As midterms approached, the academic pressure ramped up—test revisions were everywhere, tempers flared, and the school buzzed with intensity. Teachers moved at breakneck speed, while notebooks became absolutely essential. Scarlet found herself practically buried in her textbooks, often spending her lunch breaks with her head buried in notes, mumbling chemical equations as Amara kept reminding her to take a breath.
Amid all this chaos, some things were still loud in their silence, like the growing tension between Rudd and Scarlet. It wasn't awkward anymore; it felt charged, as if something unspoken was gradually echoing between them.
That Wednesday, during prep, the rain began to pour—not that gentle drizzle, but a downpour that blurred the windows and turned the whole school into a mix of wet sand and chalk dust. It cast a dim, oddly calm mood that made everyone hush, speaking softly or just opting for silence.
Scarlet sat at her desk, a blue pen clenched between her teeth, pretending to read her government textbook. Yet, her gaze wandered too often to the boy by the window—Rudd, lost in his sketches again in that tattered notebook. She couldn't help but notice that he only ever drew during storms.
"You should come out of your shell a little," Amara whispered playfully next to her. "Talk to him already. Before someone else does."
Scarlet rolled her eyes. "I have," she replied, trying not to show how her patience was wearing thin.
Almost like clockwork, Dapo burst into the room, his voice loud and confident, cutting through the quiet. He had just gotten a fresh haircut, his uniform half-buttoned, and he carried that effortless charm that made even the strictest teachers pause before reprimanding. He strolled in, soaking wet from the rain but grinning as if it was all part of a show.
"Rain challenged me, but I fought back," he joked to nobody in particular, running a hand through his damp hair.
The class laughed.
Scarlet didn't share in the laughter, but she did notice how the moment Dapo walked in, the atmosphere shifted. He had a gravitational pull. Kiki immediately waved him over. Sandra rolled her eyes. Even Gab, who happened to be passing by the door, paused for a heartbeat before moving on.
Rudd didn't look up. Not once. But Scarlet saw his hand stop for a moment over the paper before he resumed drawing.
Later that day, during an extended break, Scarlet slipped out of class alone. The rain had stopped, leaving behind puddles and that peculiar calm that lingers after a storm. She wandered to the block behind the labs—a quiet little spot where seniors rarely went.
Settling under the ledge, she took out her phone and started scrolling, feeling contemplative in that fresh air.
She didn't hear footsteps until it was too late.
"Found your secret spot," Dapo said, flashing that familiar smile again.
Scarlet blinked. "Were you following me?"
"Let's just say I have a good sense of direction."
She laughed despite herself. He had a knack for sneaking past her defenses, and it was surprisingly annoying.
They chatted about nothing serious—music, school stress, and that one teacher who always smelled like antiseptic. The conversation was light, but he kept looking at her in a way that felt like he was filing away memories. And for the first time, Scarlet didn't mind.
But then the story took a turn two days later.
Scarlet and Rudd were paired up for a chemistry practical—of all things. It felt almost unfair.
At first, the table was quiet. Rudd, wearing gloves, was meticulous with his movements. Scarlet wrote down headings and data, waiting for him to say something—anything.
"You forgot to adjust the burette," he finally said in a low voice.
She did. Her hands fumbled a bit.
He just helped her without making a fuss about it, adjusting the burette and returning to his own work. Still quiet, still distant—but not unkind.
"Something's off with you lately," she finally said, not making eye contact.
Rudd hesitated for a moment. "Am I?"
"You are."
Finally, he looked at her properly for the first time in days. "Maybe I just don't want to blend in with everyone else."
"Everyone else talks," Scarlet pointed out.
He smiled, just a little. "Maybe I have my own way of talking."
They locked eyes a bit too long before Kiki's voice broke the moment. She was waving from across the lab, mouthing something about Dapo.
Scarlet turned back to her work, and Rudd quietly returned to the experiment.
That following Monday, the classroom was buzzing with rumors—apparently, a senior had been caught selling school supplies. The administration was furious, and tension spread through the school like wildfire. Phones were checked, bags were searched, and some students were pulled out for questioning.
Rudd noticed Scarlet was unusually quiet.
He passed her a note during English class.
"You okay?"
Scarlet stared at it for a moment before scribbling back.
"Yes. Just observing."
Rudd read her reply and didn't answer. But throughout the rest of class, he caught her gaze more than usual.
Later, Scarlet overheard Gab threatening a junior behind the taps by the JSS block, something about stealing exam questions. The junior's voice shook.
Scarlet didn't intervene, but she made a mental note. Gab had been too quiet lately, and something felt like it was about to boil over.
As she made her way back to class, Dapo joined her.
"You always look like you're calculating something," he remarked.
She shrugged. "Maybe I am."
"I like that," he said, his tone straightforward.
Scarlet gave a half-smile. "Be careful. I'm not always sweet."
"I'm not always nice," he retorted.
Neither of them noticed Rudd lurking at the end of the corridor, watching. Or maybe they did—and just chose not to acknowledge it.
By evening prep, the rain started again.
And for the first time in weeks, Rudd didn't draw. He sat by the window, lost in thought.
Something was shifting. Lines were being drawn. Deep down, he knew—if he didn't speak up soon, someone else would start writing his story for him.