The bus ride felt longer than normal.
I kept replaying everything
Her smile.
His reaction.
The way he said, "I was checking."
I leaned my head against the window.
Closed my eyes.
Why does this bother me?
I don't even like him.
Right?
By the time I reached home, my head felt heavy.
Too many thoughts.
Too many questions.
I changed into something comfortable and sat down on the floor.
I took my unfinished crochet project in my hands and started finishing it.
One loop.
Pull through.
Another.
The rhythm came back quickly.
It always did.
Crocheting was simple.
Predictable.
Unlike people.
I focused on the pattern.
A small flower this time.
Soft stitches.
Even tension.
But my mind didn't stay quiet for long.
"Just wanted to see if you care."
I tightened the yarn too much.
I sighed, loosening it again.
Why did he do that?
Why does it matter to me?
My phone buzzed,
I ignored it.
It buzzed again,
I exhaled and picked it up.
Unknown number: "You got home?"
"It's Ethan, by the way."
She stared at his name on the screen.
She didn't remember giving him her number.
...but she must have, right?
I saved his number.
Ivy: "Yeah."
Typing...
Ethan: "You were quiet today."
I paused.
"I'm always quiet."
A few seconds passed.
"Not like that."
I didn't reply.
Another message came.
Ethan:
"You didn't like her."
I froze.
My fingers hovered over the screen.
Ivy:
"Don't start."
Typing...
Stopped.
Typing again.
Ethan:
"I told you, I was just checking."
My chest tightened slightly.
Ivy:
"That's weird."
A pause.
Ethan:
"You still cared."
I stared at that message longer than I should have.
Then I locked my phone.
Put it aside.
Picked up the yarn again.
But the rhythm was gone.
Because now—
even in my quiet—
He was there too.
I woke up earlier than usual.
I didn't even need an alarm.
For a moment, I just lay there.
Staring at the ceiling.
Then—
My mind went back to last night.
His messages.
His words.
You still cared.
I sat up quickly.
No.
I'm not doing this.
I got ready without thinking too much.
But when I reached class—
I still looked for him.
And there he was.
Already sitting there.
Like always.
"Hey, pretty."
I sat a bit far from him
"Hi"
He noticed, "You're avoiding me."
"I'm not."
"You are."
I opened my notebook.
"I just want to focus today."
He leaned back.
"In class?"
"Yes."
"Or on not reacting?"
I didn't answer.
"Ethan"
I knew that voice. It was her again.
"Can you help me again?" she asked, smirking at me.
I kept my eyes on my notebook.
This time—
I wouldn't react.
Ethan didn't move immediately.
Then—
"Go ask someone else."
I blinked.
I looked at him in shock.
There was a small pause.
"wow" she said, almost laughing, "okay."
I could feel her eyes on me.
I didn't look back.
After a few seconds—
She walked away.
Silence.
"You didn't have to do that," I said quietly.
"I wanted to."
I finally looked at him.
"Why?"
He held my gaze.
"Because I meant what I said yesterday."
My chest felt tight again.
"And what was that?" I asked.
He leaned slightly closer.
"That I wanted to see if you care."
I looked away.
"And?" I asked, raising my eyebrows
He leaned back a little bit, then looked right at me, "You do."
I gripped my pen tighter.
"That doesn't mean anything."
"It means something to me."
That made me look at him again.
"Why?"
He smiled slightly.
"Because I like it when you do."
I didn't know what to say to that.
So I didn't.
I just looked back at my notebook.
But I wasn't reading anymore.
Because now—
Everything felt louder again.
Her presence behind me.
His presence next to me.
His words in my head.
And no matter how much I tried—
I couldn't pretend it didn't affect me.
I suddenly remembered the number.
"Ethan, can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
I hesitated.
Then—
"When did I give you my number?"
Silence.
Not long.
Just enough.
But I noticed it.
"You did," he said.
"When?"
He leaned back slightly.
"Why does it matter?"
"Because I want to know."
He looked at me.
"You gave it to me after class," he said casually.
"I asked for your notes, remember?"
I frowned.
I remembered giving him my notebook.
Not my number.
"I don't remember that."
He smiled slightly.
"You overthink too much."
That didn't answer my question.
"Ivy," he said softly, "if you didn't want me to have it, you wouldn't have given it."
That sounded right.
But it didn't feel right.
I nodded anyway.
"Yeah... maybe."
"See?" he said. "Nothing weird."
Nothing weird.
Then why did it feel like there was?
I tried to focus.
I really did.
But I kept thinking about it.
The gap in my memory.
The way he answered.
Too smooth.
Too easy.