FINDING YOU , LOVING ME

THE THINGS HE REMEMBERS

CHAPTER 3

The Things He Remembers

Mia's POV

The rain had stopped by the time I arrived at school the next morning.

But somehow, my thoughts were still stuck in yesterday.

Especially on one person.

Ethan Reyes.

I didn't understand why I kept thinking about him.

Maybe it was because he was different.

Or maybe it was because, for some strange reason, he seemed to notice things about me that even my closest friends didn't.

I walked through the school gate, hugging my books against my chest.

"MI-A!"

I immediately recognized the voice.

I turned around and saw Lia, my best friend, running toward me.

"You look suspicious," she said as soon as she reached me.

I blinked. "Good morning to you too."

She narrowed her eyes.

"Why are you smiling?"

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I literally just got here."

"Exactly. And you're already smiling."

I rolled my eyes and continued walking.

Lia followed beside me.

"Okay," she said. "Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Who?"

I stopped.

"Who what?"

"Who made you smile?"

"No one."

"Is it Ethan?"

My eyes widened.

"Why would you even say his name?"

Lia gasped dramatically.

"Oh my gosh."

"What?"

"You reacted!"

"I did not."

"You absolutely did."

I pushed her shoulder lightly.

"Stop it."

She laughed.

"Fine. But I'm watching you."

I shook my head.

There was no way I was telling her about yesterday.

Especially not about the way Ethan had looked at me when he said—

"You don't have to pretend you're okay all the time."

Those words had stayed with me.

For some reason, they felt different coming from him.

---

After our morning classes, I headed toward the library.

I needed to return a book.

The library was unusually quiet, with only the soft sound of pages turning and chairs moving across the floor.

I walked toward the return desk.

Then I heard a familiar voice.

"You're early."

I froze.

I slowly turned around.

Ethan was sitting near the window.

Brown hoodie.

Coffee in hand.

Book open in front of him.

Of course.

"Do you always come here?" I asked.

He shrugged.

"Sometimes."

"That's what you said yesterday."

"Maybe you just keep coming here."

I stared at him.

"Are you saying I'm following you?"

A small smile appeared on his face.

"I'm saying it's possible."

I scoffed.

"You're annoying."

"And yet you're still talking to me."

I had no response.

He looked back at his book, clearly amused.

I walked toward the shelves, pretending I didn't care.

But after a few minutes, I noticed something.

There was an empty chair beside him.

I hesitated.

Then I sat down.

Neither of us spoke.

For a while, we simply read.

It wasn't awkward.

It was actually comfortable.

Then Ethan suddenly spoke.

"You write."

I looked at him.

"What?"

"You write."

My heart skipped.

"How do you know?"

He pointed toward my notebook.

The same notebook where I kept my ideas, unfinished stories, and random thoughts.

"You always carry it."

I looked down.

"You noticed that?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

He paused.

"I notice things."

There was something about the way he said it that made me curious.

"What kind of things?"

He looked at me.

"Things that matter."

For a second, neither of us spoke.

I quickly looked away.

"You're weird."

"I've been told."

I smiled.

Then I opened my notebook.

"Do you want to read something?"

His expression softened.

"Only if you want me to."

I turned to a page.

It was a short paragraph I'd written the night before.

A story about a girl who was afraid of being forgotten.

I handed him the notebook.

He read silently.

I watched his expression carefully.

After a few minutes, he closed it.

"It's good."

"That's it?"

He shook his head.

"No."

He handed the notebook back.

"It's honest."

I looked at him.

"What does that mean?"

"It feels like you."

My fingers tightened around the notebook.

"How do you know what I'm like?"

He didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he looked toward the window.

"Maybe I'm still trying to figure that out."

My heart beat faster.

Before I could respond, the bell rang.

I quickly stood.

"I have class."

"Me too."

We walked out together.

At the hallway, we stopped.

"I'll see you later?" he asked.

I smiled.

"Maybe."

He smiled back.

"Maybe."

I walked away.

But after a few steps, I stopped.

I turned around.

He was still standing there.

Still watching me.

And when our eyes met, he smiled.

For the first time, I wondered—

How long had Ethan Reyes been noticing me?