Today was my first day at The Enlighteners.
As I packed my things and stepped outside, a soft breeze brushed against my face. The air in Virginia felt different — lighter, fresher. I started walking toward school, clutching the strap of my backpack a little tighter. All around me, I saw so many children, all heading in the same direction. Some were laughing, others chatting, some walking in groups, and a few — like me — walked alone.
It was a little scary, but also… exciting. Like stepping into the first page of a brand new story.
My mom and I had moved from Arizona to Virginia just a couple of weeks ago. She's a news reporter, and after getting transferred to a different department, we packed everything up and came here. I'd spent all fifteen years of my life in Arizona. Every corner held a memory. But when we moved, I promised myself something: I wouldn't hold on too tightly to the past. I'd treat this as a fresh start.
And I meant it.
When I reached my new school, I was stunned. The building was surrounded by greenery — like a school carved into the heart of nature. Bushes bloomed with tiny flowers, vines crept along fences, and the trees swayed gently like they were welcoming me. I whispered, "Wow," without even thinking. It felt like I had stepped into a fairytale garden instead of a regular high school.
I got there a little early. It was my first day, and I wanted to look around, to soak it all in — the neighborhood, the school, the people.
As I entered the classroom, it was still empty. Sunlight streamed through the windows, painting the desks with a warm golden glow. I took a seat in the middle, hoping it wouldn't be too front or too back. I rested my hands on the desk and looked around, wondering who would sit with me this year. Would they be nice? Quiet? Funny?
Just as I was lost in my thoughts, the door opened.
A boy walked in.
And suddenly, the room didn't feel so quiet anymore.
Wow. Was he really that attractive… or was I just exaggerating?
No. I wasn't. He really was.
He had sharp, piercing eyes — almost pure blue, like glacial water that had never been touched. His silky brown hair fell perfectly across his forehead, not too neat, not too messy. He wore simple denim jeans and a white shirt, but somehow made them look like designer fashion. His eyebrows were thick and defined, framing a strong, sharp nose, and when he smiled… my heart skipped a beat. His jawline was so perfectly sculpted it looked unreal, and resting around his neck was a silver chain with a lion pendant — bold, fierce, beautiful.
And then there was his posture — calm, composed, confident. His presence had gravity. He didn't just walk in. He arrived.
For a 15-year-old, he had a surprisingly muscular build. Athletic. Defined. I couldn't help staring — and I did — for far too long. He looked like he had just walked out of a fantasy novel. Like a Greek god who had somehow decided to attend my high school.
I felt my breath hitch slightly as he sat beside me and started unpacking his things, quiet and unbothered.
I should say something.
"Hi! My name's Ava. Ava Canter," I said, my voice a little higher than usual.
He turned toward me, and when our eyes met, my stomach flipped.
"Hello. My name is Damien," he replied with a soft, almost effortless smile.
His voice was calm. Deep. Steady. A little mysterious. Too confident, maybe… or maybe just comfortable in his own skin.
He reached out and shook my hand. His touch was cool but firm. Then more students started pouring into the classroom. The buzz returned, and before I knew it, the teacher entered, and it was time to introduce myself.
---
Time passed faster than I expected. Suddenly, it was lunchtime.
I wandered into the cafeteria and ended up sitting with a girl named Chloe Sinclair. She had soft brown hair that curled gently at the ends, almond-shaped eyes, cleanly shaped brows, and a kind smile that instantly made me feel safe. She was easy to talk to — calm, friendly, someone who knew her way around the school.
I liked her instantly.
We chatted about classes, the school layout, and eventually, I asked her about Damien. I didn't even try to hide my curiosity.
Chloe raised an eyebrow playfully. "Ah, Damien. He's… different."
I leaned in. "Different how?"
"Well," she said thoughtfully, "he's always been the quiet type. Top of every subject. Excellent in sports. He can sing — like really sing — and he's a crazy good artist. But he's usually alone. Especially during lunch. He always draws during break."
My heart skipped.
He draws?
I looked around the cafeteria, but he wasn't there. I figured he was probably off somewhere, sketching quietly like she said.
---
As I walked back toward class, I passed one of the quieter hallways — and there he was.
Damien sat on the floor near the window, legs crossed, sketchbook open on his lap. His eyes were focused, his hand moving quickly across the page, like he was capturing something he didn't want to forget. There was a peace around him — like the rest of the world didn't exist.
He looked… beautiful. Not just because of how he looked, but because of how he was.
I found myself walking toward him without thinking. And before I could stop myself, I sat beside him.
He looked up, startled at first. His eyes flicked to mine, and then to his sketchbook — which he shut quickly, almost protectively.
He parted his lips to speak, but I beat him to it.
"Hi, remember? I'm Ava. I just transferred here," I said with a smile. "I don't know many people yet, but I hope I can be your friend."
His expression softened — almost surprised, but in a good way. "Oh, I still remember you," he said with a quiet smile. "I always draw beautiful things in my sketchbook so I can keep them with me forever."
Something about the way he said that made my chest flutter.
He looked at me again, his eyes impossibly blue, and asked, "Tell me more about yourself."
I let out a small laugh. "Well, I just transferred. My mom's a news reporter — she got moved here recently. My dad died when I was five… I used to live in Arizona. I like reading, and… I'm not really good at math."
He looked at me — really looked — and it made me feel like I was being seen for the first time.
His eyes lingered on mine, calm but curious, and I felt my face grow warm. I looked away quickly, cheeks burning. What was happening to me?
Then the bell rang, sharp and sudden.
I stood up quickly, brushing imaginary dust off my jeans. "Bye… I hope to meet you soon, Damien."
As I walked away toward the classroom, I tried not to look back.
But inside?
I was all over the place.
Was I really overthinking things? Or… was he actually making me fall for him?
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