I thought my second day at school would be as peaceful as the first. But nah—peace? That's not what the universe had in mind.
After two or three periods of pure torture—surviving Chemistry equations and Physics inventions that sounded so "revolutionary" but honestly felt like death—I was already drained.
That's when the Principal's daughter leaned over to me with her mischievous grin.
"Hi, Kriti," she said, "there are so many people in this class. Why don't we just… find a boyfriend for you?"
I blinked. "Excuse me? What?"
She smirked. "Yeah, tell me your type."
I rolled my eyes. "I don't have a type. I just want someone taller than me, so I can wear heels without guilt."
That was enough fuel for her matchmaking madness. She started pointing around the class.
"Him? Him? Or maybe Seth? You and Seth would be cute—"
"No. No. No." I was shutting every option down like a professional bouncer at a club.
And then—the door opened.
A boy walked in. Easily 6'2". Black hair. Black eyes. Strong specs. A full beard.
I cringed immediately. "Ew. Him? Just look at him."
She raised an eyebrow. "You don't like him? He's one of the most popular guys in this school."
I snorted. "That guy? Please. Look at him."
But fate wasn't done messing with me. Because in the next painting class, guess who was standing there too?
Yup. Mr. Popular himself.
The Principal's daughter, enjoying every second of my discomfort, introduced us. "Kriti, meet him. He's a photographer. A musician. Guitarist. Singer. A… vegan"
"Vegan? What's that supposed to mean?" I whispered, already lost.
She shrugged, "I think… like people who don't drink milk?"
Before I could process that nonsense, he smiled faintly. "I'm an atheist too."
My brain: Okay???
He launched into this long lecture about atheism, music, and how Oreos were vegan.
"See," he said confidently, "Oreo doesn't contain milk. It's vegan."
I pulled out the packet and flipped it over. "Excuse me, sir, but it literally says may contain milk or milk products right here."
He waved me off like some TEDx speaker. "That's just to confuse people. Trust me."
I stared at him. "I'm not even vegan. Why do I care?"
But instead of debating forever, I sighed. "Okay, fine, you win. Happy?"
He smirked. "Always."
Days later, our teacher announced a group painting project.
That's when I realized how dangerous proximity could feel. He stood so close to me I could barely see the space between us. My hands shook. My heart raced—not love, not exactly—but some strange electricity I couldn't name.
He leaned over my canvas, smirking. "You're doing it wrong."
I glared. "I'm not. I'm correct."
"You're always correct, aren't you?" he teased, eyes glinting. "Please, Kriti, just promise me one thing—when it matters, take the right decision."
My stomach flipped. What was that supposed to mean?
Thankfully, my friend swooped in like a superhero, sliding between us. "Sooo… who wants snacks?" she said, killing the tension.
Bless her soul.
Another day, we played chess. Just the two of us.
I lost the first two games miserably. By the third one, I was determined. "This time I'm winning," I muttered, moving my knight like a general at war.
And I was about to win. He even looked impressed, about to say something when—
A boy popped his head in. "Hey, she just left the building."
Immediately, Mr. Popular's face changed. He shot up. "Sorry, Kriti, I've got something important." And he rushed out without a second glance.
I froze. Important? To who?
For a second, I thought—he must have someone. A girl. Someone who made him run like that. But wasn't he a flirt? Someone like him couldn't possibly… right?
I sat alone in that silent room, gathering the scattered chess pieces one by one. No explanations. No closure.
One afternoon, while we were sitting near the window, Di suddenly leaned close to me, her voice lowered as if she was about to spill national secrets.
"You know," she said with a grin, "I once had a crush on him."
My eyes widened. "Wait—him? Seriously? What happened?"
She laughed, covering her face with her hands. "So I told him, 'Isn't the moon beautiful?' You know what that means, right?"
Of course I did. It wasn't about the moon. It was the oldest, softest way of saying I like you.
But then she mimicked his reply, rolling her eyes. "He just went, 'The moon isn't even pretty. It's full of circles, ugly scars, holes, and all that."
I blinked. "That's how he responded?"
"Yes!" she burst out laughing, shaking her head. "Indirect rejection at its finest. Who does that? Rejecting someone while giving a science lecture about craters?!"
She found it hilarious, and maybe it was. Getting rejected by a mysterious boy like him—somehow it didn't sting. It just turned into one of those stories you laugh about later, because only someone like him could ruin a confession with astronomy.
Another time, he leaned in casually and said, "You know, I can do black magic on you."
I raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"
"I have your hair." His tone was playful, but it still sent a shiver down my spine.
I smirked back. "Hair's nothing. The real power comes from blood. Or skin."
His eyes sparkled. "Okay, then give me your hand."
Without thinking, I stretched it out.
He held it gently, then laughed. "Wow. You trust me too much. I'm not that good, you know."
I looked him straight in the eye. "I know you're not that good. But I'm still trusting you."
Something unreadable passed over his face before he let go.
The more I watched him, the more I realized how… mysterious he was.
He never sat straight. Always twisting, turning, observing everyone around. He wasn't open about himself, but when it came to topics he cared about—veganism, atheism, random debates—he'd turn into a full-on professor. He could present anything, argue endlessly, charm everyone into listening.
And meanwhile, I was learning my own new lessons—about classmates, their secrets, their messy friendship-dating-swapping dramas. The world felt bigger, scarier, and realer than before.
Then came vacations. Online classes started. I was clueless—didn't even know how to log in.
And just like that… a message appeared. Links to every single class. Sent directly to me.
I didn't even have his number saved. Didn't even know he had mine.
But he had sent me everything, without me asking.
And in that quiet moment, I couldn't decide if I should be grateful… or suspicious.