Morning came like a chaotic storm—my mom's voice cutting through the fog of sleep.
"Get up! You're going to miss your bus!"
I groaned, dragging myself out of bed with the grace of a zombie. Everything felt like a blur—brushing my teeth, skipping breakfast, and stumbling onto the bus just as it was about to leave.
The ride to school felt unusually long, though. My mind wouldn't stop replaying fragments of yesterday. Her smile. That laugh. It was like my brain was stuck on a loop.
By the time I reached the classroom, I was running on autopilot. Same desk, same seat. The kid next to me was already deep into one of his nonsensical rants—aliens or conspiracy theories, maybe. I nodded absentmindedly, pretending to listen while my thoughts wandered elsewhere.
And then she walked in.
Eve.
She carried herself with the same confidence, like the world was hers to command. She didn't even glance in my direction, but that didn't stop me from noticing every little detail—the way her hair caught the light, the quiet authority in her stride.
I told myself to stop, to focus on literally anything else, but the harder I tried, the more impossible it became.
And then she turned.
Her eyes locked onto mine as she made her way across the room, clipboard in hand. I swear, time slowed down—her every step deliberate, her movements almost cinematic. Or maybe I was just losing it.
"Hi again," she said, stopping at my desk. She tapped her pencil lightly on the surface, a teasing smile playing on her lips.
I froze. Of course, I froze.
"You look nervous," she teased, her voice light and melodic. "Relax. I don't bite."
Great. She's mocking me. My brain scrambled for a response, and all I managed was a weak, "Uh… yeah. Sure."
Her laugh was soft, almost musical, and I felt a strange sense of victory hearing it. "You're funny," she said, her eyes lingering on mine for a moment. "Anyway, just checking in. See you around."
And just like that, she was gone, moving on to the next desk like nothing had happened.
The rest of the day passed in a daze. Classes came and went, conversations floated around me, but none of it felt real. My thoughts kept circling back to her—her smile, her laugh, the way she somehow managed to pull me out of my own head.
By the time I got home, I was completely drained. My body felt heavy, but my mind wouldn't stop racing.
That night, as I stared at the ceiling, I replayed everything. Every word she said, every fleeting glance, every moment we shared—even if it was barely a minute.
I didn't realize I was smiling until my cheeks started to hurt.
This is different, I thought.
For the first time in a long time, I felt a flicker of curiosity, a spark of something new.
What would tomorrow bring?