The next morning, Lena avoided the lodge room like it had suddenly turned into a battlefield.
She told herself it wasn't about Ethan.
It wasn't.
But every time she thought about the night before—the closeness, the stolen kisses, the way her head had rested on his chest—her stomach twisted painfully.
Ethan, on the other hand, acted like nothing had happened.
He didn't bring it up when they passed each other in the hallway. He didn't text her. He didn't even glance at her in class.
Which made Lena feel… worse.
She found herself questioning everything.
Was it just a mistake?
Did he feel the same spark she did?
Or was it all in her imagination?
By the second day, her silence hadn't gone unnoticed.
Ethan finally found her sitting alone in the library, a book she wasn't really reading open on her lap.
"Hey," he said softly, leaning against the shelf. "You've been… quiet."
Lena looked up, her heart skipping a beat. "I'm fine."
"You sure?" His voice had that calm concern she'd grown to notice. It was patient. Gentle.
"I'm fine," she repeated, forcing a smile.
But it came out shaky.
They sat in silence for a moment. Ethan finally spoke, carefully, almost hesitant.
"You don't have to act like everything's normal… if it's not."
Lena's chest tightened. She swallowed. Her fingers fidgeted with the edges of her book.
"I—It's just… I don't know. I thought I'd… never feel this way about someone like… you. And then…" She trailed off, her voice cracking slightly.
"And then?" Ethan prompted, quietly, leaning a little closer.
"And then you kissed me."
Silence.
Ethan's face softened, but there was no smile.
"I did," he said quietly. "I shouldn't have."
Lena bit her lip. Her heart was breaking, but she knew she had to ask the one question burning inside her:
"Do you… like me?"
Ethan looked down, and her heart dropped at the hesitation in his eyes.
"No," he said finally.
The word landed like a punch.
"No?"
He shook his head. "I… I have a girlfriend, Lena. I like her. You can't… I can't—"
She swallowed hard, blinking back tears. It hurt, but… it made sense. He wasn't hers. And he had someone else.
"I understand," she whispered, her voice small. "I… it's fine."
But it wasn't fine. Her chest ached, her head throbbed, and a part of her wanted to run away and never come back.
Instead, she stayed.
They didn't speak of that night again.
Not really.
But something had shifted.
Ethan began noticing her in subtle ways—offering her snacks in the dining hall, helping her with homework late at night, laughing quietly when she told a joke.
She began noticing him too—the way his hand brushed hers when passing notes in class, the way he'd glance at her during movie nights, careful not to be caught.
And slowly, painfully, they began rebuilding a friendship.
A friendship built on stolen glances and unspoken feelings, delicate as glass, both of them knowing the truth they couldn't admit.
Yet Lena couldn't help the small hope building inside her:
Maybe, just maybe, he'd see her one day.
Maybe, just maybe, the right person really could come at the wrong time.