Chapter 6 :The notebook (Ethan pov)

Are you still staring at that phone?"

Jake's voice came from across the room. Ethan didn't look up.

"Yes."

"It's been three hours."

"I know."

"Three hours, Ethan. That's not thinking. That's something else."

Ethan finally looked at him. Jake was sitting on his bed, eating something from his bag, watching him like he was a science experiment.

"What else would it be?"

Jake chewed then thought about it. "Torture. You're torturing yourself."

"It's not torture."

"Then send something."

"I don't know what to send."

"Send 'goodnight.'"

"That's stupid."

"Send 'I got your text.'"

"That's obvious."

"Send 'I think about you too.'"

Ethan went still.

Jake raised an eyebrow. "Too soon?"

"Too true."

Jake laughed. Not mocking. Warm. "Then send it. She texted you first. She wants to hear from you."

She said, “do not do it again."

"About coffee. Not about texting. There's a difference." Jake said.

Ethan looked back at his phone. At her message. At the way she had said the coffee was good first, like she needed him to know that part before she told him to stop.

"She's complicated," Ethan said.

"Good."

"You keep saying that."

"Because I keep meaning it. Easy is boring. Complicated means she's worth it."

Ethan stared at the screen.

Jake was right. He is usually right about these things.

He typed: I won't buy you coffee again. But can I still talk to you on Thursday?

He stared at it.

Deleted it.

Typed: Good coffee deserves good company. But I'll stop if you want.

Deleted it.

Typed: I think about you.

His thumb hovered over send.

Then he put the phone down.

"I can't," he said.

"Ethan…"

"I can't figure out the right words. Nothing sounds like what I actually feel."

Jake was quiet for a moment. Then: "What do you actually feel?"

Ethan thought about it. The corridor floor. The way she moved her notebook to make space for him. The coffee from the good cart. The way she had said that is consumption not gratitude and almost smiled.

"I feel like I've known her forever," he said slowly. "And also like I know nothing. Like I want to sit beside her and not talk and have that be enough. Like I want to know what she's thinking every second."

Jake watched him. Didn't interrupt.

"I feel like something started," Ethan said. "And I don't know what it is. But I don't want it to stop."

Jake nodded slowly. Then he said: "Send that."

"What?"

"Send exactly what you just said."

"I can't send all that."

"Why not?"

"Because it's too much."

"It's honest. That's different."

Ethan looked at his phone. At the blank message box. At her name at the top.

He started typing.

I've been staring at my phone for three hours. Jake says that's torture. He's probably right. I don't know what to say except I feel like I've known you forever and also like I know nothing. I want to sit beside you and not talk and have that be enough. I want to know what you're thinking every second. I feel like something started and I don't know what it is but I don't want it to stop. Thursday feels far away.

He pressed send before he could stop himself.

Then he put the phone face down on his chest.

Jake was watching him. Grinning.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You're grinning."

"I'm proud of you. That's all."

Ethan threw a pillow at him. Jake caught it laughing.

The phone buzzed.

Ethan grabbed it.

Her reply: Thursday does feel far away.

He read it three times.

Then: Is that good or bad?

She replied quickly: I don't know yet. Ask me Thursday.

He smiled at the ceiling.

Jake groaned. "You're smiling like an idiot."

"I know."

"Stop it."

" I Can't."

"Ethan."

"What."

"Just go to sleep. You have class in the morning."

Ethan put the phone on the nightstand. Stared at the ceiling. The smile wouldn't leave.

He woke up at 9:15.

His eyes opened. He looked at his phone. 9:15.

Class started at 9.

He sat up fast.

"No no no"

Jake mumbled from his bed. "What?"

"Class. I missed class."

"So?"

"Thursday. I have class on Thursday. Today is Thursday."

Jake sat up slowly. Looked at him. "You missed Economics?"

"Yes."

"With her?"

"Yes."

Jake's face did something complicated. "You finally text her. She says Thursday feels far away. And then you miss class?"

"I didn't mean to…I fell asleep smiling like an idiot."

Jake laughed out loud.

"It's not funny."

"It's a little funny."

Ethan was already pulling jeans on. Already grabbing his bag.

"What are you doing?"

"Going to class."

"It's 9:16. Class started sixteen minutes ago."

"I don't care. I need to see her. I need to explain."

Jake watched him run out the door. Shaking his head. Still laughing.

Ethan ran across campus.

Full sprint. People moved out of his way. He didn't stop.

He burst through the lecture hall doors at 9:32.

Empty.

Professor gone. Students gone.

He stood there breathing hard. Looking at the empty seats.

Then he looked at her seat.

Her notebook was still there.

Maya never left things behind. Maya had a system. Maya dated every page before class started.

He walked to her seat. Picked it up.

He knew he shouldn't open it.

He opened it.

The first page. Dated. Neat notes.

He flipped to the back. To the margins she used for things that weren't notes.

Thursday crossed out.

Things that get comfortable get complicated not crossed out.

Maybe that is not always bad, not crossed out.

His heart was beating too fast

He flipped another page.

Smaller writing. Fresher ink.

I wish I could call him.

He stopped breathing.

He read it again.

I wish I could call him.

Him. She meant him.

She had written this. In her private notebook. About him.

He was still holding it when the door opened behind him.

He turned.

Maya stood there.

She looked at his hands. At the notebook. At his face.

Her face went still. Empty. Like someone closing a door very quietly.

She held out her hand.

"I can explain," Ethan said.

"Explain what?"

"Why I am here? Why I have your notebook? Why I…"

"You're here because you missed class. You have my notebook because you picked it up. You opened it because you were curious." Her voice was flat. Careful. "Is there more to explain?"

He looked at her. At the wall she had just built in front of her face.

"I read it," he said.

"I know."

"The margins. I read the margins."

"I know."

"All of them."

She didn't say anything. Just stood there with her hand out.

"I wish I could call him," Ethan said quietly. "That's what you wrote."

Her hand dropped.

For one second. Just one second. Something moved in her face. Something raw.

Then it was gone.

"My notebook," she said. "Please."

He handed it to her.

She tucked it under her arm. Looked at him one more time.

"Maya…"

"Don't."

"I'm not going to pretend I didn't see it."

"Then don't say anything."

"How can I not say anything?"

She stared at him. Her jaw was tight. Her eyes bright in a way that could be anger or could be something else.

"You can say something on the bench," she said. "The one by the science block. In ten minutes."

Then she turned and walked out.

The door click

ed shut behind her.

Ethan stood there in the empty lecture hall.

Ten minutes.

The bench by the science block.

He looked at his phone. 9:35.

He had ten minutes to figure out what to say to a girl who had just caught him reading her private thoughts about him.

He had no idea what to say.

But he was already walking.