The morning sunlight spilled through the classroom windows, catching in the strands of dust floating lazily in the air. I had gotten used to the way the whispers followed me now—though "used to" didn't mean I liked it.
As I stepped inside, several heads turned in my direction.
"There she is."
"She's sitting with him again today, huh?"
"I don't get why he even talks to her."
I kept my expression neutral, sliding into my seat beside Lawrence. He was already there, as always, chin resting on his hand while staring out the window.
"Morning," I said quietly.
He didn't look at me. "Morning."
That was it. Typical Lawrence—short, polite enough, and utterly uninterested.
I tried to focus on unpacking my notebook, ignoring the weight of the stares behind me.
The first two periods passed without anything unusual, just the usual routine of lessons, notes, and Lawrence occasionally scribbling lazily in his book. But as the third period started, the teacher's voice broke the quiet rhythm of the day.
"Class, as part of the upcoming school festival, each section will be preparing a booth. You'll be working in groups to plan and manage your booth, and I'll be assigning the groups."
A ripple of chatter spread across the room.
A school festival. Of course.
I liked the idea of festivals, but the thought of being stuck with classmates whispering behind my back for days didn't sound exciting at all.
The teacher began reading out names. I barely paid attention—until I heard mine.
"Aya Ramos, Lawrence Cruz, Reina Sato, and Kevin Lim."
My head snapped up.
Of course. Of course I'd end up in the same group as him again.
The murmurs started immediately.
"She's always paired with Lawrence."
"Why are they always grouped together? Is the teacher doing this on purpose?"
I glanced sideways at Lawrence. He didn't react at all, still staring lazily at the board.
After class, our assigned group gathered near the back of the room to discuss the festival booth. Reina—tall, pretty, and one of the girls who had smiled at me too sweetly last week—sat across from me, her expression unreadable. Kevin, the other group member, looked cheerful enough, flipping through his notebook with a grin.
"So!" Kevin began, "What kind of booth should we do? Food stalls are popular, but games are fun too."
"A food stall would make more money," Reina said smoothly, glancing briefly at Lawrence.
Lawrence shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me."
Reina smiled faintly, as if pleased with his non-answer, then turned to me. "What do you think, Aya?"
I hesitated. "A food stall sounds fine."
"Then it's decided," Reina said quickly, as if my opinion had been unnecessary.
I bit back a sigh.
We started dividing the work. Kevin volunteered to handle supplies, Reina insisted on managing the decorations, and somehow, Lawrence and I ended up assigned to "menu preparation and pricing."
Reina's lips curved in a knowing smile. "You two should work well together, since you're… close already."
I froze, heat rushing to my cheeks.
"We're not—" I started, but Lawrence cut in.
"Fine," he said flatly.
Reina's smile widened just a little before she turned away.
After school, Lawrence and I stayed behind to discuss the menu. The classroom had emptied out, leaving only the soft hum of distant chatter from the hallway.
I spread a blank sheet of paper on the desk. "So… what should we sell? Something easy to make but popular."
Lawrence leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "You decide."
I frowned. "You can't just leave it to me. This is supposed to be teamwork."
He glanced at me lazily. "You're better at this kind of thing."
"You don't even know if I'm good at it!"
He smirked faintly, which only annoyed me more.
"Fine," I muttered, scribbling down a few ideas. "What about something simple, like takoyaki or crepes?"
"Crepes," he said immediately.
I looked up. "That was fast."
"People like sweets. Easier to sell."
I blinked, surprised. I hadn't expected him to give such a practical answer so quickly.
"Okay," I said finally, writing it down. "Crepes it is."
As we worked, I couldn't help sneaking glances at him. He was surprisingly focused, jotting down cost estimates and portion sizes with neat, careful handwriting.
I had to admit—he was good at this.
At one point, I couldn't help saying, "You're actually pretty organized."
Lawrence didn't look up. "You sound surprised."
"I am."
He glanced at me then, one eyebrow raised. "You think I'm useless?"
"I didn't say that!"
He smirked faintly, going back to his notes. "Sure."
I sighed, deciding not to argue.
We worked for almost an hour, the soft scratching of pens filling the quiet classroom. The sun dipped lower, casting warm golden light across his desk.
For a brief moment, I watched him as he worked, the sunlight catching in his hair.
He looked… different like this. Not the cold, distant Lawrence everyone whispered about. Just… focused.
I quickly looked away when he glanced up, pretending to check my notes.
When we finally finished, I stretched my arms, yawning. "I think we've got most of it planned."
Lawrence nodded, closing his notebook.
As I stood, I accidentally knocked my pen off the desk again.
Before I could bend down, Lawrence had already picked it up, handing it to me without looking.
"You really need to stop dropping things," he said.
I took it, muttering, "Thanks."
"Don't mention it," he said casually, slipping his notebook into his bag.
As we left the classroom, Reina was waiting by the door, leaning casually against the wall.
"Oh, you're still here," she said, her voice sugary sweet. "Working hard, I see."
I forced a polite smile. "We were just finishing up."
Reina's gaze flicked to Lawrence, her smile softening. "You must be tired, Lawrence. Want me to help with the booth prep tomorrow? Aya might need extra hands."
I blinked, taken aback.
Lawrence's expression didn't change. "No. It's fine."
Reina's smile faltered for a split second before returning. "If you say so."
As we walked past her, I glanced at Lawrence. "You didn't have to say no. She probably just wanted to help."
"She doesn't actually want to help," he said simply.
I stared at him, unsure how to respond. "…You're blunt."
"Better than lying," he replied, hands in his pockets as we stepped into the fading sunlight.
To be Continued....