Ava couldn't stop replaying the moment—forehead to forehead, his breath mixing with hers, the tremble in his voice when he said:
"I want to be your choice."
She hadn't meant to fall for him. Not for the boy who always had a guarded smile, who listened more than he spoke, who never said the right thing but always meant it.
And yet, here she was. Standing in her bedroom, staring at her phone, rereading their last texts as if they held the answers to everything that came next.
> Ivan: I meant what I said.
Ava: Me too.
Simple. Honest. Terrifying.
---
At school on Monday, everything felt too loud—too real. The whispers in the hallway, the lockers slamming shut, the clatter of trays in the cafeteria. But all of it blurred when she spotted Ivan at his usual bench under the bleachers, sketchpad in his lap like always.
She hesitated. A week ago, she would've walked up, sat beside him, teased him about drawing brooding anime guys with sad eyes. But now?
Now it felt like she was stepping onto thin ice, one crack away from sinking.
He looked up before she could speak. His eyes softened. "Hey."
She sat beside him without a word.
For a few beats, they just existed—in the silence, in the space between what they were and what they were becoming.
"I didn't know you could draw like that," she said finally, eyeing the pencil strokes on the page. A boy, alone, back turned, standing in the rain.
"I usually don't let anyone see," he said. "But you're different."
She blinked. "Why me?"
He didn't look at her. "Because you see things no one else does… even if you don't always realize it."
Ava swallowed the lump rising in her throat. "I think I've missed a lot of things."
He turned the page in his sketchbook and revealed a rough sketch of her—laughing, head tilted, wind in her hair.
Ava stared. "When did you—?"
"Last fall," he said. "You were laughing at something stupid Nathan said. You didn't even notice me watching."
Her chest ached.
"I thought maybe if I kept you in my sketchbook, I wouldn't have to ask for more," he continued. "I could just… have that piece of you."
She looked at him, really looked.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"For what?"
"For not seeing you sooner."
He smiled, small and shy. "You see me now."
And she did.
Every wall he'd built. Every look he'd given her. Every unsent message, every quiet goodbye. She saw it all.
Ava reached out, her fingers brushing his hand. He didn't pull away.
"I want to figure this out," she said. "Us."
Ivan turned his hand, lacing their fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Then let's start," he said.
Not over.
Not again.
Just—start.
Together.