Today was just like any other day — or at least, I thought it would be.
I walked into class a little early, hoping for some quiet time before everyone else showed up. As I stepped inside, I noticed someone was already there.
A girl.
She sat in the middle row, her back straight, fingers lightly gripping the edge of the desk. Her hair was long and dark brown, slightly wavy at the ends, catching the morning light like strands of melted chocolate. A few soft strands framed her face gently, giving her an almost effortless elegance.
Her skin was a smooth, warm almond tone — glowing in a way that didn't need makeup or sunlight. She had big, expressive eyes, deep hazel with golden flecks, the kind of eyes that seemed to hold entire conversations without saying a word. They were full of thought, maybe a little anxiety… but also something curious, alive.
Her nose was small and graceful, with a slight upward curve that added a touch of innocence to her otherwise mature features. Her lips were soft and naturally pink, not too full, but with a subtle curve that made it look like she was always seconds away from smiling — or saying something clever.
She had this quiet presence — like someone who didn't need to fight for attention, yet somehow commanded it anyway.
And when she looked up and met my eyes… I froze for a second.
She was beautiful. Not in the loud, obvious way.
But in a way that stays with you long after you've stopped looking.
I tried not to stare, but she was… different. Not like most people I've seen here. She had this warm, open presence — the kind that feels like sunlight after a long storm. I walked past her and quietly took the seat next to her. I could feel her eyes on me. I didn't mind.
"Hi! My name's Ava. Ava Canter," she said, voice bright and open.
I turned to her and smiled. "Hello. My name is Damien."
She reached out her hand, and I shook it — her grip was light, but there was confidence in her voice. I don't usually pay attention to new students, but something about her felt… real. Not forced. Not fake.
As more students came in, I greeted a few people, but my mind kept drifting back to Ava. Even when the teacher walked in, I couldn't help but glance sideways.
---
Lunchtime came. I didn't really feel like joining the crowd in the cafeteria. I never do. It's loud, busy, too much. So I went to my usual spot in the hallway and pulled out my sketchbook.
But this time, I didn't draw the trees or the school or the sky.
I drew her.
Ava.
I didn't even think about it. My pencil just moved on its own. Her eyes, the way her hair fell over her shoulder, that soft, curious expression on her face. I'd never drawn a girl before — not in this sketchbook, not ever. But today, I did. And it didn't feel weird. It felt… right.
I was still adding light shading to the corner of her smile when I heard footsteps. Then I felt her presence again.
Ava.
She sat beside me, just like that.
Before I could speak, she said, "Hi, remember? I'm Ava. I just transferred here. I don't know many people yet, but I hope I can be your friend."
Friend?
I quickly closed my sketchbook. I didn't want her to see the drawing. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
I smiled gently. "Oh, I still remember you." I paused. "I always draw beautiful things in my sketchbook so I can keep them with me forever."
And I meant that.
She paused for a second. Then I asked, "Tell me more about yourself."
She gave a soft laugh. "Well, I just transferred. My mother is a news reporter and she got transferred recently. My father died when I was 5 and I lived in Arizona before. I like reading and I'm not really good at mathematics."
That last part made me smile, but the part about her dad stayed with me. She said it so simply, but I could hear the strength underneath. I watched her speak, the way her eyes moved, the quiet weight of her words.
I wanted to sketch her again — not just how she looked, but how she made me feel.
Then the bell rang.
She stood up fast, almost as if she'd been startled. "Bye, I hope to meet you soon Damien."
She walked off, and I sat there, her voice echoing in my head.
I opened the sketchbook again.
And stared at her face on the page.
Yeah… I was definitely thinking too much.
Or maybe…
She really is making me fall for her.