"Okay. This is it," I mumbled to myself as I stood right in front of the school gate. Bradford International Academy! Here goes nothing.
I took a deep breath, clutching the strap of my bag tightly, gathering as much confidence as I had before stepping through the gates.
As I made my way toward the main building, the scent of freshly cut grass mixed with the warm aroma of bread drifted from the cafeteria. To my left, the open courtyard sprawled out, lined with trees and benches where a few early students were already seated—some sipping coffee, others glued to their phones. On my right, the soccer field was alive with movement, a few players jogging as their jerseys flapped in the breeze, their cleats tapping softly against the ground.
The main building towered ahead, modern and sleek with glass-paneled sides reflecting the sky. Flowerbeds lined the walkway, pink and white in full bloom, their petals dancing slightly in the breeze. I passed by a bulletin board cluttered with club posters and lost ID announcements, barely registering the bold, colorful fonts as my eyes scanned the crowd.
Is he here? Could he be nearby? I thought to myself.
Somewhere in this crowd might be Ethan Sinclair. The reason I transferred. The reason I was trying not to bolt straight back home.
Yes. That's right. I transferred schools. And yes. I know. The reason is petty. It doesn't even make sense to most people. But for me, this feels like the right thing to do. It has been a month since I met him, but I still remember him perfectly the first and only time we met.
He had that quiet-boy charm—clean-cut but effortlessly cool. Dressed in a simple black hoodie with an angsty bunny patch, he looked like the type who preferred staying in the background but always caught attention anyway. His dark hair falling naturally over his forehead, slightly tousled like he'd just run his hand through it in thought.
His profile was sharp under the warm restaurant lighting, with soft but defined features that hinted at both youth and depth. That was the kind of face that could pull off mischief or melancholy with just a tilt of his head. He didn't need to say much... his presence spoke for him.
He looked like someone's crush. Or maybe everyone's.
Which is why I just could not get him out of my head. From that day onwards, I have decided that I will do whatever it takes to meet him again. I will do whatever it takes to get closer to him.
And this?
This is just the start.
My steps slowed as I reached the main entrance. Just as I pulled out my student ID to check the map—
Thud.
I bumped into someone, hard.
"Whoa. Careful," a voice said, smooth and amused.
I looked up. He was tall, with cat-like Asian eyes, broad-shouldered, with pale skin, and dressed in a green and white soccer jersey. Beads of sweat clung to his forehead beneath windswept black hair, and his fingers still held a water bottle like he'd just come from practice.
"S-Sorry! I wasn't paying attention," I stammered.
He chuckled, stepping back to give me space. "It's okay," he chuckled. A tiny dimple appeared next to the corners of his mouth. "Hey. You don't look familiar. Are you new here?"
"Is it that obvious?" I said with a shy smile, brushing imaginary dust off my skirt.
He tilted his head with a grin. "I'm Kevin, by the way," he said, smiling as he offered his hand for a handshake. I was just about to take it and introduce myself when a voice down the hallway called out his name.
"Anyway, I'll see you around!" he said with a lazy wave before running off, disappearing into the crowd, leaving me standing there with a flutter in my chest.
Heat rose to my cheeks. I was left astounded. He was pretty cute. Are all the boys who go here such cuties?
It took a while for me to shrug that thought off. I have to stay focused. That wasn't Ethan. I must not get distracted.
I continued exploring the halls until I finally managed to find my homeroom class tucked quietly at the end of the third-floor corridor. My heart thudded a little faster as I stood outside the door, adjusting the strap of my bag and taking one last deep breath before stepping inside.
The moment I walked in, a dozen heads turned. The room was already buzzing with chatter—some students leaning over desks in conversation, others glued to their phones. There was also a group somewhere at the back putting on makeup on their faces. A few glanced at me briefly before returning to whatever they were doing. I scanned the room, trying to look unfazed.
As I made my way to an empty desk in the middle row, I couldn't help scanning the room, their faces blurred together until one caught my attention. A familiar figure sat by the window, facing away. My heart skipped. Was that… him?
I shook the thought off quickly. No, it couldn't be. But what if it is? How lucky am I to be in the same class as him? If it was him by the window, then one thing is for sure... this is the best decision I've ever made in my life.
I slid into my seat quietly, trying to seem composed, but inside, I was already counting the minutes until the next hallway break, just in case I'd catch a glimpse of him again.
The minutes ticked by slowly. My gaze drifted to the window, where a gentle breeze nudged the tree branches outside. Just as I started to relax, the door creaked open. Heads turned, and mine followed instinctively.
He walked in.
Wearing the same soccer jacket I had seen earlier, his messy hair, milky porcelain skin, and that easygoing energy that made it feel like he belonged here without a doubt.
Kevin.
His eyes scanned the room, and when they landed on me, he gave a slight nod and a crooked smile, like we were already in on some secret. He took the empty seat diagonally in front of mine, dropped his bag with a thud, and leaned back.
I blinked, unsure if it was a coincidence or fate.
He's in my homeroom class.
The realization hit me like a quiet wave, warm and strange. Somehow, I felt a sigh of relief knowing there is already a familiar face for me in this class. Although I don't really know how to approach him first. We didn't really have a proper conversation from earlier. Does he even remember me? The girl who bumped into him like a lost goat a few minutes ago?
The teacher entered shortly after, and the room gradually settled. Kevin sat up straighter, pulling out a pen and lazily twirling it between his fingers. A few girls from the front row turned around, whispering and giggling as they looked his way. The ones at the back did the same. I didn't blame them. Like I said earlier, he was pretty cute. He reminds me of those guy idols from K-pop groups that have been widely popular nowadays.
But to my surprise… he nodded at me.
I caught myself smiling at the thought before quickly wiping it off my face.
Focus.
This wasn't the time to daydream. I was here for a reason-- to get closer to Ethan. I should not be distracted by anything else.
Oh.. and to get a fresh start and do good, of course.
My pen hovered over the page as the teacher began taking attendance. When she called his name—"Kevin Yoo," he raised his hand with a half-smile and a lazy "Here."
Yoo.
Now I knew his last name.
I slouched slightly in my seat, pulling out my notebook and pretending to listen to the teacher's discussion. My fingers tapped lightly against the desk-- an attempt to distract myself from the weird fluttering in my chest.
Not because of Kevin.
Definitely not because of Kevin.
I let out a slow breath and turned my gaze toward the window again.
That's when I saw him. My eyes widened, and my heartbeat sped up faster than normal. I could feel my hands shaking.
Outside, sitting on a bench underneath a tree, was him—the reason I transferred schools in the first place. The exact person I have not been able to get out of my mind for weeks.
Tall. Calm. Effortlessly cool in the most natural way, exactly as I remembered him.
He didn't see me, of course. But my heart still did that ridiculous thing where it skipped a beat before catching up again.
I sat back, heat rushing to my ears. This school suddenly felt bigger, more alive, and more terrifying than it had just minutes ago.
But I was here.
For him. For me. For a new start.
And maybe, just maybe, for the story, I didn't know I was about to live.