Ava had spent the whole morning replaying the lab incident in her head—the spilling, the laughing, the way Noah had somehow made even a boring experiment feel… different.
She thought she knew everything about how her semester would go.
Safe seat. Quiet desk. Minimal interaction. Predictable.
And then she overheard something she wasn't supposed to.
It was between Mrs. Lane and another teacher, just outside the classroom door. Ava froze behind a stack of textbooks.
"Didn't you assign Ava Carter to sit with Blake for the lab?" the teacher said.
"Yeah," Mrs. Lane replied. "But Noah requested a last-minute switch. Said he wanted a challenge or something. Weird kid, huh?"
Ava blinked. Blake? That was the kid who had been in front of the class last semester, always reading quietly. He was predictable. Safe. The exact opposite of Noah.
Her chest skipped. She wasn't supposed to be partnered with Noah at all.
He had requested it. Him.
The revelation made her head spin.
Noah wasn't just assigned next to her by accident.
He had asked.
And now, every time she thought about the pencil incident, the accidental elbow spill, the quiet laughs during the lab, it felt different.
Like maybe… some of it wasn't just random.
Ava bit her lip, feeling that familiar heat in her cheeks.
Her quiet, predictable world was officially off-balance.
She packed her notebook slowly, thinking about what it meant.
Noah had chosen her.
And somehow, that made everything more terrifying… and more exciting.
Noah was walking down the hallway between classes, earbuds in, scrolling through TikTok like it was a full-time job, when he saw her.
Ava.
Not in class, not buried in a textbook, not doodling in her usual hooded disguise. She was sitting cross-legged on the library steps, headphones on, sketchbook open, completely lost in her own little universe.
Noah froze.
He'd seen Ava in class, in labs, even at group projects—but this was different. Here, there was no careful quietness, no "blend into the background" Ava. She was… unapologetically herself.
She chewed the end of her pencil thoughtfully, tapping lightly on the page, scribbling quick sketches of students walking by, small caricatures of teachers, and little abstract doodles that only made sense to her. Every so often, she'd tilt her head, smile faintly at her own work, and mutter soft notes to herself about proportions and shading.
Noah leaned against the railing, pretending to check his phone. But he wasn't checking anything. His eyes kept drifting back.
"This… is kind of cool," he muttered under his breath. "She's… she's really cool."
Ava looked up, one eyebrow raised, as if sensing his attention. Her headphones slipped just enough for her to notice him.
"Uh… hi," she said, slightly flustered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Hi," Noah said, suddenly awkward. "I mean… you're… uh… sketching stuff?"
Ava tilted her head, holding back a laugh. "Yeah. It's… usual stuff."
"Usual? That looks… insane. Like… wow. I mean, you're good at it."
She blushed lightly, ducking her head. "Thanks… I just… like drawing things I notice. Helps me think."
Noah nodded, genuinely impressed. "I notice. And it's… nice to see you like… doing your thing. Not like… school-Ava. Library-Ava. Sketch-Ava."
Ava giggled, a soft, quiet sound that made Noah's chest tighten in a weird, unfamiliar way.
"Well… I'm glad you noticed," she said, scribbling a little doodle of him on the corner of her page. He didn't see it yet, but somehow it felt like a secret message meant only for him.
Noah crouched down on the step beside her, pretending to look at a random page in his notebook. "So… what are you drawing right now?" he asked, trying to sound casual but failing spectacularly.
"Hmm… just… everyone I can see from here," she replied, eyes twinkling behind her hair. "I like to catch people in little moments. The weird ones."
"Like me?" Noah asked, smirking.
Ava didn't answer immediately. She tilted her sketchbook slightly toward him. There it was—an exaggerated cartoon version of him, hoodie slightly too big, hair sticking up, earbuds dangling. He raised an eyebrow.
"You… drew me?"
"Maybe," she said, shrugging, trying to act nonchalant. "It's… funny. I don't always get it right."
"Nope," he said, grinning. "This is perfect. Chaos-me, exactly."
They both laughed quietly, the kind of shared laugh that feels too private to invite anyone else in.
For the rest of lunch, Noah found himself sneaking glances, noticing:
The way Ava focused, biting her lip slightly when she concentrated.
How she hummed softly to herself while sketching.
That faint, satisfied smile she gave herself when something looked just right.
He realized something important:
He didn't just like Ava for the lab jokes, the class banter, or the way she helped others. He liked Ava being Ava—all of her quirks, her quiet focus, her hidden humor.
And maybe… he wanted to be part of that world.
"Hey," Noah said finally, leaning closer. "Next time, you should show me some of your techniques. Teach me how to be… as awesome as your sketches."
Ava's eyes widened slightly, then crinkled into a shy smile. "Deal… but only if you promise not to ruin my sketchbook."
"Hmm… no promises," he teased, nudging her shoulder gently.
And just like that, in the middle of the library steps, surrounded by books and scattered students, something shifted.
Not a dramatic confession.
Not a grand gesture.
Just the quiet, awkward, perfect moment where Noah started seeing Ava differently, and Ava started realizing he might be worth letting in.
The bell rang.
They packed up, walked toward class together, laughing quietly at some small joke only they understood.
It wasn't love yet.
But it was the first day the world felt a little different.
A little warmer.
A little… theirs.
Ava sat in her usual spot by the window, sketchbook open on her lap. The afternoon sun spilled over the pages, catching the soft lines of graphite and colored pencil.
Her pencil moved almost without thought, tracing shapes and shadows until a familiar messy-haired face appeared on the page.
Noah.
She paused, studying her own drawing. The way his hair fell into his eyes. The way his grin tilted just slightly, the same grin that had made her heart race countless times. The subtle details she had memorized without realizing it—how his hoodie always bunched at the sleeves, the way his hands moved when he was fixing something—were all there.
Ava's cheeks warmed. She quickly scribbled a few finishing touches and then closed the sketchbook, hugging it to her chest.
It wasn't like she planned to show anyone. It was just… her. A secret little tribute to someone who had slowly become the center of her thoughts.
Later, in class, she tried to focus. But her mind wandered back to the sketch. She could almost see him there, smiling right at her, as if the drawing had captured not just his face, but his energy, his chaos, his presence.
And for the first time, she admitted to herself quietly: I really like him. More than I thought I would.?
Noah had been handing in "poems" for English class for weeks. At first, Ava thought they were random assignments—short, messy, full of scribbles, and sometimes barely legible.
Then one afternoon, she was borrowing a pencil from him and happened to glance at the notebook he'd left open.
Her eyes widened.
Lines like:
"Eyes like storm clouds hiding secrets,
A laugh that sneaks into the quietest corners…"
"…hands that fix chaos with gentle fingers,
A smile that makes the world feel small and warm…"
Ava's pencil slipped in surprise. The words—they weren't just words. They were about her.
She stared at the page, heart thudding. He notices me. He really notices me.
Later, when she confronted him jokingly—"So, these poems… all about someone special, huh?"—Noah just laughed, scratching the back of his neck, cheeks slightly pink.
"Maybe," he admitted, voice low. "Maybe they're… inspired."
Ava felt a rush of warmth, part embarrassment, part delight. The chaotic, teasing Noah—the one who made her laugh and rolled his eyes at homework—was also quietly thinking of her in his own, awkward way.
And just like that, she realized: sometimes, feelings are written between the lines, in messy notebooks, in poems no one else would ever notice.
later, The Girl Who Starts the Rumor…Apologizes
Ava wasn't expecting it.
The girl—the one who had started the rumor about her liking Noah just for a good grade—walked up to her in the hallway, eyes down, looking genuinely nervous.
"Hey… Ava," she said softly.
Ava froze. Oh great… confrontation time.
"I… I wanted to say I'm sorry," the girl continued. "I shouldn't have spread that stuff. It was… stupid. And mean. And I feel awful."
Ava blinked. She had been bracing for anger, for excuses, for the usual high-school drama. But this? This was different.
"Why… why now?" Ava asked cautiously.
The girl sighed. "Because… I talked to Noah. And he's been asking about you… for weeks. Like… really asking. I realized I was just making things worse for no reason."
Ava's heart skipped. She didn't say anything at first—she just let the words sink in.
"So… the rumor?" Ava whispered.
"Totally false," the girl admitted, cheeks red. "I shouldn't have said anything. I just… got jealous. And it was dumb."
Ava took a deep breath, feeling a strange relief wash over her. The tension that had been building for days—the whispers, the awkwardness with Noah, the silent treatment—suddenly felt lighter.
"Thanks for telling me," Ava said quietly. "Really. I… appreciate it."
The girl nodded, and for a moment, they just stood there—two girls, both a little awkward, both realizing that high-school drama didn't have to get ugly if people owned up to their mistakes.
And with that small apology, a big misunderstanding was cleared.
Noah didn't know yet that the rumor was resolved—but Ava felt lighter already. The path to talking, to clearing the air with him, had just opened.