Saturday Morning – 8:12 AM
"Wait... you're telling me now that a girl is coming over?" Mom asked, halfway through buttering toast.
I kept my eyes on my cereal. "I forgot last night. It was a crazy day."
Dad raised an eyebrow over his newspaper. "Vanessa Whitmore, the head girl? The one all the moms talk about in PTA meetings?"
"Yes, that one," I muttered.
Mom leaned forward, her voice suddenly suspicious. "Are you two...?"
"No!" I said too quickly. "It's just a school project. Antarctica. Research. Ice."
"Uh-huh," she said, smirking. "I'll tidy the living room just in case." Should I bake something ?
I sighed. I had a feeling my social awkwardness was about to be tested.
At 10:03 am
The doorbell rang.
I nearly dropped my notebook. She's early. Or maybe I was just late getting ready.
"Alvin, she's here!" Mom called from the hallway, peeking in with a knowing smile
There she was.
Vanessa Whitmore. In a light blue hoodie and jeans, holding a laptop bag. She looked...normal. Not like the school goddess she played Monday to Friday. Her hair was tied in a loose ponytail, and she wasn't wearing makeup—unless she was and it was the expensive kind that made it look like you weren't.
"Hey," she said, eyeing my Star Wars T-shirt with an amused half-smile.
"Hi. Uh... come in."
She stepped inside, glancing around. "Nice place. Smells like cinnamon."
"Yeah, Mom bakes stress muffins."
Vanessa raised an eyebrow. "Is that a thing?"
"It is in this house."
"Hmm. I guess I'll need one by the end of this meeting," she said, brushing past me toward the living room.
Mom appeared before I could breathe. "You must be Vanessa!
Vanessa laughed softly. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Bennett. Thank you for having me."
"Well, make yourself at home. Alvin, take her to the study. And clean that desk before you dump your social life on it."
I flushed. "I don't have a social life."
"Exactly."
Vanessa snorted as I led her to the study room, which was mostly just a small corner with a table, two mismatched chairs, and shelves full of old magazines Dad never read.
She pulled out her laptop and settled in like she owned the place.
"So," I said, trying to focus, "the IAE wants us to make a research outline about Antarctica—climate change impact, local species, current conservation methods, right?"
"Yep," she said, already typing. "We'll divide the topics. You take wildlife. I'll take the science of climate patterns. Then we cross-review each other's work."
I stared at her. "You planned all that already?"
"I like structure," she said, then glanced up. "You don't?"
"I function on chaos and occasional luck."
"I can tell."
We worked in silence for a few minutes. Well, I typed three sentences and deleted five.
Vanessa, meanwhile, looked focused. Too focused. Like this meant more to her than a school project.
"So," I ventured, "why are you really going on this trip? I mean, aside from the obvious 'future academic glory' thing?"
She paused, then smirked. "Do you always interrogate your guests?"
"Only the ones who change all the chits in the teacher's bowl."
She froze.
I said it lightly—half-joking—but I noticed her fingers tighten on the keyboard. It was a flash, barely there. But it was real.
"That's... a weird thing to say," she replied calmly. "You think I cheated?"
"Not really." I shrugged. "But you do seem the type to get what you want."
Vanessa leaned back in her chair. "And you're the type who notices more than he lets on."
Was that admiration in her voice? Or challenge?
"I just don't like coincidences," I said.
She stared at me, then smirked. "Well, maybe the universe just ships us."
I choked on my own breath.
Vanessa laughed. "Relax. I was kidding."
I wasn't sure she was.
We continued working. Occasionally, our hands brushed as we reached for the same pen or book. I pretended not to notice. She definitely noticed.
My mom brought in snacks—homemade muffins and juice. Vanessa thanked her so politely that Mom almost invited her to stay for dinner.
At one point, Vanessa noticed the miniature bonsai on my desk.
"You have a bonsai?" she asked.
"Yeah. My uncle gave it to me. Said if I could keep it alive for a year, I could handle responsibility."
She smiled gently, brushing her fingers over a leaf. "You've had it long?"
"Three years."
Her eyes lingered on the tiny plant, then on me. "Maybe you're more serious than you pretend to be."
"And maybe you're less serious than you pretend to be."
Our eyes locked.
And something passed between us.
Not attraction, exactly. Not yet. But... recognition.
Vanessa looked away first.
We worked for another hour, quieter now. Eventually, she closed her laptop.
"Well," she said, standing up, "today wasn't boring. That's a win."
"You mean, I wasn't boring."
"Don't let it go to your head."
She made it to the door before turning around. "See you tomorrow at my place, 10 a.m. Try not to wear that T-shirt again. It screams 'I've never been on a date.'"
I opened my mouth to reply, but she was already gone.
Scene shift: Vanessa's room, night.
She stared at her ceiling, her laptop closed beside her.
He wasn't what she expected.
He notices things. He looks away when he smiles. He cares about bonsai trees.
Vanessa rolled over, annoyed.
No. Don't get soft. You have a plan.
She reached for her phone, typing in a reminder:
MISSION: Make Alvin fall for you. Break his heart.
But her thumb hesitated before hitting save.
Instead, she changed it to:
MISSION: ???
She scowled, tossed the phone aside, and muttered under her breath—
"Stupid bonsai."