I didn't plan it.
None of it.
Not the way I turned toward her in class and found myself staring.
Not the way my hand instinctively shot out when she tripped.
And definitely not the way I just… held on.
Her hand felt soft. Small. Real.
And I didn't want to let go.
I wasn't thinking about what anyone might see in the hallway. I wasn't thinking about the fact that I'd never held hands with a girl before — not like that. Not because I had to.
Because I wanted to.
---
When she tripped over that box, my heart actually jumped. I caught her waist, pulled her back, and suddenly… we were close.
Too close.
I could see the way her eyes widened, startled. I could see the tiny freckles on her nose and the way her lips parted like she was going to say something but forgot how.
I probably looked the same.
The moment froze — like time had taken a breath.
And when she looked up at me, I just held her hand tighter.
That was the moment I realized something I hadn't wanted to admit.
Ava Canter was… different.
---
I'd always kept my distance from people — especially girls. It wasn't that I didn't like anyone. It was just… exhausting.
The attention. The rumors. The expectations.
They liked the version of me they saw, not the version I was.
But Ava hadn't tried to flirt. She hadn't giggled at everything I said.
She was honest. Curious. Soft, but not fake.
And she talked to me like I was just… me.
Not Damien-the-artist. Not Damien-the-athlete.
Just Damien.
When I walked her to class, I didn't speak much. I didn't know what to say. But holding her hand… it felt right.
So I didn't let go.
And the wild part?
She didn't either.
---
When we reached Room 312, she looked at me with those eyes — brown, warm, and a little confused, like she was trying to figure out what this was.
To be honest, so was I.
But I gave her a smile, brushed my thumb across the back of her hand without even thinking, and forced myself to let go.
I didn't want to.
Not even a little.
But I didn't want to scare her off either.
---
As I walked away, I couldn't stop myself from looking back.
She was still standing there, by the classroom door, holding the strap of her bag with one hand and staring at the spot where I'd been.
Yeah.
I knew right then:
Ava wasn't just some pretty face I'd sketch in the margins of my notebook.
She wasn't just a new girl passing through my life.
She was something else.
Someone real.
And maybe… someone I wasn't ready to lose.
---
Later That Day…
I found my usual quiet spot by the back hallway window — where ivy crept up the glass and the noise of school faded like a distant song.
I pulled out my sketchbook. I didn't need to flip far.
There she was.
Ava.
Brown eyes with depth. A quiet smile. Her expression calm, but curious. Almost like she was staring back at me from the page.
I don't remember even thinking when I sketched her earlier — it had just happened. Like my pencil had a mind of its own.
"Sheesh, Damien!"
I flinched, snapped the sketchbook shut, and looked up.
"Ezra, seriously?" I said, breathing hard.
My best friend laughed like he'd just won the lottery. "Bro, relax. It's not like I walked in on you drawing hearts around her name—"
"Shut up," I muttered, stuffing the sketchbook into my backpack.
"Oh, I would shut up… if that wasn't Ava Canter you just hid in there," he said, leaning against the wall with the most dramatic smirk I'd ever seen on his face. "Tell me I'm wrong. Go ahead. I dare you."
I sighed. "It's just a sketch."
"Yeah, and I'm just a butterfly," Ezra said, fluttering his hands like wings. "Dude, you've drawn sunsets, wolves, gods, galaxies — but never a girl."
He gave me a knowing look.
"Never a real girl," he added.
I didn't reply.
"What's next? Writing poetry about her? Gonna paint a mural on the lockers with 'Ava was here'?"
I gave him a look.
He burst out laughing. "Nah, for real though. You like her, don't you?"
I hesitated. Then looked away. "I don't know."
Ezra raised a brow. "You don't know? You sketched her like you were possessed, walked her to class, held her hand like it was oxygen—"
"That wasn't on purpose," I muttered.
"But you didn't let go," he said softly. "You never let go."
I exhaled and leaned back against the wall.
"She's… different," I finally admitted. "She doesn't look at me like everyone else does. Like I'm some trophy or project or something to brag about."
Ezra nodded. "She looks at you like… you're human."
"Exactly."
There was a long pause.
Then Ezra grinned again. "So you're gonna ask her out or what?"
I narrowed my eyes. "No."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want to ruin it."
"Or maybe," he said with a shrug, "you don't want to admit it."
I groaned. "You're so annoying."
"Annoying best friend privilege," he said proudly. Then he pointed at my bag. "Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me. For now."
And just before walking off, he added with a wink:
"But if you start writing her initials in cursive with yours, I'm calling the whole school."
---