The next morning, Ava walked into school feeling uneasy. Something had shifted, though she couldn't put her finger on it.
It didn't take long to figure out why.
She overheard whispers as soon as she stepped into the hallway:
"Did you see Ava? She only wanted a good grade—she doesn't even like Noah!"
Ava froze. Her heart dropped. She hadn't said anything like that. But someone had, and now the rumor was spreading like wildfire.
Her chest tightened as she scanned the cafeteria. Noah was already there, chatting with friends. But the moment their eyes met, something felt… off. He looked distracted, a faint frown tugging at his mouth.
Ava's stomach twisted. Did he hear it? Did he believe it?
Earlier, during lunch, someone had apparently twisted a comment she made about the lab project. Noah must have heard a warped version:
"I just want to make sure we get a good grade."
What he didn't know was that she had meant it to be about teamwork, not him.
Now, everything felt fragile. Every glance, every laugh, every small interaction could be misinterpreted.
Noah finally slid into the seat across from her, but there was a strange tension in his shoulders. "So… about the lab," he said cautiously. "You… you were just… doing it for the grade?"
Ava blinked, shocked. "No! That's not what I meant—"
Before she could finish, a few classmates snickered from the next table. The rumor had already spread, twisting her words into something untrue.
Noah leaned back, running a hand through his hair. "Oh… okay," he said slowly, though there was a sharp edge in his voice that Ava had never heard before.
The rest of lunch was unbearable. Ava felt trapped in her own thoughts, while Noah kept a polite distance. She wanted to explain, to fix it—but every time she opened her mouth, the words tangled, and she couldn't get them out.
After school, Ava sat on a bench outside, hugging her sketchbook to her chest. Her mind replayed every moment of the day: the whispers, the looks, the tiny distance growing between her and Noah.
She hated it. Hated the rumors. Hated that one girl's lies could create so much chaos. Hated that Noah might believe them.
But most of all, she hated the feeling of helplessness—the way her heart hurt even though nothing had actually happened.
Because one thing was clear: if Noah believed the rumor, it could ruin everything they had been building.
And Ava wasn't going to let that happen.
Ava's thumb hovered over her phone. She'd been texting Lily about the science fair chaos and Noah's ridiculous "ice cream math" comment all afternoon.
He smiled at me today… WHY IS MY HEART LIKE THIS?? she typed, giggling at her own dramatic confession.
She hit "send" without looking—only to realize a second later that her message hadn't gone to Lily.
It had gone to Noah.
Her stomach plummeted. No. No. No. No.
The phone buzzed almost instantly. Her heart skipped a beat.
So… your heart does that because of me?
Ava's eyes widened. She stared at the screen, cheeks on fire.
How does he even… respond like that?!
She wanted to delete the message, hide under her desk, anything—but instead, she froze.
Noah's reply sat there, blinking, waiting. Her brain scrambled, heart racing, words failing.
Minutes passed. Or maybe seconds. Time seemed suspended.
Finally, she typed—then deleted. Typed—then deleted again. Nothing felt right.
She looked up and, just like that, she saw him across the hallway. He was smirking, a little mischievous, but there was something soft in his eyes. Something that made her heart thump even faster.
Silence. Chaos. Blushing.
And for the first time, Ava realized something:
This wasn't a mistake. Not really. It was the start of something she'd been feeling all along.
The day started like any other—except it didn't.
Ava walked into school, heart heavy, sketchbook clutched tightly to her chest. Every hallway, every classroom, every whisper seemed louder than usual.
She spotted Noah across the cafeteria. He looked… normal. Smiling at friends, laughing at something funny. But when their eyes met, he looked away immediately.
Ava swallowed hard. She couldn't bring herself to approach him. Not after the rumor, not after the misunderstanding.
So she avoided him.
Noah, of course, noticed her quiet retreat. By the end of first period, he realized he hadn't even spoken to her. Not a word. Not a glance that lingered.
He didn't know what to do either. The rumor had twisted her words, and now she was avoiding him. It felt like walking through a hall filled with invisible walls. Every corner, every glance, every step reminded him of her absence.
In class, their usual seats felt colder. The space between them suddenly stretched like a canyon. Ava kept her eyes on her notebook, trying to focus on homework, doodles, anything.
Noah stared at his own papers, pretending to take notes, but his mind replayed every laugh, every shared glance, every late-night text that now seemed… unreachable.
By lunch, the tension was almost unbearable. They sat at separate tables, pretending not to notice each other, but both feeling the emptiness of the missing connection.
Every time Ava looked up, she caught a glimpse of Noah's familiar messy hair, the tilt of his head, the way he laughed quietly at something small. She wanted to run over, to explain everything, to bridge the silence—but pride and fear kept her frozen.
Noah, meanwhile, wanted to reach out, to clear the air, to tell her he knew the truth and didn't care about the rumor—but every attempt to move closer was blocked by the awkward weight of the silence.
School dragged on like this. A place that was once filled with small laughs, shared jokes, and stolen glances now felt heavy, quiet, and almost wrong.
By the time the final bell rang, both Ava and Noah realized the same thing without saying it:
They missed each other.
Desperately.
But neither knew how to fix it.
And so the silent treatment continued, a fragile wall built from misunderstanding, pride, and unspoken feelings—both hoping the other would make the first move.
That day at afternoon,
The hallway was quiet after the last bell. Most students had already gone home, leaving only the janitor's soft hum and the occasional locker click.
Ava was gathering her books, pretending she wasn't anxiously waiting for the walk home. She froze when she heard a familiar voice behind her.
"Ava."
She turned. Noah stood there, hands in his pockets, eyes serious but soft.
"Uh… hi," she muttered, clutching her sketchbook a little tighter.
"I think we need to talk," he said. His voice was calm, but there was an edge she recognized—like he was holding back words he didn't want to yell.
Ava nodded, though her stomach flipped. She wanted to run, hide, pretend this never happened, but she couldn't.
They walked a few steps down the empty hallway. The air felt heavy, filled with all the unsaid words of the past week.
"Okay… you first," Ava started nervously. "I just… I didn't mean—what I said before. About the project. It wasn't about you. It was twisted—"
Noah held up a hand. "Wait. That's not what I heard either. I heard… a version of what someone else told me. And, well… I guess we both got the wrong idea."
Ava blinked. Relief and frustration collided. "So… you weren't mad?"
"No," he said quickly. "I mean… I was annoyed, I guess. Confused. But mad? No."
Ava hesitated. The tension in her chest didn't fully release. "I… I'm sorry. For… everything. For the rumor, for… avoiding you."
Noah sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "Me too. I should have just… asked. Not assumed."
There was a pause. A quiet, awkward, heart-fluttering pause. Ava looked up, meeting his gaze, and something shifted.
"I… I like spending time with you," Noah said quietly. His voice dropped a fraction, almost a whisper. "More than… just lab partners or… friends."
Ava's stomach did a little somersault. Her face heated, words sticking in her throat. She wanted to say the same, but… the timing, the fear, the lingering awkwardness…
Instead, she muttered, "I… like spending time with you too."
Noah's eyes softened. He smiled, that familiar warm grin that made her heart do flips. But he didn't say more. He didn't cross the line to a full confession.
They stood there, a step closer than before, connected by truth, laughter, and a shared heartbeat of unspoken feelings.
It wasn't everything, not fully. Not yet.
But it was enough to break the wall that had grown between them.
Enough to make the hallway feel lighter.
Enough to make Ava realize… that maybe, just maybe, the next step wouldn't be so scary.
And for the first time in days, she felt like they could finally start over.
The science fair was chaos. Literally.
Tables covered in colorful experiments, buzzing gadgets, and overly excited students filled the gym. Ava clutched her sketchbook nervously while setting up their project.
Noah, of course, was grinning like it was the most fun day of his life. "Relax," he said, waving a hand toward the towering volcano model. "We've got this. Trust me."
Ava raised an eyebrow. "Last time you said that, the lava exploded everywhere."
"Details," he replied, shrugging. "Epic details."
The bell rang. Judges began circling. Their table was first. Ava felt her stomach knot. She peeked at Noah—he gave her a thumbs-up, playful and confident.
Then disaster struck.
One of the wires in their project sparked. Smoke hissed. Their miniature solar-powered car refused to move. Students nearby gasped. Ava froze.
Noah grabbed a toolkit, whispering, "Okay, step one—don't panic. Step two—don't panic."
Ava swallowed, heart racing. Somehow, amidst the chaos, she felt a strange calm. Noah was calm, focused, and… right there.
Together, they worked: rewiring the motor, adjusting the sensors, steadying the car. Their hands brushed several times, each contact sending a small jolt through Ava's body.
"Got it!" Noah said finally. The car sputtered, then zipped perfectly across the table.
The judges clapped. Students around them cheered. Ava couldn't help smiling, breathless from relief and excitement.
Noah leaned close, whispering, "See? Chaos, handled."
Ava laughed, shaking her head. "You make it sound so easy."
"Nope," he said, grinning, "I just make it fun."
As they presented, answering questions, explaining the science, everyone noticed something else: their chemistry. The way they laughed, the way they worked together, the small glances that weren't part of the presentation but said everything.
By the time the fair ended, they weren't just partners in a project—they were a team in everything.
Walking home afterward, Ava felt lighter than she had in weeks. Noah bumped shoulders with her playfully. "We survived science fair chaos. Together."
"Together," Ava agreed, smiling.
And for the first time, she realized it wasn't just about the project. It was about them.
Ater 2 days...
The hallway was empty except for the echo of lockers closing and distant footsteps. The chaos of the science fair had faded, leaving only the faint smell of poster boards and markers.
Ava was walking toward her next class when she felt someone step beside her.
"Noah?" she said, a little breathless, surprised.
He stopped walking and faced her, fidgeting with the straps of his backpack. His usual confident grin was replaced with something… nervous, vulnerable.
"Hey," he said, voice low. "Can we… talk?"
Ava's heart started thumping. Here it comes. The moment I've been waiting for…
They moved to the side of the hallway. Silence stretched between them, heavy and electric. Noah took a deep breath.
"I… uh… I like you," he blurted out, then swallowed hard. "Like… actually like you. Not just as a lab partner or a friend. I mean… I really like you."
Ava froze, eyes wide. Her cheeks warmed so fast she felt like her hoodie could catch fire.
"I… I liked you first," she whispered, barely audible.
Noah blinked, a slow grin spreading across his face, and his nervous tension melted into relief. "You did?"
Ava nodded, biting her lip to hide a smile. "Yeah… I did. For… a long time, actually."
For a moment, the hallway was quiet. Pure, soft, heart-fluttering quiet.
Then Noah reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
"I'm glad," he said softly. "Because I've been trying to figure out how to tell you… forever."
Ava laughed softly, nerves giving way to warmth. "I guess we're both terrible at timing."
"Nope," Noah said, grinning, eyes sparkling. "We're perfect at it. Just… a little late."
They stood there, side by side, a little closer than before, and for the first time, there was no misunderstanding, no rumors, no awkward silences.
Just them.
Pure, wholesome softness.
And Ava realized, as her heart fluttered in her chest, that this—Noah, this moment, this feeling—was exactly where she was supposed to be.
The sun was just beginning to dip behind the trees, casting golden streaks across the sidewalk.
Ava met Noah outside the local ice cream shop, both of them a little awkward, a little shy, and completely excited.
"Hey," Noah said, smiling that familiar grin.
"Hey," Ava replied, tugging at the sleeves of her hoodie.
They stepped inside the shop. Nothing fancy, nothing fancy-schmancy—just two teens picking ice cream flavors that somehow took forever.
"I can't decide," Ava muttered, scanning the options. "Too many choices."
Noah grinned. "Then get two. One for each hand. Ice cream math."
Ava laughed softly. "You're ridiculous."
"Thank you," he said, bowing slightly. "I try."
They settled on waffle cones—chocolate for him, strawberry for her—and stepped outside to sit on a low brick wall. The street was quiet, save for distant laughter and the occasional car passing by.
They talked about everything and nothing:
Favorite books, songs, and memes
The chaos of the science fair
That embarrassing TikTok video that had made them semi-famous
Every so often, their shoulders brushed. Every so often, they caught each other's gaze just a little too long.
Ava wanted to reach for his hand, just to see what it felt like, but she didn't. She didn't need to. Not yet.
Noah, on the other hand, kept glancing at her fingers, the way she fiddled with her cone, and then looking away like a kid caught sneaking a cookie.
"Okay," he said finally, "I think we should walk. Ice cream's better when it's… moving."
Ava giggled. "Moving ice cream math?"
"Exactly. Plus, we can avoid the sticky sidewalks," he added, wiggling his eyebrows.
They walked side by side down the quiet streets, talking and laughing, the world shrinking to just the two of them. No drama. No rumors. No misunderstandings.
At one point, Ava stumbled slightly on a crack in the sidewalk. Noah's hand shot out instinctively. She barely noticed the touch, but her heart skipped anyway.
They kept walking, neither of them saying a word about it, both pretending it didn't happen.
And that was the best part.
No grand gestures. No dramatic confessions. Just ice cream, laughter, and a quiet feeling that, somehow, everything was exactly right.
Ava realized that teen comfort—the kind where you don't have to explain every feeling, the kind where you can be awkward and messy and still feel safe—was maybe the sweetest thing in the world.
Noah glanced at her. "This… is nice," he said softly.
Ava smiled, her cheeks warm. "Yeah. It really is."
And for the first time, walking side by side, laughing at inside jokes, almost holding hands, Ava felt… at home.