The lecture hall was packed again, the air humming with the low chatter of students comparing notes, majors, and dorm food horror stories. I slid into my usual seat, Jason plopping down beside me like he owned the place.
"You look less like a zombie today," he said, nudging me. "Recover from that nosebleed fiasco?"
"Don't remind me," I muttered, sinking into my hoodie. Half the class had probably seen me holding tissues like a fool during PE. Great first impression.
Jason chuckled. "Hey, at least Emily noticed you. That's more progress than most guys can say."
At the sound of her name, my eyes flickered to the row ahead. She was there, casually tucking her hair behind her ear as she set her notebook down. Calm, focused, like she belonged here more than anyone else. Meanwhile, I was just existing behind her like background furniture.
But before my thoughts could spiral, another voice cut through. Smooth, confident. The kind that filled a room without trying.
"Emily, you did really well in PE yesterday. Surprised me," said Michael.
I didn't even need to look. Of course it was him. Michael leaned slightly toward her, his grin the kind you'd see in a college recruitment poster. Everything about him screamed ease—his posture, his tone, the way he seemed completely comfortable in his own skin.
Emily laughed softly, shaking her head. "I didn't do that much. It was just warm-ups."
Warm-ups. The same warm-ups that had left me wheezing like an old engine and bleeding like a bad anime gag.
Jason whispered, "Oof. That's your rival right there, man."
"Thanks for the reminder," I hissed under my breath.
Class began, mercifully cutting off their conversation. The professor launched into a rapid-fire explanation of algorithms, scribbling code on the board. I tried to focus, but every so often my eyes betrayed me, flicking forward to Emily… and sideways to Michael. The contrast was brutal. Where Michael answered questions confidently, I hesitated even to raise my hand.
By the end of the lecture, I felt like a ghost—silent, unnoticed, drifting behind the noise of louder lives.
As students packed their things, Jason stretched. "Hey, how about grabbing food at the cafeteria? I'm starving."
I nodded, grateful for the distraction. But just as we stood, Emily glanced back over her shoulder. For half a second, our eyes met.
It was nothing. Just a look. She probably wasn't even looking at me—maybe past me, or at the clock behind. But my chest tightened all the same, like that single glance had been aimed straight at me.
Jason smirked, noticing. "Ohhh. Progress. That's at least… what, 5%?"
I shoved him lightly. "Shut up."
We walked out together, and though the hallway was crowded with laughter and footsteps, something felt different. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was everything. But for the first time since stepping onto this campus, I wondered if change was actually possible.