
"Morning," Micheal replied.
They walked the rest of the way together, the three of them moving in sync without trying.
It wasn't uncomfortable.
It also wasn't simple.
As the bell rang and they split toward different classrooms, Micheal realized something that unsettled him more than jealousy ever had.
He wasn't being pushed out.
He was being outpaced.
And for the first time, he wasn't sure whether showing up harder would change anything—or just make the space clearer.
The thought followed him into class, quiet and persistent, as the door closed behind him.
----
The question came later than Micheal expected.
They were sitting on the low concrete wall behind the science block during lunch, the noise of the cafeteria distant enough to feel optional. Teema swung her legs slightly, peeling the wrapper off a snack she hadn't started eating yet.
"You and Liana seem… friendly," she said, casually enough that it almost slipped past him.
Micheal looked at her. "Friendly?"
"She sits with you a lot," Teema added, eyes still on the wrapper. "And she was cheering pretty hard at the game."
He exhaled softly, not annoyed—just tired.
"She's just nice," he said. "That's it."
Teema glanced at him then, searching his face. "That's all?"
"That's all," Micheal replied without hesitation.
She studied him for a moment longer, then smiled faintly. "You know, there are a lot of girls who like you."
He huffed a quiet laugh. "I'm aware."
"I mean it," she continued. "Liana's just one of them. There's Kiana from the art club, that girl from your math class, even that junior who keeps pretending she needs help with homework."
He shook his head. "I don't see them like that."
Teema tilted her head. "Why not?"
Micheal stared out at the courtyard, students crossing in loose groups. "Because liking someone isn't about availability."
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"It's about… alignment," he said slowly, choosing his words. "You don't just swap people in and out because they're interested."
Teema smiled, but there was something thoughtful behind it. "So you're saying you're loyal."
"I'm saying," Micheal replied quietly, "that I don't really move on easily."
She was silent for a beat.
"Maybe you should," she said then, half joking, half serious. "You've got options."
He finally looked at her. "Do I?"
She met his gaze. "Yeah. You do."
Micheal smiled, small and tired. "Funny thing is, none of them feel like choices."
Teema's smile faltered just slightly.
"You make it sound like you're stuck," she said.
"No," he replied. "Just… focused."
The bell rang before either of them could say more. Teema stood, brushing crumbs from her skirt.
"Come on," she said lightly. "We'll be late."
As they walked back inside, Micheal noticed Daniel waiting near the hallway, phone in hand. He straightened when he saw Teema, slipping easily into step beside her.
Micheal followed a pace behind.
For the first time, he caught himself comparing.
Daniel was present—consistent, available, always there when she needed something.
Liana was interest—clear, uncomplicated, offering him something easier.
And then there was him.
Still choosing Teema.
Still not saying it out loud.
Still hoping she could somehow hear it anyway.
Teema laughed at something Daniel said, then glanced back at Micheal.
"You coming?" she asked.
"Yeah," he replied.
And he meant it.
Even if he wasn't sure how long coming along would still count as showing up.
---
After school, the sky was already beginning to dim, clouds rolling in low and heavy. Micheal walked the long way toward the bus stop, hands in his pockets, replaying the lunch conversation without meaning to.
None of them feel like choices.
The words lingered longer than he expected.
"Yo," Samson called, jogging up beside him. "You walking like someone stole your lunch money."
Micheal snorted. "Relax."
Samson eyed him. "You and Teema talk today?"
"Yeah."
"And?"
Micheal shrugged. "She asked about Liana."
Samson stopped walking. "Oh?"
"I told her there's nothing there."
Samson studied him. "And?"
"And that was it."
Samson shook his head slowly. "You know what's funny? Most guys would've used that moment to make her jealous."
"I'm not most guys."
"No," Samson agreed. "You're worse. You're honest."
They reached the bus stop and sat on the low railing. A bus rumbled past without slowing.
"You ever think," Samson said after a moment, "that she doesn't realize you're choosing her because you never actually say it?"
Micheal stared at the road. "I shouldn't have to say it."
Samson sighed. "Maybe. But people aren't mind readers."
The bus finally pulled up. Samson stood.
"Just don't wait so long that choosing stops being an option," he said, before climbing aboard.
Micheal rode home alone.
That night, he lay on his bed with his phone resting on his chest. A message from Teema blinked onto the screen.
> Are you mad at me?
He typed back immediately.
> No.
> You sure?
> Yeah. I just don't want things to be weird.
There was a pause.
> They aren't weird. Are they?
Micheal closed his eyes.
> Not yet.
Across town, Teema read the message twice.
She didn't reply right away.
When she finally did, it was simple.
> Goodnight, Mich.
> Night.
He set the phone aside, the room quiet except for the distant sound of traffic.
Micheal stared at the ceiling, thinking about choices again—not the loud ones, not the dramatic ones. The quiet kind. The kind you made every day without announcing them.
He had been choosing Teema for a long time.
The unsettling thought wasn't that she might choose Daniel.
It was that she might never realize a choice had been made at all.
---