By the middle of the week, the butterflies hadn't gone away.
If anything, they grew stronger.
Ethan started smiling at me when we passed in the hallway. Just small smiles—quick, shy, unsure. I smiled back every time, even when my face felt warm and my heart beat too fast.
One afternoon during English class, a folded paper slid onto my desk.
Do you want to be partners for the project?
I stared at it like it might disappear if I didn't answer quickly. My hand shook a little as I wrote okay and passed it back.
Working together felt strange at first. We talked quietly, bumping elbows, apologizing too much. But slowly, it became easier. He told me he liked drawing comics. I told him I loved writing stories. When he said he'd like to read something I wrote someday, my chest felt light.
After school, we walked out together.
No hand-holding.
No big moment.
Just footsteps side by side.
Still, it felt important.
That night, I wrote in my notebook:
I think this is what a crush feels like.