Chapter Eight — Amelia's POV
The next week came with a quiet kind of determination I hadn't felt in a long time. Maybe it was because I was tired of letting silence hang between Kamen and me—or maybe because I wanted to prove, at least to myself, that I was more than the quiet "church girl" everyone saw.
At Triple H College, Mondays always came with their own brand of chaos—rushing feet, laughter echoing in the halls, and teachers shouting reminders. But today, something in the air was different. It was the announcement everyone had been whispering about: the Quiz Team Trials.
The moment our Physics teacher mentioned it, the class buzzed like a beehive. "The top ten students from the preliminary test will be shortlisted," he said. "Then, only four will make the official Quiz Team to represent Triple H at the Inter-School Championship."
Whispers flew around the room. Everyone already knew the names on everyone's mind: Kamen, Hilda, and Amelia Reynolds.
I tried not to blush when a few students turned to look my way. I wasn't used to attention. My world had always been small—books, prayers, and quiet corners. In fact, my roommates teased that I was "married to my textbooks." They weren't wrong. My dorm desk was always piled high with notes, highlighters, and the occasional half-eaten snack from late-night study sessions. Even our dorm matron once joked, "Reynolds, if those books could talk, they'd call you their wife."
But I didn't mind. Being focused made me feel safe—like life had order.
Kamen, as usual, sat two seats away, head bent over his notebook, his pen tapping a slow rhythm. He didn't seem thrilled or nervous, just calm, distant, collected. During the review of Kinematics, he answered nearly every question, his deep voice slicing through the hum of chatter.
When I got one wrong, I caught the faintest twitch of his lips—amusement, maybe? Or sympathy. I wasn't sure which, but it made my cheeks warm.
After class, I stayed behind to copy some notes from the board, trying to fix the formula I'd missed. Hilda approached, smiling.
"You're joining the quiz trials, right?" she asked brightly.
I hesitated. "Maybe. I'll think about it."
She chuckled. "Amelia, please. You're one of the best. Don't act like you're not."
I laughed softly, but her words stayed with me. Maybe I was capable. Maybe it was time to stop hiding behind modesty.
That evening, the dorm was alive with chatter and music—Doja's playlist, of course. I was buried in my notes, trying to understand a Physics problem that had twisted itself into a puzzle in my brain.
Doja burst into the room like she owned the world. "Tell me you're signing up for that quiz thing!"
"I'm still thinking about it," I muttered, eyes on my notes.
"You have to! Triple H's next brain queen? That's you."
I smiled. "It's not about showing off. I just want to do something meaningful."
"Meaningful?" she laughed, flopping onto my bed. "Girl, you sound like my pastor. Fun is where it's at!"
Despite her teasing, she was the first to drag me to the sign-up table the next morning. The list was already full of names, and there—at the top—was Kamen.
He looked up just as I reached for the pen. For the first time in weeks, our eyes met—and didn't dart away.
"Hey," I said softly.
"You're joining?" he asked.
"Trying to," I replied.
He nodded once. "Good."
And then he was gone, his usual quiet self, leaving behind a strange warmth that lingered longer than it should have.
⸻
That afternoon, I took my books to my favorite spot—the big oak tree near the back of the science block. It was quiet there, the kind of place where thoughts didn't echo so loud. I opened my Physics notebook and stared at the same problem for the fifth time. It was like the numbers were mocking me.
"Still stuck?"
I jumped a little, turning to see Kamen standing there, hands in his pockets. I hadn't even heard him approach.
"Oh—yeah," I said, embarrassed. "It's this whole relative motion thing. I get the idea, but when the numbers change, I…"
He sat beside me before I could finish. The air felt heavier, but not in a bad way—just different.
"You're overthinking," he said, leaning toward my notebook. "Look."
His handwriting was neat and fast as he scribbled an example. "You have to visualize it. Think of the motion as two people walking on opposite ends of a road. Their speeds add or subtract, depending on direction."
I frowned, trying to follow. "So, like… if two cars move toward each other—"
"—then their relative velocity is the sum of both speeds," he finished for me, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Exactly."
Something about the way he explained things made everything clearer. It wasn't just his words—it was his patience.
After a few minutes, I managed to solve a similar question on my own. "Got it!" I said, a little too excited.
He chuckled under his breath. "Told you."
We sat there for a while, the wind rustling through the leaves, sunlight slipping between the branches. For once, silence between us didn't feel awkward. It felt like peace.
As he stood to leave, I said, "Hey, Kamen?"
He turned slightly.
"Thanks… for helping."
He shrugged, that tiny smile appearing again. "You're welcome. You're smart—you just think too much."
I watched him walk away, my heart doing that ridiculous flutter thing again. Maybe Doja was right—maybe I did need to "live a little."
But as I closed my notebook, I realized something important.
Living a little didn't have to mean losing myself.
Sometimes, it just meant letting someone in.