---
They say high school is like a loop—different day, same drama. Same faces in the hallway, same people pretending to be things they're not, same empty noise buzzing in the background of my quiet life.
But today didn't feel the same.
It started out like it always does. I sat in the back of second period, doodling shapes in the margins of my notebook while Mr. Garland went on about molecules and bonds and something else my brain refused to absorb. I was halfway through sketching a crooked star when the classroom door creaked open.
And just like that, the atmosphere shifted.
I didn't even look up at first. New students were rare, but not impossible. People move, families relocate—life happens. Still, I could feel it in the air before I saw him. A hush swept across the room, followed by the kind of silence that only happens when someone interesting walks in.
When I finally looked up, I instantly understood.
He wasn't just new. He was different.
Tall. Effortlessly cool. Like he stepped out of a dream and into the middle of our sleepy little high school. His uniform looked the same as ours, but he somehow made it look better. Like it was designed for him. His shirt sleeves were slightly rolled, his black backpack slung over one shoulder like a fashion statement rather than a necessity.
And then there was his face.
Smooth skin, sharp jawline, lips slightly parted like he was bored but still paying attention. His eyes… they were the kind you don't forget. Piercing and soft at the same time. Blue, I think. Or maybe grey. They caught the light in a way that made them feel unreal.
The teacher cleared his throat. "Class, we have a new student joining us. This is Rowan Hale. He just transferred from Eastbridge Academy."
Rowan.
Even his name sounded like it belonged in a novel.
He gave a small, polite nod. No wave, no cheesy grin, no unnecessary effort to impress. Just… calm confidence.
Girls were already whispering. I could hear them behind me—voices bouncing off each other like excited birds.
"Oh my God, he's so cute."
"Did you see his eyes?"
"I bet he's like... secretly rich."
Mr. Garland pointed to the seat directly in front of me. "You can take that seat, Rowan."
Of course. Because life loves irony.
He walked down the aisle, each step smooth and measured. When he passed my desk, his eyes flickered toward me for a second—just a second—but it was enough to make my heart skip. Not because he looked at me, but because for that brief, painful moment… I didn't feel invisible.
He didn't say anything. He just sat down, pulled out a notebook, and started writing like none of this affected him. Like he wasn't already turning the entire school upside down by simply existing.
I kept my head down for the rest of class, pretending to take notes. But I couldn't stop thinking about him. And not just because he was attractive. It was something else. Something quiet in the way he carried himself. Like maybe he didn't belong here either.
At lunch, I went to my usual spot—behind the sports field, near the old bleachers where no one ever goes. I like the quiet there. It's the only place where the noise of school doesn't find me. I had just taken a bite of my sandwich when I heard them.
Voices.
High-pitched, giggly, sugar-coated voices.
I peeked through a gap in the bleachers and there they were—Chloe, Taylor, Vivienne, and their perfect little crowd—surrounding him like he was a prize on a game show.
He stood near the picnic tables, hands in his pockets, looking both amused and uninterested at the same time.
"Do you play football?" Taylor asked, flipping her hair.
"You should totally join the team," Vivienne said, batting her lashes.
"You should sit with us tomorrow," Chloe added, smiling like she had already claimed him as hers.
Rowan didn't answer all of them. He just smiled politely, shrugged now and then, said a few words too quiet for me to hear. But I could tell he wasn't fully in it. He wasn't soaking up the attention like most guys would. He looked… distant. Like his mind was somewhere else.
And then it happened again.
His eyes drifted.
And found me.
I froze in place, half-hidden behind rusted metal and shadow. But he saw me. I know he saw me. His eyes locked with mine, and for a heartbeat, neither of us looked away.
Something passed between us—quiet, unspoken.
Then one of the girls tugged at his sleeve, and he turned back to them, just like that. The moment was gone.
But not for me.
For the rest of the day, my thoughts were tangled in that brief glance. I tried to talk myself out of it. Maybe he was just looking around. Maybe he didn't actually see me. People don't just look at me—not like that.
And yet… he did.
I kept replaying it in my head, like a scene from a movie I didn't know I'd been cast in.
By the time I got home, my chest felt strange. Not heavy, not light. Just full. Full of thoughts, questions, possibilities.
I didn't like it.
I don't do crushes. I don't do fairytales or stupid school romances.
But tonight, as I sat by my window, watching the sunset paint the sky, I whispered his name just once.
"Rowan."
And it felt like the beginning of something.
Something I'm not ready for.
Something I can't stop.
---