The Boy Who Loved Me Wrong

Chapter 1: The Way He Looked at Me It started with a feeling Aria could not explain, the kind that settled quietly under her skin and refused to leave, growing heavier with every passing second until ignoring it became impossible, like something inside her was trying to warn her before anything had even begun. The hallway was louder than usual, voices overlapping, lockers slamming, footsteps echoing against polished floors, but none of it reached her the way it normally would, because the moment she stepped inside, something shifted, subtle but undeniable, as if the air itself had changed without asking for permission. She slowed without meaning to, her fingers tightening slightly around the strap of her bag as her eyes moved through the crowd, searching for a reason, for anything that could explain why her chest felt tight all of a sudden, why her breathing refused to settle into something normal. And then she saw him. He was standing near the far end of the corridor, half turned away, one shoulder resting lazily against the lockers as if he had nowhere else to be and no reason to move, his presence quiet but impossible to ignore, like he belonged there in a way that made everyone else feel temporary. Aria did not know his name. She had never spoken to him before. So why did it feel like she had just walked into something she would not be able to walk out of? “Hey, are you even listening?” The voice beside her pulled her back, sharp enough to break the strange pull that had locked her in place, and she blinked, turning her head slightly to find Mia watching her with narrowed eyes, clearly annoyed, clearly expecting an answer she had not been paying attention to. “What?” Aria asked, her voice softer than usual, like she had not fully returned yet. Mia let out a small breath, shaking her head as she crossed her arms. “I have been talking for the past two minutes, where did you go?” Aria hesitated, just for a second, her gaze drifting back before she could stop herself, drawn again to where he stood, still in the same place, still looking like he existed outside of everything happening around him. “Nowhere,” she said, even though it was not true. Mia followed her line of sight, her expression shifting the moment she noticed who Aria was looking at, something unreadable flashing across her face before she quickly looked away. “Do not,” Mia said, her tone changing, quieter now, but firmer, like she was stepping into something serious. Aria frowned slightly, confused by the sudden shift. “Do not what?” Mia glanced back at her, then toward him again, like she was making sure he could not hear them even from that distance, which made no sense, but somehow still felt necessary. “Do not get curious,” she said, her voice low. “It never ends well.” Aria let out a small, almost disbelieving breath, her brows pulling together as she looked at her friend, trying to understand where this was coming from. “About a guy I do not even know?” she asked, a faint hint of amusement slipping into her tone, even though something about Mia’s expression made it hard to fully dismiss. Mia did not smile. “That is exactly how it starts,” she replied. Something about the way she said it lingered, heavier than it should have, but before Aria could ask anything else, the bell rang, loud and sharp, cutting through the moment and forcing everything back into motion as students began to move, the hallway shifting from scattered noise into a rushing current of bodies heading in different directions. Aria adjusted her grip on her bag, letting Mia pull her along as they moved with the crowd, but she could still feel it, that same strange awareness pressing at the back of her mind, refusing to fade no matter how much she tried to focus on something else. And then, just as she stepped past him, close enough to notice the faint scent of something clean and unfamiliar, something that did not belong to the chaos of the hallway, it happened. He looked at her. Not by accident. Not in passing. Deliberate. Slow. Like he had been waiting for her to get close enough. Her steps faltered, just for a second, her breath catching in a way that felt small but noticeable, like her body had reacted before her mind could catch up, and for a moment, everything else disappeared, the noise, the movement, even Mia’s voice beside her, all of it fading into something distant and unimportant. Because the way he was looking at her did not feel normal. It was not curiosity. It was not recognition. It was something else entirely, something that made her chest tighten without warning, something that felt too intense for two people who had never even spoken before. And yet, he did not look away. “Aria,” Mia called, her voice breaking through again, sharper this time, pulling her forward before she could stop completely. Aria forced herself to move, her feet catching up with the rest of her as she looked ahead, refusing to turn back again, even though every part of her felt pulled in that direction, like something unfinished had just been left behind. She told herself it did not matter. That it was nothing. Just a moment. Just a look. Something she would forget by the end of the day. But even as she stepped into her classroom, even as she took her seat and tried to focus on something real, something normal, she could still feel it, that same unsettling awareness sitting quietly in her chest, refusing to disappear. Like something had already begun. And she had no idea how to stop it. --- By lunch, she almost convinced herself she imagined it. Almost. Until she opened her locker, her fingers pausing the moment she noticed something that had not been there before, something small, almost easy to miss if she had not been paying attention. A folded piece of paper, tucked neatly between her books like it belonged there. Her heart skipped, just once, sharp enough to make her hesitate before reaching for it, her mind already racing through possibilities that did not make sense, that should not make sense, because no one even knew her locker combination except her. “Mia,” she called softly, her voice tighter now, her fingers brushing against the edge of the paper without fully picking it up. “Did you put something in my locker?” Mia looked over from a few steps away, confusion clear on her face. “Why would I do that?” Aria swallowed, her throat suddenly dry as she slowly pulled the note out, unfolding it carefully, like whatever was written inside might change depending on how fast she moved. There was only one line. Simple. Clean. Enough to make her stomach drop. I have been watching you. Her breath caught. A chill moved down her spine, slow and deliberate, as her eyes scanned the words again, like reading it twice would somehow make it less real, less unsettling, less personal. “Mia,” she whispered, barely recognizing her own voice now. “This is not funny.” “I did not do anything,” Mia said quickly, stepping closer, her expression shifting the moment she saw the note, whatever irritation she had earlier disappearing completely. “Who gave you that?” Aria did not answer. Because she already knew where her thoughts were going, already felt the connection forming in a way she could not explain, in a way she did not want to believe, but could not ignore either. Slowly, almost against her own will, she turned her head. And there he was. Standing at the end of the hallway again, like he had never moved, like he had always been there, his gaze already on her, steady, unreadable, and far too calm for someone who should not even be part of this. Her fingers tightened around the note. Her pulse quickened. And this time, when their eyes met, something about his expression shifted, subtle but clear enough to make her chest tighten all over again. Like he was waiting. Like he knew she would figure it out. And maybe the most terrifying part was not the note, not the message, not even the way he kept looking at her like she was already part of something she did not understand. It was the quiet, sinking realization that this was not random. It was not a coincidence. And whatever this was, whatever he wanted, whatever had just started without her permission… It was already too late to pretend she was not involved.