The hallway smelled like floor cleaner and cheap perfume, the kind that tried too hard to cover up old lockers and teenage secrets. Mya hugged her books tighter to her chest as the final bell echoed through the school, a sound that always felt louder than it needed to be—like it was announcing her to the world.
She wasn't looking for him.
That was the lie she told herself.
Jordan leaned against locker 214 like he belonged there, one foot up, backpack slung low, smile easy. He always looked like that—too calm for someone who made her heart forget how to beat right. When his eyes met hers, the hallway blurred. Noise faded. Even the gossip girls nearby went quiet in her head.
"Hey, Mya," he said, pushing off the locker and walking toward her.
Her name sounded different in his voice. Softer. Dangerous.
"Hey," she replied, hoping he couldn't hear the way her voice wobbled.
They walked together without planning to, steps syncing naturally like they'd practiced. Outside, the late afternoon sun painted everything gold. Jordan kicked a pebble across the sidewalk, hands shoved into his hoodie pockets.
"You disappeared after the game last night," he said.
Mya swallowed. "Yeah. I just… needed air."
What she didn't say was I saw you laughing with her.
What she didn't say was I went home and cried into my pillow like I hated myself for caring.
Jordan slowed, then stopped completely. She turned to face him, heart pounding. He looked serious now, the playful edge gone.
"I wanted to text you," he said. "I should've."
"You didn't," she answered, not accusing—just honest.
Silence settled between them, heavy and fragile. The kind that could either break everything or change it forever.
"I like you," Jordan said suddenly. "Like… really like you. And I'm bad at saying the right things, but I don't want to mess this up."
Mya's breath caught. No one had ever said that to her so plainly. No games. No crowd. Just him and the truth standing between them.
"I'm scared," she admitted. "Every time I start to trust someone, it feels like I'm setting myself up to fall."
Jordan stepped closer, not touching her, but close enough that she felt the warmth of him. "Then fall with me," he said quietly. "If we fall, we don't do it alone."
Her heart cracked open right there on the sidewalk.
Mya smiled—small, real, brave. "Okay," she said.
And when he finally took her hand, it felt like something new had begun. Something fragile. Something terrifying.