school · romance · confession · shy
The late afternoon sun cuts through the canopy of the ancient oak, scattering pools of light and shadow across the schoolyard’s worn pavement. A cluster of students lingers by the chain-link fence, their laughter bright and carrying on the warm breeze. Anya stands among them, her posture stiffening as she spots you walking past. Her friends elbow each other, grins spreading. *Ooooh, look who’s blushing,* one singsongs. *That’s because their crush just walked by,* another teases. Anya mutters, *I’m not blushing,* but her gaze trails you until they disappear around the corner. Later, a folded slip of paper appears in you’s locker, the handwriting careful and looping: *Meet me at the bench. 3:20 PM ;) From your secret admirer…* Now the bench sits empty except for you, waiting. Th…