The sound of the bell signaling the end of class blended into the hustle and bustle of students exiting the classroom. The doors opened almost simultaneously, bringing with them a wave of laughter, hurried footsteps, and small talk. Sunlight streamed through the corridor windows and reflected off the still slightly damp floor.
Raka stood in front of the 11th grade science class with Dimas and Nathan. The three were still in their gym clothes after a short practice session during free time. Dimas gently smacked the basketball onto the floor, still enthusiastically explaining the strategy for next week's inter-class match.
"Guys, I'm serious. We need supporters! You play well, but if the stands are empty, the atmosphere won't be there," Dimas said, spinning the ball around his finger.
Nathan added dryly, "By supporters, you mean the girls, right?"
"It's to keep us motivated," Dimas replied lightly.
Raka chuckled softly. "You, Dim, are more concerned with the stands than the score."
"Motivation is important, bro. You've never heard the saying, 'Enthusiasm is half the victory,' have you?" Dimas replied confidently.
Nathan sighed. "I'm sure that saying wasn't coined by an athlete."
Raka was about to retort when, from the end of the hallway, two figures he'd heard so many times in stories appeared—Nayara and Nisa. The two of them walked side by side, carrying a thick stack of books. Nayara's hair was neatly flowing despite being blown by the breeze from the open window, while Nisa told a story, moving her hands freely as usual.
As they drew closer, Raka subconsciously glanced at Nayara. It wasn't intense, just a brief reflex, like someone who hears a familiar song and then subconsciously hums along.
Their gazes met.
It was a split second, but enough to make her breath hitch. Nayara quickly looked down, while Raka still managed to hold his gaze. It wasn't intense, just to confirm that the brief encounter was real.
Nisa saw this and immediately leaned toward Nayara. "He's looking at you, Nay," she whispered, amused but clear.
Nayara immediately answered, quickly and defensively, "No. It was just an accidental glance."
"Yeah, 'accidental' like in k-dramas," Nisa chuckled.
Nayara just sighed, but the corners of her lips turned up slightly. "You… watch too many dramas."
They walked towards the stairs, Nayara's steps a little quicker—more nervous than usual.
From the other side, Dimas clearly saw Raka's gaze. He immediately nudged his friend's arm.
"You're looking at Nayara, aren't you?"
Raka, still staring at the end of the hallway, smiled slightly. "I'm not the only one who's looking. You two and everyone else too," he said casually.
"But you're the only one who's openly looking," Dimas replied with a grin.
Nathan chimed in. "Early signs of silent love sickness."
Dimas let out a long whistle, "Since when, Bro?"
Raka let out a short laugh. "You're being ridiculous."
Dimas didn't give up. "You say I'm ridiculous now, but just wait until the match. If Nayara comes, you'll definitely play with more enthusiasm."
Raka laughed back. "I always play with enthusiasm."
"Are you sure? I'll call Nayara for real, then you'll know what it's like to be nervous."
Nathan shook his head. "You're an unsolicited love agent."
"But I'm productive, aren't I?" Dimas said proudly.
Raka just shook his head, laughing at their antics. But in between laughs, he glanced at the stairs once more. Just a glance.
The hallway was once again filled with the sounds of footsteps, laughter, and conversation. But to Raka, all those sounds slowly faded into a faint background.
All that remained was the echo of Nayara's footsteps in his head—light, regular, and somehow, clearly audible even though they were no longer there.