The air outside the classroom was different—thicker somehow, charged with the mingling energies of students spilling into the hallway. Chatter buzzed like static, but I barely noticed. Nia's arm remained looped through mine, guiding me with surprising ease through the growing crowd.
"She's not very talkative, is she?" someone muttered behind us.
"Probably just new," another voice offered.
I kept walking, head high, face unreadable.
We followed the tide of students to a wide open space just beyond the stairwell. Notice boards lined the walls, plastered with reminders of club meetings, bright flyers, and cheerful slogans that seemed to mock my mood. But what caught everyone's attention was the low platform set up near the end of the corridor, surrounded by teachers and older students already dressed in spotless uniforms.
"Ceremony time," Nia whispered with a hint of sarcasm. "They're about to appoint the student leaders. Big deal around here."
I nodded slightly, though my thoughts were still stuck back in the classroom—in that moment of eye contact I couldn't unsee. Reggie's face kept floating back into my mind, like a memory trying to surface through fog.
He had changed. Or maybe it was just me who had.
"It's so obvious who they'll pick," Nia said, rolling her eyes. "Like the famous Reggie. Head of Sports? Please. He basically lives on that court. And with that face?" She scoffed playfully. "He could charm the posters off the wall."
"Yeah, Reggie—why not?" I thought.
It sounded just like him to be head of something. He had the looks, the height, the charisma, and the brains. He was just… too clean.
It replayed lightly in my head. But it also felt too heavy for now—for whatever existed in this silent space between us, thick with things we hadn't said.
"He's in twelfth, right?" I asked, as if I didn't already know.
"Yeah. Final year. They love him here. Teachers, juniors, parents. Everyone eats him up," she said, not unkindly. "You know him?"
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Then settled on, "Yeah," before I looked away, unconcerned. Thankfully, Nia didn't probe further about how I knew him.
She nodded, sensing that was the end of it—for now.
The principal stepped onto the platform, flanked by two seniors holding clipboards and an air of authority. The murmur quieted. Even the troublemakers held their tongues.
"Welcome back, students," the principal began. "Today, as is our tradition, we appoint the new student leaders who will represent Finrod High this academic year…"
I tuned out most of it. The same lines every school polished and repeated like a hymn—growth, leadership, excellence. But I stayed still, listening to the names roll out, applause rippling through the crowd with each announcement.
Then:
"Head of Sports – Reginald Anders."
The reaction was immediate. Louder than polite. Unapologetically proud.
Girls squealed. Boys clapped. Someone near me said, "Of course."
Reggie appeared from the edge of the crowd, easy and unhurried. His blazer was unbuttoned, tie casually loosened, as if he'd just strolled in from somewhere more important. But there was no mistaking it—he owned the space the second he stepped up.
Even the teachers smiled.
He gave a modest bow, that familiar lopsided grin tugging at his lips. And then, as if drawn by instinct, his eyes swept the crowd and locked onto mine.
They didn't flicker. Didn't question.
He knew exactly where I was.
For one full breath, we held that gaze.
Then he smiled again—slower this time, not showy. Almost like he was saying there you are. The kind of smile you give someone you've missed but won't admit it out loud.
I looked away first.
I always did.
More names followed. More applause. I barely heard any of them.
It was like I was split in two—half standing here with Nia and the rest of the school, the other half still back in time, sitting next to Reggie on my bedroom floor, sharing secrets through laughter and silence.
And now... this.
When the ceremony ended, students began to scatter again, buzzing with opinions.
"He totally deserves it," someone gushed. "Reggie is just—ugh, perfect."
"Wonder if he's single this year."
"Doubt it. Reggie's never single, he just rotates."
Nia rolled her eyes and tugged my sleeve. "Come on. We've got five minutes before the next class. I'll show you where people go when they want to breathe."
She led me through a quieter hallway and down a short stairwell into a tucked-away courtyard behind the admin block. Tall trees provided shade, and a few students lounged on benches or lay on the grass, their laughter a little softer here.
"This is my sanctuary," Nia announced proudly. "No drama. No gossip. Just air."
I sat on a bench, letting the breeze cool the heat behind my eyes. I hadn't realized how tight my chest had been until now.
"I know today's probably felt like a movie—and not the fun kind," Nia said after a moment. "But you survived it. That's something."
I gave her a faint smile.
"So, Reggie," she continued carefully, "you said you know him?" she asked slowly, not trying to sound desperate.
"Yeah. Family friends," I said curtly, not wanting to say more.
"Wow. That's cool," she replied, looking at me with slight surprise.
The bell rang again.
We stood.
As we headed back upstairs, I felt it again—that strange weight of being seen. Not by the crowd. Not by Nia.
But by someone who used to know my heart like it was his own.