The first real snow of the season fell on a Thursday in mid-December, blanketing Eastwood High in a hushed white that muffled footsteps in the halls and turned the parking lot into a slow-motion chaos of sliding tires and shouted warnings. Inside, the building smelled like wet boots, pine-scented candles from the office holiday display, and the perpetual burnt-popcorn aroma from the teachers' lounge microwave. Everyone was coasting toward winter break—teachers handing out review packets they knew no one would touch, students trading secret Santa gifts and making half-hearted plans for parties that might or might not happen.
Lydia felt the shift in the air more than anyone. Ever since Thomas's text the night before, her nerves had been humming like a live wire. She replayed his words constantly: Raymond likes you. A lot. Has for weeks. She'd barely slept, alternating between giddy daydreams and waves of anxiety. What if Thomas was wrong? What if Raymond found out she still liked him and it made everything awkward forever?
So when she spotted Raymond in the hall before first period—standing by his locker, snow melting in his dark hair—she panicked. Instead of the casual "hey" she'd practiced in her head, she ducked into the nearest girls' bathroom and waited until the bell rang.
Cowardly? Maybe. But she wasn't ready.
Cynthia noticed immediately at their lockers.
"You okay? You look like you saw a ghost."
Lydia forced a laugh, spinning her combination too fast and having to start over. "Just tired. Late night scrolling scholarships."
Cynthia eyed her suspiciously but let it drop. "Well, fuel up. I brought extra hazelnut creamer for your coffee."
They walked to class arm-in-arm, the way they had every day since their movie-night reconciliation. Lydia clung to that normalcy like a life raft.
At lunch, the group gathered as usual. Thomas arrived with his typical loud energy, Julius trailing quietly behind him, Jack already at the table saving seats with his backpack. Raymond came last, carrying his tray and nodding hello to everyone.
Lydia's heart jumped when his eyes landed on her—just a second longer than usual, soft and questioning. She looked down at her sandwich quickly, pretending intense interest in the crusts.
Thomas, of course, noticed everything.
He slid into the seat across from her, kicking her lightly under the table. When she glanced up, he raised an eyebrow and mouthed: "Talk to him."
Lydia shook her head almost imperceptibly, eyes wide. Not yet.
Thomas sighed but didn't push—at least not visibly.
Conversation flowed around the table: Cynthia ranting about a biology project, Jack sharing a funny story from soccer practice, Julius actually laughing at something Thomas said. Raymond contributed here and there, his voice calm as always, but Lydia felt his attention on her more than once. Every time she risked a glance, he was either looking at her or quickly looking away.
It was torture.
After school, Thomas didn't waste time.
He caught her in the parking lot as she and Cynthia headed to her car.
"Cyn, give us two minutes?" he asked, flashing his most charming grin.
Cynthia glanced between them, curious, but shrugged. "Fine. But don't freeze—I'm not scraping windows alone." She climbed into the passenger seat to wait.
Thomas leaned against Lydia's car, hands in his pockets. "So. You avoided him all day."
Lydia groaned, breath fogging in the cold air. "I know. I panicked."
"He noticed," Thomas said gently. "Kept looking over like a lost puppy. I didn't tell him anything yet—like you asked—but he knows something's up."
Lydia pulled her coat tighter. "I'm not ready. What if it goes wrong? What if he doesn't actually like me and Thomas just thinks he does? Or what if he does and then it's weird forever?"
Thomas exhaled, watching his breath cloud. "Lyd, I've known Raymond since we were twelve. He doesn't look at anyone the way he looks at you. Not even close. But he's also stubborn and overthinks everything. If you wait for him to make the first move, we'll all be in college before it happens."
"I know," she whispered. "I just… need a little more time."
Thomas nodded. "Okay. I won't push him. Or tell him. But don't wait forever, yeah? The guy's suffering."
Lydia managed a small smile. "Thanks for not meddling more than you already have."
"Please. This is me being restrained." He grinned, then sobered. "For real though—if you change your mind and want me to nudge things along, say the word."
"I will."
He headed to his Jeep, leaving her to join Cynthia.
Inside the warm car, Cynthia immediately pounced. "Spill. What was that about?"
Lydia started the engine, letting it idle. "Thomas being Thomas. Trying to play matchmaker."
"With who?" Cynthia's eyes widened. "Wait—Raymond?"
Lydia nodded, cheeks burning even in the cold car.
Cynthia squealed. "I knew it! The way he looks at you now? Total heart eyes. When did this happen?"
"Thomas texted me last night. Said Raymond likes me but won't do anything about it."
"And you're…?" Cynthia prompted.
"Freaking out," Lydia admitted. "I still like him. A lot. But I'm scared."
Cynthia reached over and squeezed her hand. "That's normal. But you two would be adorable. And if it doesn't work? We survive. We're unbreakable, remember?"
Lydia smiled. "Yeah."
Across the parking lot, Raymond stood by Thomas's Jeep, watching Lydia's car pull away. He hadn't heard the conversation, but he'd seen Thomas talking to her—serious, not joking around.
"What was that about?" he asked as Thomas approached.
Thomas shrugged casually. "Just checking on her bio project. She's stressed."
Raymond nodded slowly, but his eyes stayed on the taillights disappearing down the snowy street.
"You sure?"
"Yeah," Thomas lied smoothly. "Everything's fine."
Raymond didn't push, but the uncertainty lingered.
That night, Lydia lay in bed staring at her phone. She opened her messages with Thomas three times, typing and deleting variations of "Tell him." Each time, she closed the app.
Not yet.
She wasn't sure what she was waiting for—a sign, courage, the perfect moment. But for now, the space between them stayed filled with almosts and maybes.
At school the next day, the pattern continued.
Raymond tried—small things. Holding the door for her in the hall and letting his hand brush hers accidentally-on-purpose. Asking her opinion on a debate topic during club, voice softer than usual. Sitting one seat closer at lunch.
Lydia responded with smiles and quick answers, but always pulled back before it could turn into more. She'd catch Cynthia's encouraging looks, Thomas's frustrated ones, even Jack's knowing grin.
Julius, who'd warmed up considerably since Jack opened up about his family, just shook his head like he couldn't believe how oblivious everyone was.
By Friday, the tension was palpable—to everyone except the two people causing it.
Thomas cornered Lydia one last time before break.
"Last chance before two weeks of radio silence," he said in the hall. "You sure you don't want me to say something?"
Lydia took a deep breath, watching Raymond down the hall laughing at something Julius said. His smile—real, unguarded—made her chest ache.
"Not yet," she said quietly. "After break. I'll be ready then."
Thomas sighed but nodded. "Okay. But I'm holding you to that."
As the final bell rang and everyone spilled out into the snowy afternoon—hugs goodbye, promises to text over break—Lydia caught Raymond's eye one last time.
He smiled at her, small and hopeful.
She smiled back, heart racing.
Soon.
Just not today.
The snow kept falling, covering everything in quiet white. And the space between them stayed—charged, waiting, full of possibility.