30 Days With My Mean Senior

(Louis’ POV)

It was my first day at school.

I stood just inside the school gates, my hand tight on my sports bag strap. I took a slow look around. The campus spread out, all polished and perfect, like a picture from a brochure that people from my neighborhood could never afford. The buildings were tall and clean, made of glass and pale stone, shining in the morning sun. It almost didn't look real. The lawns were so neat, they looked more painted than grown. Students walked in quiet groups, their uniforms sharp, their laughs soft and controlled. Nobody was rushing. Nobody was loud. Nobody looked lost.

Except me.

I let out a small breath and shifted my bag again. It wasn’t heavy, but it felt like it held everything important – why I was here, my one chance, proof that I deserved to be past these gates.

“Okay,” I whispered to myself, barely audible. “Not that scary.”

It wasn’t, really. Just… different. Back home, everything had a kind of noise. People talked over each other, laughed too loudly, and argued out in the open. Life just happened. 

I started walking. At first, my steps were careful, like I needed to match the place’s rhythm before it would accept me. But the longer I walked, the more I looked around instead of down. It was hard not to.

A group of students passed me, their talk easy and natural. I caught bits of it – something about internships, family parties, a trip abroad. The way they spoke made it sound normal, like these things were just everyday life, not something you had to fight for. Another student sat under a tree, reading, completely lost in his book. Someone else laughed softly by the fountain, covering their mouth like even happiness needed to be kept in check. Everything was… put together.

And I didn’t hate it. Actually, I liked it. There was a quiet beauty to it, a way I couldn’t quite explain. It felt like stepping into a story that had already begun long before I arrived. I just had to find my part in it.

I was still looking around when it happened. I didn’t notice him right away. It wasn’t like in the movies where everything slows down and music plays. It was quieter, subtler. It started with a shift. The air around me felt different, like everyone’s attention had been drawn in the same direction without anyone saying a word. Conversations didn’t stop, but they softened. People didn’t stare openly, but their eyes stayed put just a little longer.

I followed that shift without thinking. And then I saw him. For a moment, I forgot how to move.

He stood a little ways off, surrounded by people but somehow separate from them. It wasn’t a gap in space – it was something else. Something quieter. Like an invisible line no one dared to cross. He was… beautiful. Not in a soft, inviting way. His beauty was sharp, almost untouchable. Everything about him seemed precise – the way he stood, how perfectly his uniform fit, how his expression didn’t change even as people talked around him. If anything, he looked bored. Or maybe just… far away.

I couldn’t look away. It wasn’t just his looks. It was the feeling. Like he didn’t belong to the same world as everyone else, even in a place like this. And then, for a quick second, a strange thought crossed my mind. He looked lonely. The thought came so suddenly that I almost laughed at myself. How could someone like him be lonely? Everyone was watching him. Everyone knew him. But still… There was something in the way he stood there, untouched by everything around him, that didn’t match the attention he was getting.

Before I could think too much about it, my feet started moving. I didn’t plan it. I didn’t think about the consequences or how silly it might look. I just… walked. Each step felt lighter than it should have, like something was pulling me forward. People noticed as I passed them. I could feel their eyes, their curiosity, but it didn’t stop me. By the time I realized what I was doing, I was already standing in front of him.

Up close, he looked even more unreal. His gaze shifted to me slowly, like I wasn’t worth the effort of immediate attention. When his eyes finally met mine, they were calm. Cold, but not unkind. Just… uninterested. For a second, I forgot what I was supposed to say. Then I smiled.

“Hi,” I said, a little breathless but steady. “You’re Paul Adriano, right?”

There was a pause. Not long, but long enough to feel it.

“Yes,” he replied, his voice smooth and flat, like the answer didn’t matter.

I nodded, like that confirmed something important. “I thought so.” Another pause. He didn’t ask who I was. He didn’t seem curious. Didn’t seem like anything at all. “I’m Louis Walker,” I added anyway. “I just transferred here.”

Still nothing. The people around him had gone quiet now, not completely, but enough that I could feel the shift. They were watching and waiting. I should have felt embarrassed but I didn’t.

Instead, I tilted my head slightly, studying him the same way I had from a distance. “You’re even better-looking up close,” I said honestly.

A few people gasped softly behind me. Paul didn’t react. If anything, his expression grew slightly colder.

“If that’s all,” he said, his tone cutting cleanly through the moment, “you’re blocking my way.”

I blinked. Then stepped aside immediately. “Right. Sorry.”

He walked past me without another glance. Just like that. It should have ended there. A normal person would have left it at that. I watched his back as he disappeared into the building, the quiet crowd parting for him without being asked.

And then, without thinking too hard about it, I smiled again. “Yeah,” I murmured to myself. “I like him.”

By lunchtime, everyone knew. I didn’t mean for it to spread that fast, but Crestfall wasn’t the kind of place where things stayed quiet for long – especially not something like this. I found him again near the courtyard. This time, there were even more people around. I didn’t hesitate.

“I like you,” I said, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. “So I’m going to keep talking to you until you like me back.”

Silence fell around us. Paul looked at me again, his expression unreadable.

“You’re persistent,” he said.

I grinned. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” I said easily. “I’ll still do it.”

There was a hint of something in his eyes. Not interested. But not complete indifference either. He didn’t respond. But that was enough for me.

That night, the dorm kitchen was quiet. Most people had already gone to bed, and the lights above cast a soft glow over the counters. It felt different from the rest of the campus – less perfect, more real. I stood there with my sleeves rolled up, staring down at the ingredients in front of me. Flour. Sugar. Eggs. Simple things. Familiar things.

I exhaled slowly and reached for the bowl. “I hope you like sweets,” I muttered under my breath, cracking an egg carefully against the edge. The sound echoed slightly in the quiet room. As I worked, my movements became steadier, more natural. This was something I understood. Something that didn’t change just because I was in a different place.

Mixing. Measuring. Waiting. It gave me time to think. About the way he looked at me. About the way he didn’t. About that strange feeling I couldn’t quite shake – the one that told me there was more to him than what everyone else saw. I didn’t know what I was doing, exactly. Didn’t know how this would turn out. But I knew one thing. I wanted to try.

Not because he was beautiful or because everyone else kept their distance. But because, for a moment, he had looked like someone standing alone in a crowd. And I didn’t like that.

I slid the tray into the oven and leaned against the counter, crossing my arms as I waited. The quiet wrapped around me again, softer this time. When the dessert was finally done, I took it out carefully, setting it aside to cool. The smell filled the room, warm and sweet, something that felt completely out of place in a school like Crestfall. I smiled a little.

Then reached for a small box. As I packed it neatly, tying it with a simple ribbon, I paused for a moment, my hands resting lightly on the lid. Paul Adriano. The boy everyone watched. The boy was no one approached. I wondered what he was like when no one was looking. When the silence wasn’t filled with admiration. When he didn’t have to stand so perfectly still.

My fingers tightened slightly around the ribbon. “…I guess I’ll find out,” I said softly. And just like that, the decision felt real. Tomorrow, I'll go back. Not just to see him. But to understand him better. Even if he didn’t make it easy. I picked

up the box, holding it carefully, as it mattered. Because somehow— It already did.