At the wrong time.

Chapter 1: Blessed by Destiny

My name is Dara, and for the past three years I’ve been an expert at watching without being seen.

Westbridge High is one of those big, bright high schools that look like they came straight out of a TV series: wide hallways lined with colorful lockers, trophy cases full of basketball and football awards, and a central courtyard where everyone gathers between classes. Here, everyone seems to have their group, their role, their place. I chose the back of the Advanced Literature classroom, the seat by the window overlooking the north courtyard. From there I can observe everything without anyone noticing me: how the cheerleading girls always sit at the same lunch table, how the debate team guys argue passionately about politics, and how the sun paints golden stripes across the floor in the afternoon.

And above all… I can see him.

Matthew Carter.

He’s a senior, a year ahead of me. Everyone knows him, but not in the loud, superficial way. Matthew is… cool. In that effortless way that makes it seem like nothing costs him too much. He walks the hallways with quiet confidence, like the whole world moves a little slower for him. He’s smart, gets excellent grades without seeming to study hard, and has a sharp sense of humor with that playfully egocentric touch that makes everything sound fun instead of arrogant. “Of course I got an A+, what did you expect? I’m Matthew Carter,” he sometimes says with a crooked smile, and people laugh because they know he’s joking. He loves music. He always has his headphones hanging around his neck, and I’ve heard him humming “Demons” by Imagine Dragons when he walks alone. Sometimes he even sings a bit of Arctic Monkeys. I think we have similar taste. That little detail has always seemed way too attractive and pretty cool to me.

I know a lot about him. Maybe too much. I call it “healthy stalking” in my head so I don’t feel too weird. I know his favorite coffee is an Americano with an extra shot of espresso, that he loves horror movies as well as sci-fi, and that he plays guitar in his room when he needs to think. I know he has a younger sister on the girls’ basketball team and that he always picks her up after practice. I know he’s sociable, that people naturally gravitate toward him… but I also know that even though he’s surrounded by friends, there’s something in his eyes that sometimes looks a little distant.

What I didn’t know back then was that he had a girlfriend.

Her name is Isabella. They’ve been together for almost two years. But she moved to Spain three months ago, and from the conversations I’ve overheard, the distance is wearing them down. Are they about to break up? That… I still don’t know.

On the other hand, I’ve never had a boyfriend. Not even one. Not even a “almost.” My romantic experience is limited to the characters in the books I read and the feelings I write in my blue notebook when no one is watching. Although, to be clear, several guys have been interested in me to the point of harassing me… There was one who used to follow me home. It was really creepy. That’s why I don’t dream of getting too close to guys. Sometimes they scare me… But I know Matthew isn’t that kind of guy. He’s always very kind and respectful to everyone, even though I had never spoken directly to him.

Until today.

It was a normal Thursday in March. The sun was pouring strongly through the main hallway windows, creating those golden stripes on the floor that look like they came out of a movie. I was walking with my head slightly down, hugging my books to my chest, still thinking about the literary analysis essay I had to turn in next week. My mind kept circling around a sentence I had written that morning in my notebook: “If only you knew I existed.”

Then suddenly I bumped softly into someone.

“Whoa, sorry about that,” said a warm, amused voice. It sounded genuinely apologetic but carried that cool vibe that surrounded him.

I looked up and the world stopped for half a second.

Matthew was right in front of me, backpack hanging from one shoulder and that crooked smile that slightly crinkled his eyes. His black hair, straight at the roots and slightly wavy at the tips, fell over his forehead in a way that looked casual but perfect.

“It’s okay,” I murmured, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. My voice came out quieter than I wanted.

He didn’t keep walking like I expected. Instead, he tilted his head a little, looking at me with real curiosity, as if he actually wanted to know who I was.

“Dara, right? I’ve seen you in the courtyard sometimes, always writing in that blue notebook. What do you write? Stories?... Secret poetry that no one can read?”

I blinked, surprised. Did he know my name? Had he really noticed me before?

“Just… things,” I answered softly, but with that small burst of directness that comes out when I feel cornered. “Nothing important, really.”

Matthew let out a soft laugh, but with that playfully egocentric touch that defined him.

“Come on, nothing that comes from you can be ‘nothing important.’ I’m Matthew Carter — I know talent when I see it,” he said, winking exaggeratedly, clearly joking about himself.

I felt a treacherous smile trying to escape my lips.

Also, my younger sister is on the girls’ basketball team. She told me you were good, but that you quit this year. Why? If you don’t mind me asking.

I felt a knot in my throat. Basketball had been my escape: every jump, every hard rebound against the floor, every basket expressed a buried feeling. On the court it was a way to release all the emotion I kept inside. But this year there simply wasn’t enough time anymore.

“Lack of time,” I said simply, shrugging a little. “Between advanced classes, homework, and everything else… it wasn’t enough.”

He nodded slowly, as if he perfectly understood that invisible pressure everyone feels at Westbridge.

“It happens. Senior year is crazy with college applications and all that, but junior year isn’t easy either. Sometimes you have to choose what to let go so you don’t burn out. If you ever need advice on how to organize your time better, or how to survive assignments without losing your mind, or even just to vent… I’m around. I don’t bite, I swear… Well, maybe a little, but only if you provoke me,” he added with that cool, teasing smile.

He winked at me again and just as I was about to say something more, the bell rang announcing the end of the lunch block.

“I have to run to my next class,” he said, taking a step back but still smiling. “It’s a shame we couldn’t talk more. See you later, and maybe you’ll want to talk about whatever you write in that notebook or about anything else. For real. I’m pretty good at giving advice, even if it sounds egocentric to say so.”

He walked away down the hallway, blending into the river of students heading to their classrooms, and I stayed there, leaning against the cold wall, with my hand pressed to my chest as if that could calm my racing heartbeat.

For the first time in three years, Matthew Carter had said my name.

He had seen me.

And he had offered me his time.

As the hallway noise wrapped around me again, an uncomfortable little voice slipped into my head and refused to stay quiet:

Why now?

Why right now… when everything is about to get complicated?