Esa nodded, his eyes fixed on the tip of Nazma's pencil.
"Oh, so the key is in this straight line, huh? No wonder my results were a mess earlier."
"Yes," Nazma answered. "Focus on that part first," she added.
"Crazy, Naz," Celline commented. "You explain it for just a minute and it goes straight to the brain."
Laughter broke out in the crowd.
The atmosphere around Nazma's desk instantly thawed.
Whispers began to spread among them. Several students compared their own books with Nazma's.
The classroom atmosphere slowly returned to its axis. Some students began to disperse from Nazma's desk.
The human barricade that had been blocking the window light finally collapsed, leaving a fresh draft of air for Nazma to breathe.
Zemiro remained motionless. He only moved his fingers, twirling his pen with a very precise rhythm between his index and middle fingers. "Ten minutes and thirty-two seconds."
Zemiro straightened his posture, adjusting his back which was beginning to feel stiff.
His eyes caught the figure of Nazma, who was tidying her messy hair.
Fatigue was visible on her face. The spark of happiness in her eyes glowed even brighter.
Zemiro tilted his head slightly.
Nazma's smile was a variable he found most difficult to translate into logic. Completely irrational. For some reason, the sensors in his head refused to look away.
Dirga leaned back. His book was wide open. Dirga glanced at the tip of Zemiro's pen, which was still spinning.
Zemiro's gaze remained locked. Straight. Focused on Nazma's every small movement. From a distance.
Dirga flashed a thin smile. He cleared his throat. Breaking the silence between them.
Dirga understood what was happening. He swallowed the words he wanted to say. This rare sight beside him was not to be missed.
"So focused, Miro. Are you calculating the expansion coefficient or waiting for the 'main unit' to finish serving the masses?" Dirga teased.
Zemiro's fingers suddenly stopped twirling the pen.
"The visual data was compromised," Zemiro replied coldly. "The crowd earlier only ruined the accuracy of the observation."
Dirga laughed soundlessly. He returned his gaze to his book. Occasionally stealing a glance at Zemiro's eyes, which were still watching Nazma.
In the distance, Nazma was tidying her scattered books. Her movements seemed a bit rushed, contrasting with the calm rhythm she usually showed when drawing sketches.
How long has it been since I last looked at him? It feels like there's a magnet constantly pulling my head to turn.
Just once. I only want to make sure he's still there. Behind his neat wooden desk. What is he doing, I wonder?
Her head turned. Stealing a glance as she usually did. With the smoothest movement she could manage. However, as luck would have it. Her eyes crashed directly into that person. Zemiro was there. Right at nine o'clock. Zemiro was staring at Nazma intently.
Nazma quickly looked away. Pretending to hold a paper. Making use of the stack of papers in front of her.
Damn it. Her cheeks turned a deep crimson.
Dirga looked back at Zemiro, finding that his best friend had also just been caught red-handed staring in the same direction. The smile on Dirga's lips grew wider. His mischievous aura was greatly disturbing Zemiro's composure.
Zemiro immediately adjusted his sitting position. Shifting the awkwardness that began to creep in.
"Hey, I saw your social media status," Zemiro said in his deep, masculine voice, trying to divert Dirga's focus as quickly as possible.
Celline's elbow nudged Nazma's arm. The smile on Celline's face looked very suspicious.
"Naz," Celline whispered. Her volume was loud enough to be heard by the friends around them. "You like Zemiro, don't you?"
As if struck by a spear, Nazma's eyes widened. "No," she gasped, her breath hitching.
Celline giggled, "Ooh, someone's blushing."