"So… what are you wearing?" Zoey asked with the most devilish grin the moment I sat down for lunch.
I blinked. "Wearing for what?"
Lily nearly choked on her water. "Don't play dumb, Annie. Austin's house. The project. The romantic setup waiting to happen."
I rolled my eyes. "It's just schoolwork."
"Yes," Zoey said dramatically. "Schoolwork in a mansion, with your academic nemesis who now stares at you like you're the last slice of cake."
"You're exaggerating."
Lily leaned in. "So, jeans or a dress?"
"Sweats," I replied.
"Annie!"
I sighed, tired of their matchmaking fantasy. "I'm going to dress how I always dress. I'm not showing up in heels and lip gloss to write a poem."
"You're hopeless," Zoey muttered.
"Thank you," I said with a sweet smile.
---
Austin texted the address, and by 4:00 p.m., I was standing outside what I could only describe as a mini-mansion. Tall gates. A winding driveway. Lush gardens.
I should've been surprised — but I wasn't.
I lived in a house just as big. Maybe even bigger. The difference was: his felt lived in. Mine just… existed. A hollow structure filled with silence. My parents were hardly ever around.
He opened the door with a casual smile. "Hey. Come on in — figured we could work out there. It's quiet."
I followed him past polished floors and soft jazz playing faintly in the background. The garden house was like something from a fairy tale — glass walls, blooming flowers, cozy couches, and a breeze that smelled like citrus and pine.
"I'll go grab my notes," he said. "Make yourself comfortable."
The moment he left, I exhaled.
It was beautiful. Peaceful.
I wandered over to a patch of jasmine and roses, breathing in the scent. Something stirred inside me — something soft. Melancholy. Hopeful.
Then, almost without thinking, I began to sing.
A slow, haunting melody. A song I'd written years ago when everything felt like it was falling apart. It floated through the garden, wrapping around the petals and the breeze.
When I stopped, I turned — and jumped.
Austin was standing there. Books in hand. Eyes wide.
He wasn't just watching. He was stunned.
"You sing," he said, voice barely above a whisper.
I cleared my throat, suddenly self-conscious. "You… weren't supposed to hear that."
"Too late. You're incredible."
I stared. He stared back.
Three seconds of stillness. Three seconds too long.
We were snapped back to reality as his books fell to the ground, We blinked. The moment vanished.
---
This time, we worked without arguing.
For thirty whole minutes.
No sarcasm. No eye rolls. Just… harmony.
We edited the poem line by line, building off each other's thoughts. He'd offer a phrase, and I'd shape it into rhythm. I'd propose an emotion, and he'd ground it in imagery.
It was effortless.
Then he leaned back and asked, "Can I ask you something personal?"
I looked up. "Sure."
He tapped his pen. "Why are you always so… hidden?"
I hesitated. "I guess I just got used to keeping to myself. I thought if I stayed invisible, I wouldn't get hurt. Or cause trouble."
He waited.
So I continued.
"My parents used to fight. A lot. Loud enough for the neighbors. One day, it exploded. My mom left with my sister. I stayed with Dad. Since then, I just… keep my head down."
Austin's expression softened. "I'm sorry."
"What about you?" I asked. "You walk around like you've got this invisible wall. Always busy. Always fine. But are you?"
He let out a soft laugh. "Guess we're more alike than we thought. My dad's hardly ever around. My mom left early. I don't even remember her face. I guess being alone is just easier."
Silence. Comfortable this time.
Then he stood. "Come on. You need the full tour."
---
We wandered the halls. He showed me the music room, the pool, his mini art studio.
We sang, danced like fools to throwback songs, played chess and got competitive over Uno.
At one point, we both reached for a card at the same time — our hands brushed.
Neither of us pulled away.
He looked up at me.
"You're really beautiful, you know that?" he said.
I froze.
His voice was soft, sincere. And suddenly the air between us felt like a thread pulled tight.
We just stood there — eyes locked — five seconds, maybe more.
Then the maid entered with a tray.
"Food's ready," she said politely.
We jumped apart.
---
We ate too quickly. Avoided eye contact. Pretended nothing had happened.
Then we went back to the garden house and worked until the sun dipped low.
When it was time to leave, I packed up slowly.
"Thanks," I said at the door.
He smiled. "See you at school."
There was a pause.
I thought he was going to hug me.
He looked like he was going to hug me.
Then — handshake.
I laughed all the way to the gate.
---
That night, I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling.
His voice. His eyes. That garden.
That spark.
I soon realised I was blushing and then it hit me
Had I truly fallen in love?