Lucas's Pov
First days aren't supposed to feel this familiar. New school. New faces, same routine. I've transferred enough times to know the drill: walk in, act confident, learn the social codes, stay just invisible enough. But this time felt…different. Not harder. Not easier. Just heavier.
As I stepped out of the principal's office into the hallway chaos, I felt the eyes on me — whispers, quick glances, curiosity. I was used to it. A few smiles, some nods, even a couple of guys already trying to pull me into conversation. It was strange how fast people opened up when you looked like you belonged.
But I wasn't looking for friends. Not really.
I had one goal: make it through the year. No trouble. No drama. No connections.
Then I saw her.
It happened fast. She walked by with a friend — hoodie pulled up, brown hair spilling out, backpack slipping off one shoulder. Laughing about something. She didn't even look at me.
But she stopped me cold.
I didn't know her name. I didn't know anything about her.
But I felt something.
Weird, right?
I shook it off and headed to class. Sat down, made conversation with the guys next to me, easy stuff. I was good at that. Good at fitting in without ever really getting involved.
But then… she walked in.
Her eyes scanned the room and, of course, she chose the seat across from me. Out of all the empty desks.
When she sat down, it was like the air shifted.
She didn't look at me — not directly. But I saw the way her eyes flicked up, just once. And again. Like she was trying not to look. That quiet curiosity — I recognized it.
Because I was doing the same thing.
She whispered something to her friend, the one with sharp eyes who noticed me instantly. Protective type. I'd seen it before. I didn't mind.
I kept talking to the guys like I wasn't paying attention to her. But I was.
Every glance. Every movement.
I didn't know her, but it felt like I should.
The rest of the day moved in flashes, there were more introductions, more "where are you from" questions I didn't really answer. But she stayed lodged in the back of my mind.
Every time I spotted her in the hallway, I felt it again. That weird pull.
At lunch, I walked in with some guys I'd just met. That's when I saw her again.
She was sitting next to a guy — boyfriend, probably. He barely looked at her. She didn't smile like someone in love.
Then our eyes met. Just for a second. But it lit something up inside me.
She looked away, fast.
And in that moment, I knew two things:
I shouldn't want to know more about her. I already did.
After lunch, I went to history class— and there she was again. Now sitting beside the boyfriend. He leaned in, said something. She nodded, distracted, like she wasn't really listening.
I tried to focus on the lesson, but my thoughts kept circling back to her.
What is wrong with me?
I didn't even know her name.
I shook my head. This wasn't supposed to happen. I'd promised myself — no more getting close. Not after last time.
Flashback
It was raining that day — the kind of rain that slowed everything down.
I was sitting on the bleachers behind my old school, soaked, staring at my phone like it could take back what just happened.
Emma had told everyone.
My secrets, my family stuff, things I'd only ever told her.
All of it — out in the open like trash in a group chat.
Because she got mad.
One fight. One broken promise. And suddenly I was the school's favorite joke. Laughter in the halls, whispers I couldn't un-hear.
People I called friends wouldn't even look me in the eye. Teachers treated me like I was one wrong move away from self-destructing.
That was the day I made the rule:
Surface only.
No depth.
No one gets close enough to use me as a weapon.
Because the more you trust someone, the easier it is for them to destroy you.
Back to present
I blinked as the memory faded and the classroom came back into focus.
Her boyfriend whispered something again. She tucked her hair behind her ear and nodded like she heard him — but she wasn't really listening.
I shouldn't be watching her like this.
But I can't stop.
What I had with Emma? That was fake. All surface. All show.
This girl — this stranger — felt... real.
I didn't even know what her voice sounded like, but somehow, she already mattered more than she should..
I needed to stay away.
I promised myself I would.
But something told me…That promise was about to break.
I needed to stay away. Keep the walls up. I promised myself that when I left my old school. No more getting close. No more chances.
After class, I walked down the hall with a few of the guys. They kept firing off questions — where I was from, what music I liked, if I played sports.
I answered, but I wasn't listening.
All I could think about was her.
And then I saw her again — standing across the hallway with her friend. Laughing. Softly. The sound was faint, but it cut through the noise around me like a spotlight.
For one stupid second, I wanted to walk over. Ask her name. Say something.
Maybe even…
Kiss her?
What the hell was I thinking?
I shook my head, hard.
This wasn't me. Not anymore.
A few hours ago, I was dead serious about flying under the radar.
Now? I was standing here imagining kissing a girl I didn't even know?
No.
Not happening.
Walls up. Eyes forward. Head down.
But even as I told myself that…
I knew.
That part of me that still felt something — that stupid part — was already leaning in.