In The Same Class.

By lunch, I was exhausted from pretending I didn't care. I sat on the bench, that me and my best friend used to sit. The one beneath the crooked tree where hardly anyone ever sat. I liked it, even now. It was tucked away just enough that I didn't feel entirely exposed, but not isolated that I'd draw more attention.

I sat down carefully, scarf snug and hands in my lap. I had a lunchbox in my bag. Packed carefully this morning. A sandwich, cut diagonally the way Mom always did. Apple slices. A small packet of crisps. Nothing unusual. Nothing loud. And yet... It stayed in my bag. I was hungry. My stomach twisted around itself.

Still... I didn't reach for the lunchbox.

Because eating meant removing the scarf.

And removing the scarf meant being seen.

I imagined it- fumbling with the fabric, people walking by, someone catching a glimpse- someone like Melissa or Tasha. Or worse- Jade.

What if someone looked?

What if someone stared?

What if someone pulled out their phone and takes a picture before I could hide again?

I had to leave the lunch in the classroom.

No. Not here. Not today. Not tomorrow. Probably not ever.

I had my sketchbook with me. I was doodling, nothing special, just lines and shapes to keep my hands busy and my mind off the thought that I was hungry- when something hard smacked the side of my head.

Hard enough to knock me sideways.

"What the -?!"

Despite the pain. I didn't think of anything, my hands flew up to my scarf , checking if it had slipped. It hadn't.

Footsteps.

Slow ones.

I looked up.

Jade.

He strolled over, no rush. No apology in his body language. Just calm, effortless movements like he didn't care what he'd done- or who he'd done it to. Hands in his pockets. When he spoke, his voice was lazy. Careless.

"Oh," he said lazily, his voice flat and full of fake surprises. "Didn't see you there."

"Mh- m. S-So y-you don't h-have eyes now?",I stuttered furious.

He chuckled, slow and low. "Nah. I've got eyes. Just use 'em for things worth looking at."

I narrowed my eyes at him. So that means he did see me.

"W-Whats t-that suppose to mean," I said acting clueless. I felt exposed like he knew that I had feelings for him and knew how to use his words.

He leaned just slightly, gaze locked on mine like I was something under glass.

"What? Are you curious if either you're worth looking at," he said and moved around me to pick up the ball that had rolled a few metres away. For a second, I thought he'd just walk off. But he didn't. He bounced the ball once against the ground then rolled it slowly beneath his shoe.

"Nice scarf," he added over his shoulder.

I didn't respond. Not because I didn't have a comeback, but because my mouth had gone dry. My whole body felt heat- logged and shaky.

He turned to leave.

Then stopped.

"You gonna sit here again tomorrow?" he asked without facing me.

I frowned. "D-Does it matter?"

He looked back, eyes half- lidded. "Maybe."

Then he left. The bell rang after a few minutes, everyone started rushing back to their classes. When I was sitted, Jade came in walking slow as usual, does he always come to class late. And settled down on a chair like nothing happened during lunch. He didn't even apologize. Is he usually like this, one minute he makes your heart flatter then the next he ignores you like he doesn't know you, it's not like he does even know me.

@

I was staring down at my notebook, flipping through pages like I was trying to find some secret, answer hidden in the messy lines of writing. I even kept reading the same lines on my notebook for the fifth time. The room was dimmer now, sunlight fading through the windows, and my eyes were heavy but I kept reading anyways until my stomach rumpled, alerting me that I didn't eat.

I didn't notice how quiet it had gotten.

I didn't notice everyone had left.

I only realised when I finally looked up. The classroom was empty. Except for me, and him.

Jade was besides me, slouched in his chair with his head resting on his folded arms. His hoodie slipped halfway off one shoulder, and his headphones hung around his neck like a lazy crown. He looked... out of it. Almost asleep.

Should I wake him up. No. I won't. A slow chill ran down my spine. I quietly packed my book. My hands moved slow, careful, so I wouldn't make a sound.

I was ready to leave.

But-

"Leaving already?", he muttered, raising his head away from the table, stretching with a lazy groan like he'd been asleep for days. His hoodie slid further down his shoulder.

I froze at my movements.

"Did the bell ring?", he said, like he was asking and telling me at the sam time.

"Y-Yes," I lied. I stood up fast, trying to avoid his eyes.

"Why?", he said. I stopped, turning my head slowly to face him.

"Why do you act like that? Are you... scared... of me?", he stood up, walking towards me. With his usual posture.

Yes... I was.

Not the way you fear a monster in the dark.

It was worse.

It was the fear of how close he stood without touching.

How his voice would crawl into my head and stay.

I looked down. Words stuck on my throat. He stepped closer. The room felt smaller, tighter, even though there was plenty of space. His presence sucked the air out of the room.

"Oh. Or ... is it that... you like me," he said like he saw the flicker and twisted it into something else entirely. My eyes looked up to his at last, unflinching and heart thrumbling.

"No," I responded quickly and a little loud.

He had a smirk in his face, slow and dangerous. Eyes darkening.

He took another step forward, closing the distance until the edge of the desk pressed against my knee.

"Listen," he said, voice dropping to that dangerous whisper. "You keep quiet about what you saw. About what you caught me doing."

I swallowed hard. The memory burned under the scarf- the night I caught him smoking how he'd pinned my hands, his breath hot against my skin.

"A-And... If i-i don't?, I whispered

His grin was sharp "You don't want to find out what happens to people who don't keep quiet.

The silence wrapped tight around us. I swallowed the tremor in my throat and finally whispered back. "Is that a threat?"

His eyes flicked. Looking right into mine, piercing through my soul. Searching for something.

"Consider it as one."

"What if I want to talk?"

He smirked. "Do you know how to play dangerous games. That's what you would be doing."

He raised his brow. I tried to look away, but his hand lifted, fingers brushing the edge of my scarf- not pulling, just hovering, as if testing how far I'd let him go.

"Don't worry", he said, barely audible.

"I won't bite you"

"And I won't stop you from thinking about this either."

I turned my face slightly, to look up to him.

"I-I won't."

He tilted his head, gaze fixed on mine, unreadable.

"You sure about that?", he asked, voice low.

Before I could answer- before I could even breathe-

He leaned closer.

Closer than close.

The kind of close that made the air between us go sharp- like even silence wanted to step back. His shoulder brushed mine.

On purpose.

The heat of him crept through my sleeve, and his scent- warm, clean, like cedar and soap and something I couldn't name- pulled me into a spiral.

"You sure," he murmured, "you don't like this?"

My breath caught. I didn't look at him- I couldn't. My scarf shielded most of my face, but I knew my eyes had already betrayed me. Wide. Glued to the desk. Frozen.

He shifted just a little closer, and I could feel the heat of his mouth behind the fabric that guarded my disfigurement.

"Maybe..." he said, his voice lower now, almost velvet, almost wicked, "maybe you like the way I make you nervous."

I didnt move.

Not because I didn't want to.

But because my body wouldn't listen.

He didn't smirk. He just waited there for a second, like listening to the way my breath quickened beneath the scarf was enough of an answer.

Then-

He straightened, he leaned back and went back to the chair to grap his bag.

And went out like nothing happened.

Like he hadn't just folded my entire nervous system into a fist and crunched it.