It was a small thing, but it hurt.
Pearl saw Sharon talking to another girl in class—just a classmate asking about art supplies—but the way the girl laughed, leaning in, made something cold twist in her chest.
She told herself it was nothing, that Sharon could talk to anyone, that it didn't matter.
But that evening, Pearl found herself sitting with May, poking at her juice box, trying not to look bothered.
"You like him," May teased gently.
Pearl's cheeks flushed. "I don't."
"Pearl," May said, raising an eyebrow.
Pearl sighed, leaning back. "I just… don't like seeing other people take his attention. Is that bad?"
"No," May smiled, "it means you care."
Meanwhile, across the campus, Sharon saw Pearl laughing with a boy from her science class, the boy showing her a meme on his phone. Her laughter echoed, bright, and Sharon felt his fingers tighten around his pencil.
He didn't understand why his chest felt tight, why he couldn't look away.
That night, as they texted, neither of them mentioned it. Instead, Pearl sent:
"Did you eat? Don't skip, okay?"
And Sharon replied:
"I didn't. But I will. Thanks, Star."
They didn't say it, but they both knew something unspoken was growing, quietly, between them.