THE FIRST GLANCE,
I noticed her before I knew her name.
Malvina.
She was leaning against the brick wall outside the science building, hair catching the late afternoon light like it had been made to steal stares. Her friends laughed about something, but she didn't she just watched the smoke curl from her lips, slow and deliberate, as if the world existed to be inhaled and exhaled at her pace.
I wasn't supposed to be looking. I knew that. The hallway door was still swinging shut behind me, and I had a basketball under my arm, sweaty from practice, but my feet didn't move. I just… stopped.
And then she looked at me.
Not glanced. Not flicked her eyes over. Looked. The kind of look that makes your chest pull tight and your pulse skip, like she'd just caught you in something you weren't ready to confess.
I'd been around enough people to know when someone's gaze had weight. Hers pressed in slow, measured and then, just as my throat started to dry, she smirked.
God, that smirk.
I shifted my grip on the ball, cleared my throat, and forced my legs to keep walking. Except my shoulder brushed hers when I passed, and I swear she leaned just enough for it to happen. My skin still tingled three steps later and at that moment it clocked to me
"Raelyn you're not a lesbian, so stop those hands from shivering and walk straight, girl."
---
That night, I told myself I wasn't going to think about her again. I was wrong.
The next morning, she was in my spot.
I'd claimed that bench outside the gym at the start of sophomore year quiet corner, best view of the courtyard, perfect for pretending to do homework while watching the chaos of other people's lives. But there she was, sitting cross-legged on it like it belonged to her, earphones in, one hand flipping a pen between her fingers.
I hovered for half a second, debating whether to find somewhere else, but my pride won.
"Hey. You're in my seat."
She slid one earbud out, glancing at me like I'd just spoken a language she didn't care to learn.
"Didn't see your name on it."
The way she said it wasn't mean, but it had teeth.
I tilted my head, trying to read her. "Guess I'll write it next time."
That smirk again sharper now, like she was letting me know she'd seen right through me.
"Raelyn, right?" she said.
Hearing my name in her mouth was strange like it didn't belong to me anymore. "Yeah. And you're…?"
"Malvina."
I let the name roll in my head once, twice. It was too pretty for me to say without giving away how much I liked it, so I just nodded and sat down beside her like I owned the other half of the bench. She didn't move over.
We stayed like that, elbows close, her music bleeding faintly from her earbud. I didn't know the song, but it was low and slow, the kind of thing that made you want to lean back and let your thoughts get dangerous.
---
It was easy to pretend I wasn't looking at her when she wasn't looking at me. But she caught me once eyes flicking up mid-scribble and instead of calling me out, she held my gaze for a beat too long. It wasn't just looking. It was knowing.
The bell rang, too loud, snapping the moment in half. She gathered her things without a word, leaving behind a faint trace of cigarette smoke and vanilla lotion. I didn't move until she disappeared into the crowd.
---
That night, lying in bed with the fan humming overhead, I realized something that made my stomach twist:
Malvina wasn't just interesting. She was the kind of interesting that could ruin me.
And for the first time in a long time, I didn't care.
---
I told myself I wasn't going to care if I saw her again. I didn't even make it past lunch.
The courtyard was loud, everyone in little knots of conversation, tossing fries at each other, yelling across tables. I was halfway through my sandwich when I spotted her alone this time at the far end under the big elm, one leg pulled up on the bench, notebook open. Her pen moved like she was writing for herself, not for anyone who'd ever read it.
I don't remember deciding to walk over. One second I was chewing; the next, my shadow was falling over her page. She didn't look up right away. Just kept writing until her sentence ended, then closed the notebook with a slow, deliberate snap.
"You're following me now?" she asked, but there was no heat to it just that lazy curiosity, like she was trying to figure out what kind of game I thought I was playing.
"Maybe I like this seat too."
"You really don't own many seats, do you?"
I grinned, and she looked at me then, really looked, eyes darker than I remembered from yesterday. Or maybe it was just the shade. "You smoke at lunch too?" I asked, nodding to the pack beside her.
Her lips curved, but she didn't answer. She just slid the pack toward me like an invitation. I shook my head. "Not my thing."
"Then why notice?"
The way she asked it made my stomach tighten, I didn't have a safe answer. I shrugged, sat down across from her. "Guess I notice things."
She leaned back, balancing on the bench like she could stay there forever if she wanted. "Like what?"
"You," slipped out before I could think better of it.
The pause that followed felt heavier than it should have. Malvina's gaze dipped to my hands on the table, then back to my face, like she was checking for the joke. When she didn't find one, she smiled not a smirk this time, but something slower, more dangerous.
The air between us felt charged, like the moment before a summer storm.
Someone at the far end of the courtyard shouted her name, breaking it. She didn't turn. Just kept her eyes on me until the voice called again, sharper. "Guess that's my cue," she murmured, standing in one fluid motion.
As she walked away, she glanced over her shoulder once, not long enough to catch me staring, but long enough to make sure I knew she'd left me wanting more.
---
That night, I replayed it all in my head while staring at the ceiling. The way she'd asked why I noticed. The way she'd said my name like it was hers to keep.
It should have been harmless. Just a stranger with good hair and sharper eyes. But something about her stuck in the cracks of my thoughts, catching there every time I tried to think about anything else.
And under it all, there was this strange, quiet certainty like knowing the weather's going to break before the sky even clouds over. I didn't know what was coming, but I knew Malvina would be the start of it.