Sam's POV
The morning sun spilled through the classroom windows, highlighting the dust motes that danced lazily in the beams. I sat at my usual spot by the window, notebook tucked under my arm, scanning the crowded room for the faintest hint of calm.
It wasn't there. Not really.
Liam Fernandez was already there, leaning casually against the edge of the teacher's desk, arms folded, eyes scanning the classroom like he owned it. My pulse quickened despite myself. Every time he appeared, it was like the air itself shifted — heavier, warmer, unpredictable.
"Morning," he said, voice low, almost a challenge.
I arched an eyebrow. "Morning. You're late again."
He smirked. "Traffic."
I scoffed. "Really? Because I saw you leaning against the fence, pretending to read a book. Not exactly rush-hour material, Liam."
He tilted his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Ah, but I was strategizing. The perfect way to avoid the chaos in here."
I laughed softly, though my heart skipped a beat. "Chaos is unavoidable. You should know that by now."
He pushed off the desk, moving closer. "Maybe you like a little chaos."
"Maybe I like a little honesty," I shot back, smirking.
The words hung in the air, and for a moment, there was silence — thick, electric. The kind that made every little sound in the classroom feel amplified: the scratch of a pencil, the creak of a chair, the soft hum of the radiator.
Later — During Group Work
The teacher had assigned a small project, pairing students together. By chance — or fate — Me and Liam ended up side by side.
I tried to ignore the way his presence seemed to press against my awareness. I wrote notes quickly, fingers tapping against the table, eyes darting to see if he was paying attention to the task or… something else.
"I don't see why we need to color-code these charts," I muttered under my breath, glancing at the colorful sheets scattered between us.
Liam leaned over. "Because it makes it easier to understand the patterns. You know, like someone who actually reads instructions."
"Oh, right. Because you're such a stickler for rules."
"And you're such a rebel for ignoring them," he countered, eyes glinting with amusement.
I snorted. "Maybe I just like to do things my way."
"Or maybe you just like to annoy me," he said lightly.
The corner of my mouth twitched upward despite my effort to remain serious. "I could say the same about you."
"You're impossible," he said, shaking his head, though a smile tugged at his lips.
"And you love it," I replied, voice teasing.
At one point, our elbows accidentally brushed while reaching for the same pen. The contact sent a jolt through me, one that had nothing to do with electricity and everything to do with the sharp awareness of Liam's nearness. I pulled back quickly, cheeks warming.
"You're flinching," he observed. "What's that about?"
"Nothing," I muttered, my eyes fixed on the notebook.
"Right." He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "It doesn't look like nothing."
My pen slipped slightly, spilling ink across my notes. I cursed softly.
"You're hopeless," Liam said, reaching to help. But his hand lingered near mine, and for a brief moment, our fingers brushed. Both of us froze.
My face burned. "I said nothing," I murmured, snatching my pen back.
"You said nothing," he echoed, a hint of a grin playing at the corner of his mouth.
The tension between us crackled like a live wire — sharp, dangerous, yet somehow exhilarating.
Lunch Break
By lunch, I found myself walking to the courtyard alone, notebook clutched tightly. I hoped for a quiet corner, away from the prying eyes of classmates.
Of course, Liam had other plans.
"Mind if I join you?" he asked, sliding onto the bench beside me without waiting for an answer.
I blinked. "I wasn't—"
"—asking?" he finished for me, smirking.
I sighed but didn't push him away. "I like quiet."
"Me too," he said softly, looking out at the trees swaying in the breeze. "Mostly."
The silence stretched, but it wasn't heavy. Not with Liam there.
Then, without warning, he nudged my shoulder playfully. "So, what's in the notebook? Something dramatic, I hope."
My gaze snapped to him. "Dramatic? Me? Never."
He raised an eyebrow. "Don't lie. I saw your scribbles yesterday. You're hiding something."
My lips curved into a reluctant smile. "Maybe I am."
"Maybe I like that about you," he said, voice softer now, almost inaudible.
My heart stuttered. I wanted to roll my eyes, wanted to argue, but instead I laughed — a short, nervous laugh that carried warmth and tension all at once.
"See?" Liam said, nudging me again. "I knew you'd admit it eventually."
"You're ridiculous," I said, though I didn't stop smiling.
"Maybe I am," he agreed. "But maybe you secretly like it."
"Secretly?" I repeated, my eyes narrowing.
He leaned back, smirk returning. "Shh… it's a secret."
And just like that, the sharp edges of our argument softened, replaced with a warmth that neither of us wanted to name.
Afternoon Classes
By the time afternoon rolled around, the small sparks between us had begun to burn quietly, carefully, under the surface of normal conversation.
During math, I found myself glancing at Liam more often than I intended. He doodled absentmindedly in his notebook, unaware of my scrutiny. I noticed the way his brow furrowed when he concentrated, the slight twitch of his jaw when he didn't get a problem right the first time.
When the teacher called on him to solve an equation on the board, my stomach did a small flip. He answered correctly, of course, but with a careless shrug, as if it didn't matter.
"You make it look too easy," I muttered quietly.
"You're just watching too much," he replied, smirk curling.
After School — Courtyard
By the time the final bell rang, the courtyard was bathed in warm afternoon light. Me and Liam found ourselves lingering, neither wanting to leave just yet.
"You know," Liam began, leaning against the railing, "I didn't think we'd actually talk without it ending in an argument."
I raised an eyebrow. "You didn't?"
"Nope. Thought we'd just glare at each other for the rest of the semester."
"Glad to surprise you, then," I said, shoving my hands into my pockets.
He chuckled. "Yeah… me too."
There was a pause, filled only by the distant laughter of other students and the faint rustle of leaves.
"Maybe," I said softly, "maybe we're not so bad together."
Liam's grin was slow, knowing, teasing. "Maybe we are."
We both laughed, and for the first time in weeks, the tension didn't sting. It softened into something like understanding, fragile but promising.
The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the courtyard. I tucked my notebook under my arm, feeling the weight of it — not as a burden, but as a companion.
And Liam — standing beside me, quiet but present — felt something shift too. Something unspoken, delicate, a spark that might grow into warmth if tended carefully.
For now, that was enough