Chapter 3: I Sat Everywhere Except Beside Him
If there was one thing Lily Hart remembered clearly from the comic, it was this:
She always sat beside Noah Blackwood.
Front row.
Closest seat.
Close enough to breathe the same air.
It was embarrassing.
So when Lily walked into the lecture hall and spotted the familiar scene—Noah already seated, long legs stretched casually, Amy Lawson standing beside him with a shy smile—she made a sharp turn.
Straight toward the middle row.
"Lily?" Mia whispered urgently. "Wrong direction."
"No," Lily said pleasantly, dropping her bag onto the seat beside Mia. "Right direction. I like this angle. Less neck strain."
Mia stared at her like she'd just announced she was moving to Mars. "You always sit up front. Beside Noah."
"Used to," Lily corrected, pulling out her notebook. "Past tense. Growth."
Mia slowly turned her head toward the front.
Noah Blackwood noticed.
Of course he noticed.
He noticed because Lily Hart was not sitting beside him.
The empty seat next to him felt… loud.
His eyes flicked briefly toward the middle row, where Lily was already chatting with Mia, smiling lazily, not even sparing him a glance.
Amy followed his gaze, frowning slightly. "Is something wrong?"
"No," Noah said automatically, forcing his eyes back to the board.
But his focus was gone.
Lunch was worse.
In the original plot, Lily would have appeared like clockwork, tray in hand, conveniently squeezing herself into Noah's table and subtly nudging Amy away.
This time?
Lily marched past them.
Didn't slow.
Didn't hesitate.
Didn't even look.
She sat with Mia and a few other girls near the window, legs crossed, laughing over something on Mia's phone.
Mia leaned closer. "You're really committing to this, huh?"
Lily took a bite of her food. "Committing to peace."
Noah's grip tightened around his fork.
Amy noticed. "Do you… want to sit somewhere else?"
"No," he said too quickly. Then, after a pause, "Why would I?"
He didn't know why the sight of Lily laughing—free, unbothered, unwatchful—irritated him.
Or why it felt wrong.
By the time the basketball match rolled around, Noah was sure.
This was a stunt.
A dramatic, long-term, poorly executed stunt.
Lily Hart had always been obvious. Loud in her affection. Predictable.
This?
This silence?
It had to be intentional.
The gym buzzed with excitement as the players ran onto the court. Cheers erupted immediately when Noah's name was announced.
He didn't look at the stands.
He didn't need to.
He knew Lily would be there—watching, cheering, eyes locked on him like always.
The whistle blew.
The game started.
And then—
"JASON! JASON! JASON!"
Noah froze mid-dribble.
That chant was not for him.
His eyes snapped toward the bleachers.
There Lily was, standing beside Mia, clapping enthusiastically, eyes bright with excitement.
For Jason Miller.
A forward. Decent-looking. Definitely not the male lead.
"You've got this!" Lily shouted, cupping her hands around her mouth. "That shot was amazing!"
Jason glanced up, surprised—then grinned and waved.
Noah missed the pass.
The crowd gasped.
His jaw clenched.
After the game, sweat clung to his skin as Noah left the locker room, towel slung over his shoulder.
He spotted Lily near the exit.
Laughing. Again.
That did it.
"Lily."
She turned—slowly.
"Yes?"
Her tone was neutral. Polite. Like he was a classmate. Nothing more.
His irritation flared. "Stop pulling these stunts."
She blinked. "Stunts?"
"You know exactly what I mean," he said coldly. "Ignoring me. Sitting elsewhere. Cheering for other guys. It won't make me notice you."
She stared at him for a long second.
Then she laughed.
Actually laughed.
"Oh," Lily said, wiping an imaginary tear. "You think this is about you?"
His brows furrowed. "Isn't it?"
She stepped closer—not in longing, not in desperation, but with calm confidence.
"Noah," she said lightly, "I have better things to do than plan my day around a man who isn't even my type."
His chest tightened.
"Believe it or not," she continued, smiling sweetly, "you're not the center of my universe."
She walked past him.
Left him standing there.
Confused.
Irritated.
And for the first time—
Watching her leave.