As the days followed, I realized something uncomfortable about myself.
I was scared.
Not the kind of scared where your legs shake or your heart beats fast like in movies. It was quieter than that. The kind of fear that makes you delay things. The kind that convinces you that tomorrow is always better than today.
Every morning, I told myself I would talk to her. Nothing serious. Just a greeting. A normal conversation. The kind people have every day without writing novels about it later in life.
But every morning ended the same way.
I saw her.
And suddenly, my confidence disappeared like it had never existed.
It annoyed me because I didn't understand it. I had already embarrassed myself in bigger ways in life. I had failed exams people expected me to pass. I had sat at home wondering what my future would look like. Compared to that, talking to a girl should have been easy.
Yet there I was.
Completely useless.
In class, I tried not to stare too much. I didn't want to be that guy. So I focused on my notes, on the board, on literally anything else. Still, my eyes betrayed me from time to time. She wasn't doing anything special. She was just… there. Listening, writing, sometimes laughing quietly with classmates.
And that was enough.
During breaks, I watched opportunities pass. I'd see her standing with friends and think, Okay, maybe not now. Then she'd sit alone for a few minutes, and I'd think, Okay, maybe now. Then someone else would show up, and the moment would be gone.
At home, it got worse.
I replayed the day in my head like a poorly edited movie. Every missed chance felt louder at night. I'd lie on my bed, staring at the ceiling, asking myself questions I couldn't answer.
How was it possible that I was shy around her?
Since when did I become like this?
Was I really afraid of a simple conversation?
Sometimes I laughed at myself.
Other times, I sighed and turned to the wall like the wall had answers.
After a few days of this nonsense, I accepted a hard truth.
I needed help.
There was no shame in it. At least, that's what I told myself.
There was this guy I knew, Emma. He wasn't loud or arrogant, just naturally confident. The type who could start a conversation anywhere and somehow make it comfortable. If social interaction were a subject, Emma would've passed without studying.
During one of our breaks, I walked up to him.
"Bro," I said, trying to sound casual, "I need help with something."
He looked at me and smiled.
"Help with what?"
I hesitated for a second, then nodded toward Precious.
He followed my gaze and laughed immediately.
"Ohhh," he said. "So this is it."
I rubbed my face.
"Don't laugh."
"I'm not laughing at you," he said. "Okay, maybe a little."
I explained everything — how I couldn't talk to her, how my mouth stopped working whenever she was close, how I kept overthinking every small thing.
Emma listened patiently.
"So you want me to introduce her to you?" he asked.
"Yes," I said quickly. "Just that. Nothing more."
He nodded.
"Alright. I can do that."
The relief I felt was almost embarrassing.
When break time came again, Emma stood up and stretched like this was just another normal task. Meanwhile, I felt like I was walking to write an exam I hadn't studied for.
We walked toward her.
Every step felt heavier. Not dramatic — just uncomfortable. I became suddenly aware of my hands, my posture, my face. I wondered if I was walking strangely. I wondered if my uniform looked wrong. I wondered why my brain had chosen now to start criticizing my entire existence.
Emma greeted her first.
"Hey," he said casually.
She looked up and smiled.
"Hi."
"This is my friend," Emma said, pointing at me. "He's new here."
She turned to me.
"And what's your name?"
That was it.
The moment.
All the sentences I had practiced vanished. No jokes. No clever introduction. Nothing.
So I said the only thing left.
"I'm Elvis."
She smiled lightly.
"Nice to meet you, Elvis."
And just like that, the world didn't end.
Emma continued the conversation, asking her about class, about where she was from. I stood there, listening more than speaking, occasionally nodding or adding a short reply. I wasn't smooth. I wasn't confident. But I was present.
That alone felt like progress.
When break ended and we returned to class, I sat down and exhaled slowly.
I hadn't said much.
But at least now, she knew my name.
And for me, that was enough for the day.