I should've seen it coming, or maybe I couldn't have. The moment our teacher paired me with Ethan for the literature project, fate had already signed me up for embarrassment. Maybe that's dramatic, but it's the truth. And then, just to make sure the universe got its daily laugh, we were put into a trio. The third wheel—though I hated calling him that—was Ryan, a boy who could charm the wings off a fly if he tried. He had this easygoing, goofy energy, which normally would've been a relief. Except, of course, Ethan was there too, and suddenly nothing felt easy at all.
We decided to meet in the library after school. It was one of those afternoons where the air felt thick, the kind that made your brain feel slower. Students lounged at tables with heavy backpacks, whispering over textbooks. The librarian's sharp shush floated across the room now and then, but it barely held the chaos together.
Ryan plopped down at the table first, sliding his notebook out like he was preparing for battle. Ethan came second, quiet as always, moving with this steady calm that made me even more aware of my own jittery existence. He didn't say anything at first—just sat, pulled out a pen, and leaned back in his chair like he had all the time in the world.
And then there was me, scrambling to get my papers out before I knocked something over or made a fool of myself. Which, naturally, I did anyway. My pen rolled across the table and landed right by Ethan's elbow.
"Sorry," I mumbled, reaching for it. My fingers almost brushed his, but he pushed the pen toward me before I could grab it, his eyes flicking up to meet mine. Just a second, no words, but my stomach twisted like I'd swallowed sparks.
"Alright, troops," Ryan said, breaking the silence. "We've got until Friday to analyze this novel. I'll take the first three chapters, no problem. You two can split the rest."
"Fine," I said quickly, too quickly. My voice cracked in that way it does when I'm trying too hard to sound casual. "I can take the middle chapters. Doesn't matter."
Ryan raised an eyebrow, but Ethan leaned back further, pen tapping against the edge of his notebook. "Do you always talk this fast when you're nervous?" he asked.
The words hit like a dart. My head snapped toward him. "I'm not nervous," I said, way too defensive to sound believable.
Ryan snorted. "Oh, you definitely are."
I wanted to melt through the floor. My face burned hot, and in my panic, I dropped my eyes to my notebook. Only then did I realize the entire page was filled with little swirls and doodles instead of notes. Oh no.
Ethan's voice was calm, but I could hear the faint edge of amusement. "You've already filled a whole page with drawings. That doesn't look like project notes."
My mouth opened, closed, then opened again. "It's—It's organization. Visual… organization."
Ryan nearly choked on his laughter. Ethan just raised one eyebrow, not buying it for a second. His expression wasn't cruel, though. If anything, it was worse. He looked quietly entertained, like watching me flail was the most interesting thing that had happened to him all day.
I pressed my lips together and forced myself to scribble actual words across the page. Focus, Tasha. Focus.
Ryan leaned forward, oblivious to the silent chaos inside me. "Anyway, I'll do the summary for my chapters. Ethan, you good with the conclusion part?"
Ethan nodded, like this whole arrangement was perfectly normal, while I sat there trying to remember how to breathe.
"Cool," Ryan said. "That means Tasha's got the themes in the middle. Which, by the way, is the hardest part."
"I can handle it," I muttered, though my voice lacked any real conviction.
Ethan glanced at me again, and for a second, I swore there was something different in his eyes. Not teasing this time. Just steady. "I don't doubt it," he said quietly.
I froze. My pen stopped moving mid-scribble.
Ryan, of course, laughed again. "Wow, confidence boost from Ethan? That's rare."
But I barely heard him. Ethan's words lingered in the air, wrapping themselves around me in a way I couldn't shake off. I tried to act normal, tried to roll my eyes like it didn't matter, but my heart was too busy hammering in my chest.
For the next half hour, we worked in fits and starts. Ryan cracked jokes every five minutes, Ethan stayed calm and efficient, and I… well, I tried not to trip over my own sentences. But every so often, I'd catch Ethan looking at me—not for long, not enough to be obvious, just enough to make me wonder if he could read the mess of thoughts tumbling in my head. He really should stop looking at me.
By the time we packed up, Ryan was already making plans for tomorrow. "Same time?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said, my voice steadier now, though my insides still felt like Jell-O.
Ethan slipped his notebook into his bag, glancing up once more. That same unreadable look. That same quiet weight that made my breath stutter.
We walked out together, the three of us, but I felt like the entire room was still echoing with one simple line.
I don't doubt it.
And for reasons I couldn't explain, that was enough to keep me awake long after the day was over.