Watch where you're going, nerd!"
The school's golden boy barreled past him, sending books and limbs scattering across the corridor floor. Laughter followed—brief, careless, practiced.
What unsettled me wasn't the bullying itself. Humans had always been good at cruelty, especially the casual kind. And it wasn't the boy on the floor either, still learning—or refusing to learn—how to speak up for himself.
It was the way he looked at me.
Even as he gathered himself, glasses crooked, fingers trembling slightly, his eyes stayed fixed on mine. As if I were the reason he'd stood up that morning. As if I were the reason he was still breathing.
I was on my phone. At least, that's what anyone would have assumed.
So how did I notice?
Because it had been happening for years.
It began in freshman year.
Freshman Year
"Everyone is meant to report to the LA's office the moment they resume. If you haven't done that, you should. Or don't—if you want your admission revoked!"
The voice echoed down the hallway, sharp and unforgiving. I looked up just in time to spot the infamous class administrator, the one everyone talked about like he was some urban legend instead of a real person.
A few minutes later, I found myself in the level adviser's office with a handful of other students—and him.
The odd-looking boy.
He fit the nerd stereotype too neatly: glasses, quiet posture, hands folded like he was afraid of taking up space. The only thing that didn't match was his height. He was tall. Handsome-kind-of-tall, if I was being honest. Taller even than the LA, who already towered over most people in the room.
I caught myself staring.
When he turned toward me, his eyes—already magnified behind thick lenses—widened in surprise. Why? I couldn't say. The moment stretched just long enough for me to notice.
Then he looked away, fast. Too fast. Like he'd been caught cheating on a test. He pulled his hoodie up and angled his body away from me entirely.
Weirdo.
I didn't think I looked like a cannibal. I was just a girl.
That should have been the end of it.
But it wasn't.
The staring began after that.
Every class. Every break. Every hallway.
As long as he could be there, he was.
And whenever I caught him watching me, he'd look away—fidgeting, adjusting his glasses, pretending to be fascinated by literally anything else. Then, the moment I turned my attention elsewhere, I could feel it again.
His eyes.
This went on until our penultimate year.
Current Day
"Fir, man, you really gotta stop staring at her," Jesse said. "If you like her, then talk to her. This staring thing? It's really gonna creep her out."
He shook my hand to pull my attention back to him. Jesse was my only friend.
I tried to focus on him. I really did.
But how could I, when she was in the room?
Everyone probably thought I worshipped her. I was always staring. That was what they saw.
But when I wasn't reading—catching up on my studies so they wouldn't distract me during lectures—I drew her.
I'd mastered her features. Her grey eyes, close enough to see the golden flecks but not close enough to know what they meant. Her nose, scrunching every time she looked back at me. Her lips, curling just slightly when they did.
Little tells.
Proof.
She didn't dislike my staring as much as people thought.
Yes. She liked it.
It hurt to look away from her—but I did.
My mistake.
Jesse's eyes widened suddenly, flicking past me. I turned back just in time for my vision to blur grey.
Eth.
I called him Meth. He thought he was my bully—cute. He didn't know it was the only punishment I believed I deserved.
Everyone thought I was a creep for making her uncomfortable. If someone had to hit me for it, so be it.
But there he was. Standing too close. Breathing her air. Taking up her space like he belonged there.
My blood boiled.
He didn't deserve to stand in her presence. He should've been kneeling. Kowtowing. Grateful for even being noticed.
I should have stood up. I should have walked over and pulled him out of her sight.
But she was speaking to him. Giving him her attention. Her grace.
So I stayed still.
I watched.
And watched.
And watched.
Until her eyes met mine for a single, silent second—telling me to back down.
No one else noticed. They never did. All they ever saw was a creepy nerd.
But baby?
She saw everything.
She knew everything they didn't.
And they thought I worshipped her?
Fuck yes, I did.
I breathed the air she allowed me to.
And I loved it.