The hallway was buzzing with students rushing to their next class. Lockers slammed, shoes squeaked on the floor, and chatter bounced off the walls. Anaya hugged her sketchbook to her chest, trying to navigate the crowd without drawing attention. She wasn't exactly invisible, but she liked to pretend she was.
And then it happened.
A sudden collision. Her sketchbook slipped from her hands.
"Oh! Sorry!" she exclaimed, bending down to pick it up.
"It's okay," said a familiar voice.
Anaya froze. Kian. Again. This time, no sketchbook involved, but the same heart-stopping effect. He crouched beside her, picking up her book with a small, almost shy smile.
"Clumsy today, huh?" he said lightly, handing it back.
"Y-yeah… I guess," she murmured, cheeks heating.
He looked at her for a moment longer than necessary, and Anaya felt her chest tighten. She hated that her heart had a mind of its own.
As they stood, their arms brushed lightly, just once, but it was enough to make Anaya want to hide behind a locker. She stepped back. "Thanks… I… I'll see you later," she stammered, trying to sound casual.
"See you," Kian said with a small grin, watching her walk away.
Across the hall, Rhea had been waiting for Anaya. She waved enthusiastically. "So? Did you talk to him again?"
Anaya groaned. "It wasn't… I mean, he just… we bumped into each other."
Rhea rolled her eyes. "Bumped into each other? That's all? You two are so obvious when you're flustered. Come on, spill it. Did he look at your sketchbook?"
Anaya's mind raced. Should she tell her friend? Could she even admit she had a crush? "I… don't know. Maybe. Can we just… not talk about it?"
Rhea grinned mischievously. "Of course we can. Totally… not talk about it." She gave a knowing wink, clearly not buying it.
Later that day, Anaya walked to her locker again, this time more cautiously. She wanted to avoid further accidents, but fate wasn't done with her. As she turned the corner, Kian appeared from the other hallway, carrying his guitar case.
"Oh… hi," she said softly, hoping she sounded normal.
"Hey," he replied. "Are you heading to art club later?"
Anaya's stomach fluttered. Was he… actually talking to her, or was he just being polite? "Y-yeah… I'll be there," she said quickly, clutching her sketchbook tighter.
They parted without further words, but the small exchange left her dizzy. Every casual conversation, every glance, every accidental brush of hands felt monumental.