"You're starting again."
Talia's voice snapped me out of it. I blinked down at my untouched sandwich, then up at the library window, where the sun had shifted half an hour ago.
"No, I wasn't."
"You were. Just like yesterday. And the day before that."
I rolled my eyes. "I was thinking."
"About him?" she asked, already grinning.
I didn't answer. I didn't have to.
August.
Just saying his name in my head made something flutter where it shouldn't.
It had been three days since our awkward almost-conversation. Three days since he said someone used to draw flowers. Three days since he noticed my handwriting.
And I couldn't stop replaying every detail.
"I just think it's… interesting," I said finally, picking at the crust of my sandwich.
Talia raised an eyebrow. "Ginny. He didn't even say a full sentence to you until this week. That's not interesting. That's mysterious and probably a red flag."
I laughed. "You're so dramatic."
But I got it. She didn't know what it felt like to sit next to someone and feel like you were in the middle of a storm you couldn't see.
Like silence wasn't empty- but heavy. Like it meant something.
I told her what he said. About the flowers. About the handwriting.
Talia didn't say much after that. She just gave me this look- part amused, part concerned.
"Just be careful," she said finally. "Sometimes quiet boys are quiet for a reason."
Later, in the class, he was already at the window seat. Same hoodie. Same notebook.
I walked past without expecting anything.
But just before I reached my seat, I saw it.
A tiny flower- drawn in the corner of his notebook. Not as messy as mine. Not perfect either. Just… there.
A maybe. A mirror
I sat down with my heart doing too much.
And for the rest of the lecture, I didn't take notes. I just watched the way his pen moved across the page like it had something to say.