Loving Him

Chapter 3 - Lab Buddies (Partners)

The following day in Chemistry, I got to class early. Again.

There was something about the eerie silence before class started that helped settle the thoughts racing through my mind. It had just been a day since Jayden texted me, still somehow, it felt like something between us had... made a change.

I sat at our table and pulled out my chemistry notes, trying to look busy. And not to look eager.

He arrived a few minutes before the bell, just as usual ,hoodie on, headphones around his neck. This time though, he glanced at me when he sat down.

Just one glance but it was enough to make my heart flutter.

"Hey," I said, silently than usual.

"Hey." His voice was rough, low. He paused before adding, “You forgot your pen in my notebook as well.”

I frowned. “I’m really sure I'm not that forgetful. You sure you’re not just stealing my stuff so we’ll have to talk again?”

That almost got a smile. Almost.

He slid the pen across the table and it landed perfectly in front of me. “Maybe.” He shrugs.

I blinked. “Wait did you just admit to... flirting?”

He shrugged again, looking away. “Don’t get too used to it.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or roll my eyes. Instead, I reached for the pen and flipped to our experiment guide. “You want to read or mix?”

“Mix,” he said, tying his hair back in a loose knot at the nape of his neck. I didn’t even realize how long it had grown. There was something almost artistic about the way he moved like every action was calculated but unintentional. A contradiction I couldn’t stop noticing.

As he poured the solution into the beaker, I read the next steps loud enough for him to hear. We worked in sync. He wasn’t loud or overly confident, but he was precise and Very efficient.

And when he wasn’t making sketches on the side of the worksheet, he was stealing glances at me.

“I saw what you drew yesterday,” I said, quietly, not looking up from my notes.

He paused. “I threw it away.”

“I know. But I still saw it.”

He didn’t respond right away. The silence stretched too long, too awkward.

“I wasn’t trying to be weird,” he finally said. “It’s just something I do. Draw things I can’t explain.”

“Things or people?”

“People sometimes but very rare,” he admitted.

“And what exactly were you trying to figure out with that sketch?”

He met my eyes then. “I don’t know. You looked like you were carrying something. Something invisible.”

My breath held in my throat. No one had ever said that about me before. Most people just assumed I had everything together because I smiled a lot and got straight A's. But he’d seen right through that. Somehow.

“Maybe you were just projecting,” I said, deflecting.

“Hmm....Maybe.”

But I didn’t believe that. And neither did he.

****

At lunch, Serena noticed the shift immediately.

“You’re acting weird,” she said, biting into her apple. “And you’re smiling at your salad.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are. Spill.”

I hesitated. I didn’t want to lie, but I also didn’t want to dive into the full detail of what Jayden and I did or didn’t talk about in Chem class.

“I think he’s not as bad as everyone says.”

Serena raised a sharp brow. “Uh oh.”

“What?”

“That’s the gateway sentence. ‘He’s not as bad as everyone says’ leads directly to ‘I think I like him’ and then boom you’re crying on my shoulder when he does something completely on-brand and brooding.”

I laughed, trying to brush it off, but her words stuck with me all afternoon.

****

By the time school ended, the sky had turned a deep shade of grey, clouds looming heavy overhead. I stayed behind in the library to finish some homework. Serena had dance club. I was alone. Until I wasn’t.

“The library’s always boring at this hour,” Jayden’s voice said from behind the row of books I was seated by.

I turned around. “And yet you are here.”

He sat across from me and pulled out his sketchbook. “I like the quiet space.”

I closed my textbook halfway. “Do you always draw in silence?”

He nodded. “It’s much easier to listen to people’s expressions that way.”

I tilted my head. “You draw what you feel, or what other people feel?”

He didn’t answer at first, flipping to a page halfway through the sketchbook. He turned it toward me.

It was a pencil sketch of me. Again. Just this time, I was smiling. Only, the smile didn’t reach my eyes.

“You feel things you don’t say,” he said softly.

The air between us thickened. I wanted to look away. Instead, I whispered, “So do you.”

For the first time, I saw it that flicker of surprise. He hadn’t expected me to see him either.

“I should go,” he said abruptly, closing the sketchbook.

“You don’t have to.”

His hand paused on the zipper of his bag. “Why do you talk to me, Layla?”

It was the first time he said my name.

“I don’t know,” I admitted honestly. “You make me curious.”

He looked at me for a moment. Like really looked then nodded.

“That’s dangerous,” he murmured, more to himself than to me.

And with that, he was gone.

****

Later that night, I found myself staring at the ceiling in the dark space of my room, his words echoing like thunder in my head.

Curiosity was dangerous.

But so was the way I was starting to feel.

And I didn’t know how to stop.

Neither do I think I want to.