Tomorrow.
When we stepped out of the library, I didn't think Zayden would actually go through with it.
"I know a place," he said, holding his bike. "Wanna go?"
I looked up at the sky. It was a little cloudy. Just the right kind of gray.
"It might rain," I said.
"It might not," he replied, then winked.
And there it was. He was relentless. But I still went with him.
---
The "place" was a small garden park near campus—almost empty, full of plants, and with a swing at the far end. A literal swing. The kind made from a motorcycle tire hanging from a tree.
I laughed. "Seriously? A swing?"
"Childhood flashback. Want to go first?" he offered.
"No thanks. It might break if I sit on it."
"Wow, confident much." He grabbed the rope. "Okay, I'll go first then, so you know it's safe."
And he did. This huge guy, swinging back and forth like a carefree kid.
I laughed. "Wow. You'd think you didn't have finals."
"I don't. Not right now. I'm having a moment."
I sat on a nearby bench. We went quiet for a bit. Then—
"Thank you," he suddenly said.
I looked at him. "Huh? For what?"
"Nothing. Just… thanks for coming."
"Zayden…" I smiled. "Why does this feel like a date?" I joked.
"It's not a date," he said, but there was a small smile on his lips.
"Really?" I asked again, half-joking, but a little curious.
"Unless you want to think of it that way."
Silence.
It was a small question. But it landed heavy. Because… me?
Why did I kind of want to think of it that way?
---
We walked around the garden. He looked at the plants, then started telling random stories—about his cousin who fell from a tree, his grandma who taught him how to cook, his old broken bike that's still broken.
I kept laughing. But the longer it went on, the slower everything felt.
Not time—me.
My thoughts. My heartbeat.
Because as I listened to him… as I watched his expressions while he talked…
It felt like something was clicking inside me.
Like we'd been friends for a while, but I was only now really seeing him.
And like—here I go again—it felt like I was me. The real me. No pretending. Nothing to prove.
---
When we got back to the boarding house, we stood outside the gate quietly. Just standing there, like there was something waiting to be said but no one saying it.
"Thanks, Kiera," he said.
"For what?"
"For today. For being… chill. For being you."
I swallowed. "Was I chill?"
"You were. On the outside. Inside? I'm not so sure."
I looked at him. There was something in his eyes—like a challenge.
But me? I didn't have a witty comeback anymore. Because the truth is…
I wasn't chill.
I wasn't okay.
Because I was scared.
I was happy.
I was nervous.
I was giddy.
And yes—maybe I was falling.
Not sure yet.
But…
Accidentally, maybe.