Chapter Four: The Shift
1198 Words
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Monday mornings always carried a certain weight. The buzzing of alarm clocks, the rush to school, the sea of groggy teenagers dragging their feet through the halls—it was all routine. But this Monday felt… different.
Mia couldn’t explain it. Maybe it was the way the photo strip from the arcade night kept falling out of her notebook every time she opened it. Or maybe it was how her stomach did an annoying little flip when she saw Jake leaning against her locker, waiting like he’d done it a hundred times before.
“Morning,” he said, eyes lighting up when he saw her.
“Hey,” Mia replied, trying to act casual as she shoved the photo strip deeper into her bag.
He caught it before she could zip it. “Still keeping this hidden?”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“It’s adorable,” Jake said with a grin, tucking it back into her bag himself. “You looked like you were actually having fun.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.”
Jake raised an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”
Before she could answer, the bell rang. They parted ways for first period, but something unspoken lingered in the air—like a conversation paused halfway through.
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In Literature class, Chloe leaned over and whispered, “So… are you two a thing yet?”
Mia gave her a sharp look. “We’re friends.”
“Uh-huh. And I’m dating the principal.”
Mia ignored her.
But the truth was, even she wasn’t sure anymore.
It wasn’t like she thought about Jake all the time—except, maybe she did. She noticed the way his hair fell into his eyes when he was focused. She knew that he always put his earbuds in during study hall but never actually played music. She had even started recognizing the way he smiled only slightly when he was genuinely happy.
And she hated that it was starting to mean something.
Still, Mia kept her thoughts locked away. They had a friendship. A good one. Risking it with feelings she didn’t even fully understand would be reckless. Besides, Jake hadn’t said anything to suggest he felt the same. Not really.
So she kept her head down. Focused on school. Pretended everything was normal.
Until lunch.
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The cafeteria was buzzing with activity—trays clattered, laughter echoed, and someone somewhere had dropped their milk carton for the third time that week.
Jake spotted Mia already sitting at their usual table, a half-eaten sandwich in front of her and a book in her lap.
He slid into the seat across from her. “Do you ever not read while eating?”
She looked up, grinning. “Do you ever not steal people’s fries?”
Jake reached over and snatched one. “Nope.”
As they talked, a voice suddenly interrupted them.
“Hey, Jake,” a girl said. Mia turned to see Marcy—one of the cheerleaders—standing beside their table, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
Jake blinked. “Oh, hey.”
“You coming to the game on Friday?” Marcy asked, smiling. “We’re playing Crestview. You should come. Maybe we could hang after?”
Mia froze mid-bite.
Jake hesitated. “Uh, I might. Depends.”
Marcy leaned in slightly. “You should. It’ll be fun.”
With a final wink, she walked away, leaving Jake awkwardly chewing on his fry.
Mia kept her eyes on her sandwich. “You should go. Sounds like your scene.”
Jake frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Just—cheerleaders, football games, hanging out after. You fit in.”
Jake looked at her. “You don’t think I fit here?”
Mia shrugged. “You fit wherever you want. That’s kind of your thing.”
He tilted his head. “Are you… jealous?”
She snorted. “Of Marcy? Please.”
But the way she tore a piece off her sandwich said otherwise.
Jake leaned back, studying her. “You’re terrible at lying.”
“You’re annoying,” Mia muttered.
“And you’re kind of cute when you’re mad.”
She looked up sharply, heat creeping into her face.
He grinned. “Just an observation.”
“Do all your observations involve making girls uncomfortable?”
Jake smirked. “Only the ones I like talking to.”
Mia opened her mouth to respond, but the bell rang, saving her from having to.
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Later that day, Mia wandered into the press room after school. It was quiet except for the hum of the computers and the distant echo of students in the hallway. She liked it here—the calm, the stillness. It was one of the few places where she could breathe.
She sat at the main desk, sorting through some layout files for the school newsletter. A few minutes later, the door creaked open.
Jake.
He looked surprised to see her. “Didn’t think anyone was in here.”
“I could say the same.”
He walked over, hands in his pockets. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said too quickly.
Jake raised an eyebrow. “So, about earlier…”
“What about it?”
“You seemed weird. After Marcy.”
Mia stared at the screen. “It’s none of my business who you talk to.”
Jake stepped closer. “You’re right. It’s not.”
That hurt more than it should’ve.
“But I wanted to talk to you. Not her.”
Mia finally looked up.
Jake leaned on the edge of the desk, his voice quieter now. “I like hanging out with you. You’re smart. Funny. You make algebra sound interesting, which should be impossible.”
“Wow,” Mia said dryly. “Such high praise.”
“I’m serious.”
He looked at her like he meant it, and suddenly the press room felt smaller, quieter, heavier.
“I didn’t come to this school looking for anyone,” he said. “But then I got stuck sitting next to this girl who argued with me about poetry and thought I was full of myself.”
“You were full of yourself,” she muttered.
Jake grinned. “Still am, maybe. But you called me out on it. And I like that.”
There was a beat of silence. Then another.
“I like talking to you, too,” Mia admitted. “Even if you’re insufferable.”
“Progress,” Jake said softly.
Then, just as quickly as the mood had shifted, Jake stood up, clearing his throat. “I should probably head out before my ride leaves me again.”
“Right,” Mia said, her heart still racing for reasons she refused to name.
He turned to go, but paused at the door. “Hey, Mia?”
“Yeah?”
He gave her a crooked smile. “Don’t be jealous of girls like Marcy. You’re way more interesting.”
And then he was gone.
Leaving Mia sitting alone, cheeks warm, heart pounding, and her thoughts a tangled mess of what-ifs and maybes.
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- Writer
