A Feeling I Couldn’t Explain

It started with something small. The kind of thing you ignore because it doesn’t seem important enough to question.

A missed glance. A thought that lingered a little too long. A name that kept appearing in places it shouldn’t.

Ashton Carter.

I told myself it meant nothing. Just curiosity. Just adjustment. Just the mind reacting to something unfamiliar.

But the problem with ignoring something is that it doesn’t disappear. It only learns to stay quieter.

Adrian noticed I was off again.

He always noticed.

We were walking across campus after my morning class when he suddenly stopped in front of me.

“You’re doing it again,” he said.

I blinked. “Doing what?”

“That thing where you’re here but not here.”

I forced a small laugh. “I’m literally walking beside you.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

He stepped closer, tilting his head slightly like he was trying to read something behind my face.

“Talk to me,” he said.

“I am talking to you.”

“You know what I mean, Ava.”

The way he said my name made it sound more serious than usual.

I looked away first.

“I’m fine,” I said.

Adrian exhaled slowly, then reached out and gently adjusted the strap of my bag on my shoulder.

“You’ve been saying that a lot lately.”

“Because I am fine.”

He didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he started walking again, but slower this time, like he was waiting for me to match him.

I did.

But something between us felt slightly out of sync.

That afternoon, I decided to stay in the library longer than usual.

Not because I was focused. Not because I had work.

I just didn’t want to go home yet.

Adrian had training, and I needed space to think without his presence filling every silence.

At least that was what I told myself.

The library was almost empty, the kind of quiet that made even turning pages feel loud. I sat near the back where the lighting was softer, trying to read but failing to keep my attention steady.

Every few minutes, my thoughts drifted.

Not to Adrian.

Not to school.

To him.

I frowned at the realization.

It didn’t make sense.

Ashton was not part of my life. Not really. He barely spoke. Barely engaged. He existed in the same space as me but never intersected properly.

So why did my mind keep returning to him?

I closed the book and leaned back slightly.

That was when I saw him.

Not inside the library this time.

Outside.

Through the glass window.

Ashton was standing under a tree near the walkway, hands in his pockets, looking down at something in his hand. A notebook maybe. Or a phone. I couldn’t tell.

But he wasn’t alone for once.

A student approached him, spoke briefly, then left.

Ashton didn’t change expression.

He simply stayed there after they left, as if the interaction had never happened.

My chest tightened slightly for reasons I couldn’t explain.

Then he looked up.

Directly toward the window.

Toward me.

Even from a distance, I felt it.

That strange pause.

That quiet awareness.

I didn’t move.

Neither did he.

Then, just like always, he looked away first.

And walked off.

By the time Adrian met me later that evening, I was already quiet.

We were supposed to have dinner together, but I barely touched my food.

“You’re not eating,” he said.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You said that yesterday too.”

“I ate earlier.”

Adrian leaned back in his chair, watching me carefully.

“You’re somewhere else again,” he said.

I shook my head quickly. “I’m just tired.”

“That’s not it.”

I looked up at him.

He wasn’t smiling anymore.

He looked serious in a way that made my stomach tighten slightly.

“What is it then?” I asked.

Adrian hesitated.

That alone was unusual.

Then he said, “I don’t know.”

The answer surprised me.

He rarely admitted uncertainty.

“I just feel like I’m losing your attention,” he added quietly.

“That’s not true.”

“Then prove it.”

The words weren’t aggressive. They weren’t demanding.

But they still felt heavy.

I reached across the table and touched his hand.

“I’m here,” I said.

Adrian stared at our hands for a moment, then nodded slowly.

“Okay,” he said.

But he didn’t sound fully convinced.

Later that night, I couldn’t sleep again.

It was becoming a pattern I didn’t like.

I lay on my side staring at my ceiling, replaying the day in fragments.

Adrian’s voice. His expression. The way he looked at me like he was trying to hold something that was slipping.

And then Ashton.

Always Ashton.

Not doing anything specific. Not saying anything important.

Just existing in moments I couldn’t ignore.

I turned in bed.

What bothered me most wasn’t that I thought about him.

It was that thinking about him felt different.

Not exciting.

Not romantic.

Just… aware.

Like my mind had registered something it couldn’t categorize yet.

A knock at my door startled me slightly.

I checked my phone.

Adrian: Are you awake

I stared at the message for a moment before replying.

Me: Yes

A few seconds later.

Adrian: I miss you

I felt something soften in my chest.

I typed back slowly.

Me: We just saw each other

Adrian: Still miss you

I smiled faintly.

That was Adrian.

Simple. Direct. Always present.

And yet…

Even as I read his message, my mind did something I didn’t want it to do.

It drifted again.

Not away from him this time.

But toward something quieter.

A face that never asked for attention.

A presence that never demanded space.

Just observed.

Just stayed distant enough to make me wonder if I was imagining it.

I put my phone down and closed my eyes.

But sleep didn’t come easily.

Because for the first time, I couldn’t tell if what I was feeling was confusion.

Or the beginning of something I hadn’t learned how to name yet.