Transferring mid-semester wasn't part of the plan.
Then again, most of my life hasn't exactly followed a plan. Brooklyn was chaotic, but I was used to chaos. I blended into it. Fit inside the noise.
Virginia felt… quieter. Too calm. Like I had walked into a place where the loudest thing was my own heartbeat.
Until I saw her.
She was sitting in the second row, her hair falling over one shoulder, her pen tapping lightly on the desk as she scribbled something.
I don't know what I expected when I walked into The Enlighteners for the first time. But it wasn't her.
Ava.
She didn't notice me at first. She was focused, like the world was hers and the rest of us were just background noise. Her features were soft — thoughtful eyes, like she saw things deeper than most. And when she turned slightly, just enough for me to catch the tiniest smile tugging at her lips...
I was gone.
Love at first sight?
Nah. That's not real, right?
...Then again, I couldn't look away.
---
I introduced myself to the class, acting as chill as possible. Always worked before. People either liked me or stayed out of my way.
But when I sat behind Ava, I wasn't trying to flirt.
Not really.
I mean, okay — I noticed her handwriting. Neat. Curved letters, little loops on the ends. It told me she cared about the details. That she was organized but probably dreamy too.
So yeah… maybe I leaned in and whispered, "Nice handwriting."
Was that flirting?
Kind of.
She looked back with those wide eyes and said thanks, like she didn't know the effect she was having on me.
And I… panicked.
So I said the next dumb thing that came to mind. Something about being new, figuring the school out. She smiled. I smiled. There it was.
Flirting.
Crap.
---
At lunch, I couldn't stop scanning the cafeteria. Looking for her.
What was I doing?
I didn't even know her.
But something about the way she looked at the world — like she was still trying to decide if she belonged in it — made me want to sit next to her. Get to know the soft edges behind her calm face.
So I asked her.
And then came the interruption.
Him.
Damien.
He stepped in like some shadow prince — all cool stares and deep warning tones. I knew his type: protective, popular, and probably the one she was already half in love with.
But I didn't back down. I never do.
Still… I wasn't expecting the way his words hit. "She's already sitting with me."
He wasn't just being possessive. He was claiming her.
That stung more than I thought it would.
But hey — maybe I flirted by accident.
Maybe I liked her way too fast.
But I'm not the type to run away.
And I'm definitely not giving up.
Not on her.