I noticed him before I meant to.
That was the first mistake.
It wasn't anything dramatic at first—no slow-motion moment, no music playing in the background like in those stupid movies I pretend not to like. It was just… a glance. A normal, harmless glance that should have stayed exactly that.
But it didn't.
Because when my eyes landed on him, they lingered. Longer than they should have. Long enough for me to notice the details I had no business noticing—the way his sleeves were rolled just enough to show his wrists, the way he leaned back like he owned the space without even trying, the quiet confidence that didn't beg for attention but somehow demanded it anyway.
And worst of all?
He noticed me noticing him.
I looked away too quickly, like I'd been caught doing something wrong. Which was ridiculous, because I hadn't. Not really. People look at each other all the time. It meant nothing.
It should have meant nothing.
But for some reason, my heart picked up just a little. Just enough to annoy me.
I told myself to ignore it.
I told myself he was just another face, another stranger passing through my day. Someone I wouldn't remember by tomorrow. Someone who definitely wouldn't remember me.
That should have been the end of it.
It wasn't.
Because a few minutes later, when I finally let my guard down and looked up again—
He was still looking at me.
Not in a casual way. Not in the accidental, our-eyes-met-for-a-second kind of way.
No.
This was different.
Intentional.
Like he hadn't looked away at all.
My chest tightened, and I hated the way my body reacted before my mind could catch up. There was something unsettling about being seen like that. Like he was trying to figure me out without asking a single question.
I frowned, just slightly, hoping it would send a clear enough message: stop looking at me
Instead, the corner of his mouth lifted
Not a full smile. Just enough to make it worse.
That was mistake number two.
Because something about that almost-smile made it impossible to look away this time.
I held his gaze longer than I should have, longer than was safe. And in that stretched-out second, something unspoken passed between us. Something I couldn't explain and didn't want to.
My stomach flipped—annoyingly, traitorously.
I broke eye contact first.
Of course I did.
I exhaled slowly, trying to steady myself, trying to act like nothing had just happened. But it had. I could feel it sitting heavy in my chest, like a warning I wasn't ready to listen to.
This is nothing, I told myself. You're overthinking it.
Maybe I was.
But when I stood up to leave, gathering my things with more urgency than necessary, I could feel his eyes on me again. Following me. Not in a creepy way—if anything, it was worse.
It felt… deliberate.
Like he wanted me to know.
I didn't look back.
I refused to give him that satisfaction.
Still, my steps slowed just slightly as I reached the door, my hand hovering for a fraction of a second before pushing it open. And for reasons I couldn't explain, I hesitated.
Just for a moment.
Just long enough to wonder
What would happen if I turned around
I didn't.
That would have been another mistake.
And I had already made enough for one day.