I spent the whole afternoon pretending to care about homework, but I couldn't shake the image of Luka. His face, the way he unfolded my paper plane so carefully, the way his fingers lingered on the note just a second longer than I expected. I tried to concentrate on algebra, but every time I looked at the page, all I saw were the words I'd written to him. If you could say one thing without fear, what would it be?
What if he didn't respond? What if he thought I was weird, or worse, crazy? I wasn't even sure why I'd done it. I mean, I was a crazy girl, we were total opposites. I wasn't supposed to send strange, secret messages to the one person I couldn't stop thinking about.
I shook my head and pushed the thoughts aside. It was probably nothing. He probably tossed the paper plane in the trash as soon as class ended.
But then I saw it.
The next day at lunch, I sat at my usual spot by the window, writing and scribbling in my notebook and trying to ignore the bustle of my friends talking about who was going to ask who out on valentines day. I wasn't interested in all that - not when I still couldn't figure out how to talk to Luka, much less be noticed by him in the way I wanted.
Then I felt it. A shift in the air. Someone was standing in front of me. I looked up, startled, and there he was.
Luka Novak. Right in front of me. Holding out a crumpled paper plane.
My heart stopped. My stomach twisted, and for a moment, I didn't know whether to smile or hide. I didn't even know if I could breathe.
He didn't say anything. Just stood there, his expression a little guarded, his hands holding the plane like it was the most normal thing in the world.
I blinked at him, not sure if he was joking. "What-"
"You wrote something," he said, his voice low and a little nervous. "So... I thought I'd... respond."
I reached for the paper plane, barely able to keep my hand from trembling. As soon as my fingers touched it, I realized I was holding onto something fragile - something that wasn't just paper, but a connection. A small, unspoken bridge between us.
I unfolded the note quickly, not even bothering to try and make it look neat. My eyes darted over the words.
"If I could say one thing without fear..."
I paused, my heart pounding as I read.
"I would say that I don't want to be alone."
The words hit me harder than I expected. I stared at them for a long time, my breath shallow. He didn't want to be alone? Was that what I had wanted to hear, too?
I thought about it for a long moment. What did that mean? He wasn't talking about grades or school projects. He wasn't talking about the stupid things we'd all say to make small talk. This felt different. Like a secret.
"Why... why didn't you just say that?" I asked, suddenly realizing how soft my voice had become, how much it wavered.
He shrugged, awkwardly running a hand through his hair. "I don't really... talk much. Not like everyone else. But I guess I'm trying."
I blinked at him, still processing his words. So, this was it. Luka Novak, the guy who was so good at everything, who could answer every math problem without breaking a sweat, who always had his head in his books - and he was just like me. He didn't want to be alone either.
I bit my lip, trying to gather my thoughts. This was it. This was where I had to decide whether to say something more or just let the moment slip away. The silence between us felt loud, so loud that I could hear the faint beating of my heart.
And then, without thinking, I did something I hadn't planned.
I smiled. Not a big smile. A small, quiet one. But it was real. And I knew it wasn't just for him. It was for me, too.
"I don't think you're alone," I said softly, looking up at him. "Not anymore."
Luka's eyes softened, and for a brief moment, he didn't look so serious. He looked... human. Like he'd just been waiting for someone to notice. Or maybe, like he was finally seeing me in the same way I was seeing him.
The bell rang. Luka gave me a half-smile, awkward but sincere, and then he turned, disappearing into the crowd. I sat there for a long moment, staring at the crumpled paper plane in my hands.
It was just a note. Just a simple, vulnerable note. But it meant everything to me.
And as I folded the plane up again and tucked it into my notebook, I couldn't help but wonder what might come next. What else could we say to each other, if we didn't have to hide behind silence anymore?