The bell rang, cutting through the dull hum of conversation in the hallways. I tugged my hoodie tighter, making my way to math class. The sleeves were too long and frayed at the cuffs, but I didn't care. It kept me warm, and more importantly, it helped me blend into the background.
I slipped into my usual seat in the back corner, dropping my notebook onto the desk. The seat beside me was empty, just the way I liked it. Empty seats didn't ask questions I didn't want to answer.
Then he walked in.
Noah Jackson.
His laugh hit me first, rolling into the room like a wave of warmth. When I glanced up, there he was, walking to his spot three rows ahead of me, surrounded by the usual crowd. His white shirt was crisp and perfectly ironed, tucked neatly into his tailored khakis. Everything about him screamed effortless.
And me? I had to mend the holes in my jeans last night with whatever scraps of fabric I could find.
I forced myself to look away, but it was too late. The tight feeling in my chest had already started, the way it always did when Noah was near.
"You're staring again."
I jumped. Tumi had slid into the seat beside me without a sound, her sharp eyes full of amusement.
"I wasn't staring," I muttered, flipping open my notebook and pretending to skim my notes.
"Oh, please," she said, leaning closer. "You're like a moth to a flame, and that flame is completely oblivious to your existence."
"Thanks for the pep talk," I grumbled.
Tumi softened, though the grin didn't leave her face. "Jamie, listen. I get it. Noah Jackson is gorgeous. He's also straight, rich, and about as likely to notice you as he is to catch a taxi to school. You need to let this go."
"I know," I said quietly. And I did know. But that didn't stop the stupid ache that settled in my chest every time I saw him.
Tumi sighed. "You deserve better than this, you know. You deserve someone who sees you."
I didn't answer. What could I say? That I didn't want "better," that I'd settle for the impossible if it meant Noah would just look at me, even once?
Before Tumi could push it further, Mr. Peters strode into the room, and the chatter died down. I kept my head down as he started the lesson, trying to focus. But every now and then, my eyes betrayed me, drifting to the back of Noah's head.
I hated myself for it.
By the time class ended, I'd barely written a thing. The room emptied quickly, but I stayed behind, fumbling with my bag to avoid walking out with the crowd. I watched Noah leave, laughing at some joke his friend told.
When the door finally swung shut behind him, I exhaled a long breath. Tumi was right. Chasing someone like Noah was like chasing the sun. It didn't matter how fast or far I ran; I'd never reach him.
But that didn't stop me from wanting to.
I slung my bag over my shoulder and stepped into the corridor, letting the noise of the school wash over me. The light streaming through the windows painted golden patterns on the floor, and for a moment, I let myself imagine a version of the world where someone like Noah Jackson could notice someone like me.
It was stupid, I knew. But sometimes, dreams were all you had.