The sharp chime of the last school bell echoed across the hallways of Riverside High School in Sucheng, California.
Finally.
I lifted my head from where it had been resting against my palm and glanced out the classroom window. The sky was gray and heavy, clouds pressing down as if the heavens themselves were preparing to fall. The forecast this morning had said light rain—nothing more than a gentle drizzle that might dampen the sidewalks but leave everything else untouched. But something about the gloomy atmosphere felt different—too still, too sharp, like the air before a storm that knew it would be remembered.
"Finally done…" I muttered under my breath, my voice barely audible over the scraping of chairs and the chatter of students eager to escape.
Today had been particularly exhausting. Three exams back-to-back, a pop quiz in chemistry that I definitely hadn't studied for, and a lecture from Mr. Henderson about "applying ourselves to our full potential" that had dragged on for what felt like an eternity. All I wanted now was to see Emily's face and forget about the stress of it all.
I had promised Emily Carter that we'd grab dinner together before heading home to study. It was already late—nearly five-thirty, judging by the clock on the wall—and knowing her, she was probably waiting at our spot by the bus stop, that patient smile on her face even if I was running behind schedule.
Can't keep her waiting.
Stuffing my notebooks into my backpack with perhaps less care than they deserved, I pushed my chair back and stood up. The legs scraped against the linoleum floor with a harsh screech that made a few people glance my way. Just as I was about to step into the aisle and make my escape, a group of girls in navy blue school uniforms approached, their footsteps hesitant but determined.
Oh no. Not again.
One of them stood out immediately. Her long auburn hair shimmered under the harsh fluorescent lights of the classroom, catching the glow in a way that made it look almost copper. Even though she was flanked by two friends—one with short black hair and glasses, the other a blonde with her hair in a high ponytail—she carried an aura that made the rest of the hallway seem dimmer, as if she drew all the light in the room toward herself.
The other students still lingering in the classroom had gone quiet, watching with barely concealed interest. A few pulled out their phones, no doubt ready to capture whatever was about to happen for the school's gossip mill.
"Um… Michael…" The girl's voice trembled slightly as she held out a folded piece of pastel paper—pink, with what looked like a small heart sticker sealing it shut. Her gaze darted away from mine, unable to hold eye contact for more than a second. Her hands shook faintly, but she extended the letter all the same, her arm stretched out between us like a bridge she was terrified to cross.
I blinked, a little taken aback by the directness of it all, before giving her a polite smile.
Here we go again.
"Oh… thanks."
I accepted the note, slipping it into my backpack without opening it. The motion was practiced, automatic—I'd done this enough times that it had become muscle memory.
Love letters… at this point, I'd lost count of how many I'd received this semester alone. Ten? Fifteen? More? They all blurred together after a while—pastel paper, nervous confessions, hopeful eyes that I could never quite meet for fear of encouraging something I couldn't return.
Emily would sometimes tease me—or get jealous—whenever she caught someone slipping me one, though I never encouraged any of it. "You must be having the time of your life, Michael," she'd say with that mock-pout that made my heart ache even as I laughed. "All these girls throwing themselves at you while I'm stuck across town."
I'd always protest, of course, swearing up and down that I never asked for the attention, that she was the only one who mattered. Usually, I just stayed silent when girls approached me with confessions, and that alone was enough for most of them to give up eventually. They'd read the silence as rejection—which it was, in a way—and move on to someone more receptive.
But this one seemed different.
"M-my name is Samantha Lee…" The girl's cheeks flushed crimson, the color spreading from her neck all the way to the tips of her ears. She clasped her hands together nervously, fingers intertwining as if in prayer. Her expression was the very picture of shy innocence—wide eyes, trembling lips, the faint sheen of tears threatening to spill if things went badly. Her big brown eyes were wide and hopeful, making her look almost doll-like, as if she'd stepped out of one of those romance manga Emily sometimes left lying around my apartment.
For a moment, I could see why her friends whispered excitedly behind her, their voices high-pitched with vicarious thrill. Samantha was pretty, no doubt about it. The kind of pretty that turned heads in hallways and made boys stumble over their words. If circumstances were different—if I'd never met Emily, if my heart wasn't already spoken for—maybe I would have been flattered enough to at least consider it.
But…
Unfortunately, my heart already belonged to someone else.
Someone with silver-gray eyes that caught the light like moonlight on water. Someone whose laugh could make even the worst days feel bearable. Someone who was waiting for me right now, probably checking her phone and wondering if I'd gotten caught up in something again.
"Nice to meet you, Samantha," I said with a friendly smile, hoping it would soften the blow of what I was about to say. "But, uh… I've got something important I need to do today. Let's talk another time, okay?"
Sorry. But there's only one girl for me.
Her face lit up like a Christmas tree, as if those words had been exactly what she'd hoped to hear. "O-okay! That's fine! I won't keep you…"
She stepped back, bowing slightly—a gesture that felt almost too formal for a high school hallway—and I took that as my cue to leave. As I turned to make my escape, shouldering past the small crowd that had gathered to watch, I heard her friends squeal behind me.
"Samantha, you're so brave! I thought my heart would explode when you confessed to him!"
"I can't believe you did it in person! I would have just left the letter in his locker and run away!"
"Do you think he'll actually talk to you later? He said 'another time,' right?"
I sighed, the sound lost in the general din of the hallway. Being "the handsome guy" at school really wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Sure, there were perks—people were generally friendly, teachers tended to be more forgiving when I forgot my homework, and I'd never had trouble finding a lab partner in chemistry. But the attention… the expectations… the constant feeling of being watched and judged… it could feel like a burden sometimes. A weight I hadn't asked for but couldn't quite shake.
I just want to be normal. Is that so much to ask?
Pretending I didn't hear them—or the whispers of the other students speculating about what had just happened—I slung my backpack over my shoulder and hurried out of the classroom. The hallway stretched before me, lined with lockers plastered with stickers and photos, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. My footsteps echoed against the tile floor as I made my way toward the exit, eager to leave Riverside High behind for the day.