Lynn never cared much for mornings. They were slow, noisy, and always came too early. But today, she was at school by 7:45 AM, fifteen minutes earlier than she needed to be.
And it wasn't for class.
She stood near the back gate, where the breeze always felt cooler and where fewer people gathered before the morning bell. Her earbuds hung loosely from her neck. The music was off, but she kept them there to avoid small talk. It worked most days.
Not today.
Because today, she wasn't avoiding anything.
Today, she was waiting.
And when Alex finally appeared, backpack slung over one shoulder, hands in his pockets, eyes half-lidded but alert, her stomach did that annoying thing again—the twist, the flutter, the free-fall.
He spotted her instantly.
"You always show up early?" he asked, walking over like they'd done this a hundred times.
"Nope," she said. "Just today."
A small grin touched his lips. "Interesting."
They started walking toward the main building, side by side. Not touching, not talking much. Just close enough to feel the air shift between them.
"You still planning on walking me to class?" she asked after a beat.
"I said I would, didn't I?"
"People say a lot of things."
Alex glanced sideways at her. "I'm not people."
Lynn looked at him then, really looked. There was something under the cool exterior. Not pain exactly, but history. Like he'd lived through something, and it made him quieter, sharper. She found herself wanting to know every piece of it.
"I believe you," she said.
His smile was subtle, but it lit something in his eyes.
They passed through the front doors. The hallways were still half-empty—just the early risers, the overachievers, and a few couples already glued together at lockers. Lynn hated how school tried to make everyone into types. Labels. Boxes.
She and Alex didn't fit into any of those.
"Tell me something you've never told anyone," she said suddenly.
He blinked. "Right now?"
"Yeah."
Alex exhaled slowly, as if the question required more oxygen. "Alright," he said, stopping by her locker. "I have dreams where I'm drowning. Always water. Always cold. And I never wake up until it's almost too late."
Lynn blinked. That wasn't the answer she expected.
"Why?"
"No clue," he said. "Maybe I'm scared of sinking."
She paused, then leaned her shoulder against the locker. "I used to have a dream where I'd walk into a room full of people and no one would see me."
"You think that's worse?"
"No," she said, staring into him. "I think it's the same."
Something passed between them then. Like a quiet agreement. Two ghosts recognizing the way the other haunts themselves.
Before she could say more, the warning bell rang.
Alex stepped closer—not enough to cross a line, but close enough to notice the softness in his expression. "I like mornings now," he said.
"Because of me?" she teased.
"No," he said, smiling. "Because of how you look when you think I might not show up."
Her breath caught.
And then he turned, just like that, and walked toward his class.
Leaving Lynn with one hand pressed against her locker, a fire in her chest, and a realization she didn't know how to un-feel:
She wanted him to come back tomorrow.
And the next day.
And every day after.