4
793 Words
By the time I walk into school Monday morning, I’ve got three things:
My physics homework, shockingly complete.
A brand-new hoodie stolen from Jordyn’s closet.
A tiny, burning thing lodged in my chest I refuse to name.
It may or may not have Eli’s smile attached to it.
Whatever. Not important.
“Blake!” Jordyn calls the moment I step into the hall. Her glossy curls bounce as she jogs over, perfectly manicured nails clicking against her hydro flask like a warning bell.
Behind her, Skye trails along, arms crossed, chewing her gum like it personally offended her.
“Where were you Saturday night?” Jordyn demands. “We went to that rooftop thing without you and the photos were, like, tragic without our triangle symmetry.”
“Yeah,” Skye chimes in, eyeing me like I’m hiding a corpse. “You weren’t sick. You weren’t grounded. And you didn’t even lie. Rude.”
“I was studying.”
Both girls freeze like I just confessed to murder.
“With who?” Skye asks, eyes narrowing.
I hesitate one second too long.
Jordyn gasps. “Oh my God. It is the nerd.”
“He has a name,” I mutter, already heading to my locker.
They follow.
“Wait—are you serious right now?” Skye asks, skipping in front of me. “You ditched us… for Eli Ramirez?”
“I didn’t ditch you. I just had… things.”
“Things with cheekbones and calculus,” Jordyn says. “Unacceptable.”
I open my locker and try to act chill, even though my stomach is doing cartwheels.
“It’s just tutoring,” I say. “Not a big deal.”
Skye tilts her head. “You’re blushing.”
“I’m not.”
“You so are.”
Jordyn leans in. “If you’re into him, just say so. I won’t even judge.”
“I’m not into him.”
I slam my locker shut just in time to turn around—and almost slam into Eli.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear, looking like he absolutely didn’t mean to overhear any of that, but definitely did.
“Morning,” he says, way too calmly.
I blink. “Hey.”
He nods at Jordyn and Skye, both of whom blink like they’ve just seen a ghost. Or a mathlete in the flesh.
Then he turns back to me. “You forgot your notes.”
He hands over a folded piece of paper. Our work from Saturday. I don’t miss the tiny “you got this” he scribbled in the corner.
My stomach does the thing again.
“Thanks,” I say, softer than I mean to.
“No problem,” he replies, then walks away like it’s no big deal, even though half the hallway is now watching us like it’s Riverdale and I’m about to get pregnant from eye contact.
Skye gapes. “Okay… what was that?”
I stuff the notes into my bag. “I told you. Tutoring.”
“Tutoring doesn’t come with smolder,” Jordyn says. “That was full-on smolder.”
“It wasn’t anything.”
But it was.
And I don’t know what to do with that.
Later, at lunch, I sit with the girls at our usual outdoor table, but I can’t focus.
Not on the gossip. Not on Skye’s retelling of some cheer captain drama at Westmont. Not even on the fact that someone wore leggings as pants and got caught by the assistant principal.
I keep glancing across the courtyard.
Where Eli sits. Alone. As usual. Reading a book with a cracked spine and a coffee in a reusable thermos.
He doesn’t look up. Not once.
But I still feel it—that invisible thread tugging tighter every time I try to ignore it.
“What are you looking at?” Skye finally snaps, twisting around to follow my gaze.
I look away too fast.
“No one.”
“Oh my God,” Jordyn breathes. “You’re into him.”
“I am not.”
She grins. “This is so much better than I hoped.”
“For the last time,” I hiss, “it’s not a thing.”
Skye raises a brow. “Sure it’s not. Just like your ‘tutoring’ didn’t come with heart eyes and secret smiles.”
I shoot her a glare, but the worst part?
They’re not entirely wrong.
Because even though I shouldn’t… even though this entire thing is a bad idea…
Part of me kind of is into him.
Which is a problem.
Because boys like Eli?
They don’t do girls like me.
And girls like me?
We don’t survive falling for the ones who see too much.
- Writer
