Author's Note: Please note this is NOT related to any of the previous one-shots in this book. This is another alternate universe fic that features Meerab x Murtasim in high school in the USA. They're both in senior year.

Summary: Murtasim has a little crush...if something all consuming could be called little.  

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Murtasim Khan

Echo Valley High School, USA

Wednesday

9:00am – Calculus

Murtasim slouched in his seat, pretending to focus on his Calculus test. From the corner of his eye, he watched her. Her brow was furrowed in concentration as she worked through the problems. His gaze lingered on her hands as they moved with the speed and precision of a concert pianist during Calculus class. Her fingers danced across the paper like they had a vendetta against it, furiously scribbling down answers.

The moment the test landed in front of her, she transformed into a machine, processing each question with unerring accuracy. While other students fumbled through pages, wearing expressions of sheer panic that could rival contestants on a survival show, she tackled each problem in order, like a relentless academic terminator. It was as if the equations were written in a language only she and extraterrestrial beings could understand.

Meerab Ahmed was brilliant.

Everyone in the school knew she was a straight-A student. Not because she broadcasted it—modesty was her middle name—but because the teachers never missed a chance to sing her praises, as if they were members of the Meerab Fan Club. They practically threw confetti every time she aced a test, and her name was synonymous with perfection. She often ended up tutoring those unfortunate souls who believed algebra was a form of dark magic.

Murtasim's eyes were glued to her, watching as she absentmindedly tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She shifted in her seat, and then let out a sigh. She took the hair tie from her wrist, raising her arms to gather her long hair into a ponytail. As she did, her chest pushed forward, her shirt riding up slightly to reveal a glimpse of her smooth, lower back.

His heart skipped a beat, heat rushing through him and pooling in his groin as images flashed through his mind. He felt a sudden, intense pressure building, and panic flickered through his mind. Quickly, he tore his eyes away, staring down at his test with fierce determination. He couldn't afford to have a hard-on right now, not in the middle of Calculus class, surrounded by his classmates. His face flushed, he forced himself to focus on the equations in front of him, but his mind kept drifting back to the tantalizing image of her.

"Hey, Murtasim, what's the answer to number three?" his friend Jake whispered urgently from the next desk.

"Huh? Oh, it's, uh, x equals 5," Murtasim muttered, his mind still on Meerab.

He glanced back at her, noting how the light seemed to catch in her hair, giving it an almost halo-like glow. She was in the zone, completely oblivious to the chaos around her.

"Dude, you're a lifesaver," Jake whispered, scribbling down the answer. "I swear, this test is like trying to read hieroglyphics."

Murtasim hummed, though his thoughts were miles away.

Meerab shifted again, and he couldn't help but marvel at her focus. While the rest of the class was a mix of frantic scribbling and desperate glances at the clock, she was an island of calm, her pencil moving with practiced ease.

"I wish I was sitting beside the hot calculus ninja right about now," Jake muttered. "Meanwhile, I'm over here trying to remember what the fuck a cosine is."

Murtasim glared at his friend – there was no need to add the adjective hot before calculus ninja, she was his hot calculus ninja!

Meerab was effortlessly gorgeous. Beautiful. And kind. And so far out of his league it wasn't even funny. He sighed and forced himself to focus on his own test, though his thoughts kept drifting back to the girl across the room, the one who seemed to have it all figured out.

As the bell rang, signaling the end of the period and their test, Murtasim watched as Meerab gathered her things, her movements quick and efficient, handing in her test with a smile and rushing out of the room.

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12:00pm - Lunch

In the bustling cafeteria, Murtasim sat with his usual crowd, his eyes darting around until they landed on Meerab. She was moving from table to table, chatting animatedly with different groups of friends. Her laugh echoed through the room, a sound that made his heart ache with longing. It was like listening to music that was just out of reach.

One might have assumed that Meerab would be a shy bookworm or a haughty know-it-all, but she shattered all stereotypes. Her kindness and charm were like a gravitational pull, drawing people to her effortlessly. She was the President of the Student Council, Captain of the Debate Team, Editor-in-Chief of the school newspaper and part of the Biology Club, managing each role with the finesse of a circus ringmaster.

She got along with and talked to everyone.

Everyone, that is, except Murtasim.

He was convinced she harbored an intense disinterest for him, if not dislike. She seemed to avoid him at school as if he were a contagious disease. Maybe it was because he hung out with the "wrong crowd," the slackers and rebels who treated school like a state-mandated prison sentence. Meerab's disdain was palpable—her eye rolls in their direction were so dramatic they could have been choreographed.

The teachers shared her skepticism. They looked at him with the baffled curiosity usually reserved for cryptic crossword puzzles. They couldn't wrap their heads around how someone so seemingly aloof could score well. While he wasn't Meerab-level brilliant, he was no slouch either. Still, he kept his intellect under wraps, hiding it behind a façade of casual indifference. The "cool jock" image was a convenient mask that kept unwanted questions at bay.

His friends thought he was the epitome of cool. He preferred being envied to being pitied—envy was simpler, less messy.

"Dude, did you hear about the party at Brittany's place this weekend?" Akash asked, nudging him.

"Huh? Yeah, sounds cool," Murtasim replied absentmindedly, his attention fixed on Meerab. She was at a nearby table now, leaning in to listen to someone's story, her face lighting up with a smile.

"You're not even listening," Jake sighed. "What's got you so distracted?"

"Nothing, just... calculus," Murtasim lied, forcing a smile.

As Meerab moved closer to his table, Murtasim's pulse quickened. She glanced his way for a split second, and he wondered if she saw him. He quickly looked down at his tray, pretending to be engrossed in his lunch.

"Is that what you call her now?" Saad muttered quietly before he took a bite of his pizza, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Murtasim glared at him – he was too perceptive for his own good.

"Damnnnnnn, now that's a view." Andrew whistled from beside Murtasim, Murtasim looked at him and then followed his gaze – Meerab was leaning over the table, helping her friend who was scribbling something onto her notebook, her ass towards them.

"Seriously, she's got the best ass in the whole school," Andrew said, grinning.

Murtasim's jaw tightened. "Shut up, Andrew," he seethed.

"What? Just stating facts," Andrew replied, unbothered.

Akash joined in, his eyes gleaming. "I love it when she's ahead of me on the stairs. Best view of the day, man."

Jake snickered, "No lie, no lie."

Murtasim felt a surge of anger, more than just possessive anger, he hated that they talked about her like that. His fists clenched under the table. "You guys are disgusting."

"Oh, come on, Murtasim. Like you don't think the same thing," Akash said, rolling his eyes.

Before Murtasim could respond, he "accidentally" knocked over the bottle of orange juice in front of Andrew, sending it splattering all over the table and onto Andrew's lap, as well as onto Akash's open assignment.

"What the fuck, dude?!" Andrew yelled as the orange juice soaked his jeans.

"Ah, shit! My assignment!" Akash groaned, frantically trying to salvage the dripping papers.

"Oh shit, sorry man, I didn't notice," Murtasim said, trying to keep a straight face while a smug satisfaction bubbled up inside him.

Saad snickered from across the table. "Smooth move, Romeo," he whispered, shaking his head.

Murtasim ignored him, his eyes drifting back to Meerab.

She had moved on to another table, her back turned to him.

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1:00pm – English

Murtasim sat in the back row of the English classroom, his eyes fixed on Meerab as she sat a few rows ahead. She was chewing on her pen, a habit she had always had, ever since he'd first seen her in their Grade 9 English class. It was something he found endearing, a small quirk that made her seem so much more human and relatable.

He had been smitten with her since then.

Back in Grade 9, she had boldly challenged their English teacher on the first day of school for "propelling gender stereotypes and misogyny" while he talked about the dresscode. It was like watching a superhero reveal their powers for the first time. In a classroom full of nodding sheep, Meerab was the lone wolf. While he often rolled his eyes at the teachers' mindless drivel, Meerab didn't just roll her eyes—she took aim and fired.

From that day on, he couldn't stop watching her, captivated by her. She was a force of nature, and he was hopelessly caught in her storm.

Today, they were discussing the themes of King Lear, and Murtasim knew she had a lot to say before Meerab even raised her hand. Mr. Johnson, their English teacher, nodded at her to speak.

"King Lear is a classic example of how literature can reinforce classist and misogynist ideologies," Meerab began, her voice clear and confident. "The way the characters treat women, especially Goneril and Regan, reduces them to mere pawns in a male-dominated world. And the obsession with lineage and inheritance only serves to perpetuate class divisions."

Murtasim watched her, his heart pounding. She was absolutely gorgeous when she was fired up, her eyes blazing with passion. A part of him wanted to join the Debate Club because he'd get to see her like that all the time.

She was even more gorgeous right then. He noticed how her long, black hair cascaded down her shoulders, catching the light in a way that made it seem almost auburn. Her expressive eyes, usually warm and full of life, were filled with fire.

Before Mr. Johnson could respond, Brian, a guy known for his contrarian views, jumped in. "I disagree," he said, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. "King Lear isn't misogynist. It's about power and betrayal. Goneril and Regan aren't victims - they're just as power-hungry and ruthless as the men. They're not pawns - they're players in the game."

Meerab turned to face Brian, her eyes narrowing into a glare. "That's exactly the point, Bri-an." He loved it when she condescendingly said people's names. "They have to become ruthless because that's the only way they can navigate a patriarchal society. Their ambitions are demonized in ways that male ambition isn't. And let's not forget Cordelia, who's idealized for her obedience and silence. It's a clear double standard."

Brian rolled his eyes. "Or maybe it's just a story about dysfunctional families and bad decisions, regardless of gender."

Meerab's voice grew sharper, each word deliberate. "By ignoring the gender dynamics, you're missing something very important. Shakespeare wasn't writing in a vacuum. The way women are portrayed reflects societal attitudes of his time, which, sadly, are still relevant today."

Mr. Johnson stepped in, sensing the escalating tension. "Both of you bring up valid points. Literature is meant to be interpreted in multiple ways. Anyone else?"

Murtasim felt a swell of admiration as Meerab turned back to her seat, sighing.

He wasn't sure if he should punch Brian for pissing her off, or give him a fist-bump for it.

Saad, sitting next to Murtasim, nudged him. "Man, she's something else, huh?"

"Yeah," Murtasim replied softly, his eyes never leaving Meerab.

Saad chuckled. "You've got it so bad."

Murtasim sighed. "Say a word to anyone and I'll end your life."

Saad snickered, "I still don't get how people don't see right through you. You look like you're going to drop down on one knee and propose to her."

"Shut up," Murtasim hissed, a slight blush creeping up his neck.

"Seriously, dude. You've got that sappy, dreamy look on your face every time you see her. It's cwingeeeee," Saad teased, elbowing him.

"Yeah, well, at least I'm not the one who got friend-zoned by half the cheerleading squad," Murtasim shot back, a smirk playing on his lips.

Saad laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Touché. But still, man, you should just talk to her. What's the worst that could happen?"

Murtasim rolled his eyes. "She could reject me in front of the whole school, for one."

"Or, she could say yes, and you'd stop being a lovesick puppy," Saad countered, grinning.

"Shut up and let me dream," Murtasim muttered.

As the class continued, Murtasim tried to focus on the lesson, but his gaze kept drifting back to Meerab. The bell rang, signaling the end of the period. As students began to pack up, Meerab stood and glanced back, her eyes meeting Murtasim's for a brief moment before she looked away again.

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3:00pm – Gym Class

Her tits bounced so perfectly when she ran – fuck, he hated gym class.

Of all the classes he could have had with her, why gym class?

It was designed to torture him in the most exquisite ways.

First, he was a teenage boy with a very vivid imagination watching his crush run around in shorts and a t-shirt.

Second, everyone else noticed her too, and he felt an almost primal aggression during gym time.

He had punched a guy, thrown a basketball right in another's face, kicked a soccer ball between someone's legs, and spiked the volleyball hard on Andrew's head multiple times, and the year had just started.

It hadn't always been like that.

Somewhere between Grade 9 and Grade 10, his casual admiration had morphed into a consuming desire. He found himself daydreaming about her during classes, his mind wandering to places he knew it shouldn't.

He imagined what it would be like to kiss her, not just a peck but a deep, lingering kiss that left them both breathless.

He fantasized about touching her, feeling the warmth of her skin under his fingertips, tracing the delicate curve of her jaw, the softness of her lips, the way her body might respond to his touch.

He wanted to touch her, and kiss her, everywhere. His mind raced as he pictured running his hands over the gentle swell of her breasts, feeling their soft firmness, and trailing kisses down her neck, tasting her skin. He imagined the way her body might respond to his touch, her breath hitching, her back arching, her lips parting in a soft moan.

He yearned to feel her presence beside him, her breath mingling with his, the intoxicating scent of her hair filling his senses. The mere thought of her drove him wild. Every glance she threw his way, every accidental brush of their hands, sent a jolt of electricity through his body, straight to his groin.

He knew he was not alone in these thoughts - most of their male classmates with a pulse seemed to share his sentiments, their eyes following her. But for Murtasim, the feelings grew deeper and more complex, intertwining with his very being, making it impossible to think of anything else.

So, it wasn't the same. He was not like the other teenagers around him. Not at all.

By the time he entered Grade 12, his crush had become overwhelming.

It was no longer just about physical attraction. He fantasized about sneaking in kisses between classes, holding her hand under the table during lunch, doing homework together, buying her flowers just to see her smile, forcing her to take breaks from studying, hugging her when she got that overwhelmed look on her face when she was studying for a test. He imagined spending hours on the phone, talking about everything and nothing, and cuddling with her on lazy afternoons. These thoughts, filled with tenderness and longing, were far from the typical teenage fantasies.

If he told someone about his thoughts, he'd be branded a sap, a loser. He was thinking about all that sappy stuff that men weren't supposed to think about according to society's standards. But he couldn't help it. His feelings for Meerab had transcended the superficial and plunged into something deeper, something more profound.

She was everything he wanted. He cared for her. But he was still a teenage boy with a crush on a gorgeous woman.

So, each time the gym teacher announced they'd be playing a game that involved running, Murtasim's heart sank and raced simultaneously. Today was no different. Basketball. He glanced over at Meerab, who was tying her shoelaces, her ponytail swinging with the motion. The sight of her, so effortlessly beautiful, was enough to make him forget his own name.

She jogged onto the court beside his – they always divided the sexes for good reason, he wouldn't trust teenage boys either. Murtasim's eyes followed her every move as she played on the court beside his. Her t-shirt clung to her in all the right places, and those damn shorts made her legs look endless. Every time she jumped or sprinted, her tits bounced in a way that made it hard to focus on anything else.

"Come on, Khan! Get your head in the game!" The gym teacher – also the coach for half their varsity teams - yelled, snapping him back to reality.

Murtasim groaned inwardly.

How was he supposed to concentrate when his dream girl was a constant distraction?

During the first play, Meerab dashed past him on the adjacent court, her laughter like a sweet melody in his ears. He turned, only to see Jake ogling her as well.

He passed the ball to Jake with a little more force than necessary, causing him to fumble.

"Focus on the game," Murtasim growled, his eyes narrowing as he watched another guy make a comment about Meerab's legs. The aggressive urge to protect her reputation—and her body—boiled within him.

His focus was definitely not on the game.

He was watching Meerab as she stole the ball from some girl and sprinted across the court. Her hair bounced in rhythm with her steps, her form graceful and strong. His mind wandered, imagining what it would be like to run his hands through her hair.

"Yo, Murtasim! Heads up!" someone yelled. He turned just in time to catch the basketball before it slammed into his face. The guys snickered, and he felt his cheeks heat up, not from embarrassment, but from frustration – yet he still managed to shoot and sink a basket.

His attention went back to Meerab, she went for a layup, her shirt riding up slightly to reveal a glimpse of her toned stomach. He felt a familiar heat rush through him, settling uncomfortably low. He bit his lip, trying to maintain control, but the sight of her was driving him to the brink.

After a particularly intense round, they took a break.

Murtasim leaned against the wall, pretending to catch his breath. In reality, he was watching her sip from her water bottle, her lips wrapping around the nozzle in a way that made his pulse quicken. He imagined what it would be like to kiss those lips, to feel her pressed against him.

"You're drooling a little, right here." Saad snickered as he walked by him.

"Shut up, you ass."

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5:00pm – Soccer Practice

Murtasim stood on the soccer field, arms crossed and whistle dangling from his neck. As the team captain, he had a reputation to uphold. Today, however, he had an extra chip on his shoulder. He had it out for three people – the ones who made crude comment about Meerab, a match had been struck inside him, igniting his fury.

Murtasim paced back and forth, watching the guys attempt to warm up.

Andrew, Jake, and Akash were goofing around, probably about to say something to piss him off again.

"Alright, listen up!" he barked, his voice carrying across the field. "We're starting with sprints. Everyone, line up!"

The guys groaned but obeyed, lining up at the start line. Murtasim blew his whistle and they took off, legs pumping furiously.

His eyes locked on Jake, who had been particularly annoying – he had called Meerab a hot calculus ninja and had been ogling her all throughout gym class.

"Faster, Jake! What's the matter? Not enough energy after ogling Meerab all day?" Murtasim shouted, enjoying the way Jake's face flushed red.

Jake stumbled slightly but kept running. "Sorry, man!" he panted.

"Not sorry enough," Murtasim muttered under his breath.

He imagined Jake tripping and falling into a giant mud puddle, face-first. The thought brought a smile to his face.

Next up were passing drills. Murtasim set his sights on Andrew. The memory of Andrew's lecherous comments made his blood boil - Andrew had made crude remarks about her ass.

"Andrew, get over here!" Murtasim called. "You're on ball duty."

Andrew jogged over, looking a bit nervous. "Yeah, Captain?"

"Stand right there," Murtasim ordered, pointing to a spot a little too close for comfort. "Catch."

He kicked the ball with all his might, aiming it directly at Andrew's groin. It connected perfectly. Andrew's eyes widened in shock as he doubled over, gasping for breath.

"Seriously, she's got the best ass in the whole school," Murtasim mimicked in a high-pitched voice. "Still think so, Andrew?"

Andrew could only manage a pained groan in response.

Saad walked over, trying to stifle his laughter. "Dude, you're gonna kill someone."

"Not if they die first," Murtasim muttered darkly. His eyes then landed on Akash, who had the audacity to enjoy following Meerab up the stairs.

"Akash! You're up. Let's see how much you love running stairs," Murtasim called out. "Thirty sets. Go!"

Akash's eyes widened. "Thirty? Are you serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Murtasim's tone was icy.

Akash sighed and started jogging up and down the bleachers. "Best view of the day, man," Murtasim muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

The practice continued with Murtasim finding every possible excuse to make the guys run more, do extra drills, and face his wrath. By the end, they were all dripping with sweat and ready to collapse.

"Alright, penalty shots!" Murtasim announced. The guys lined up, and Murtasim took his place, glaring at the ball like it had personally offended him.

Jake stepped up first. His face paled when he saw Murtasim's determined expression. "Hey, take it easy, man," he said, nervously adjusting his position.

Murtasim smirked. "Sure, Jakey. Just relax." He took a few steps back, then ran forward and kicked the ball with all his might, sending it straight at Jake's shins. Jake yelped and hopped around on one foot, trying to shake off the pain.

"Oops," Murtasim said, not sounding sorry at all. "Next!"

Andrew was up next, still limping, hands hovering over his groin area. Murtasim aimed high this time, the ball soaring just over Andrew's head, making him duck and cover.

"Come on, Andrew, it's not like it's gonna bite," Murtasim said with mock sweetness, he had already suffered, as he deserved to.

Finally, it was Akash's turn. Murtasim kicked the ball with the force of a cannon, aiming for Akash's midsection. Akash barely managed to deflect it, stumbling back in the process.

"Nice block," Murtasim said dryly. "Next time, try using your face."

Saad walked over, shaking his head. "You know, for a guy in love, you sure have a funny way of showing it."

Murtasim sighed, running a hand through his sweaty hair. "They shouldn't talk about her like that."

Saad smiled. "Yeah, I get it. Just maybe next time, don't aim for the jewels. Poor Andrew might never have kids."

Murtasim chuckled. "Yeah, well, serves him right. Maybe he'll think twice next time."

Saad sighed. "At this rate, we're gonna run out of teammates."

Murtasim shot him a look. "And you're next if you don't shut up."

Saad raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm just saying, maybe there's a more... constructive way to handle this?"

"Constructive?" Murtasim said, raising an eyebrow. "You want constructive? How about you all stop acting like hormonal assholes and start showing some respect?"

Saad laughed. "You never have a problem if it's not about Meerab, declare her off limits. Seriously, you're gonna give yourself an aneurysm."

Murtasim rolled his eyes. "She'd yell at you and tell you she's not a possession to be owned." He muttered.

Saad snickered, "you sound so in love, it's disgusting."

Murtasim ignored him.

"Nice shot, by the way," Saad said, clapping him on the back.

Murtasim smirked. "Thanks. I've been practicing."

"Just maybe aim a little higher next time," Saad suggested with a laugh.

Murtasim laughed too, shaking his head. "No promises."

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7:00pm

Murtasim's phone dinged.

It was Saad again, he had been texting since Murtasim told him he was going to stay back and hit the school gym to lift some weights.

SUS that you're ALWAYS at the gym every Wednesday at the same time, even after our soccer practice. Calculus again?

He ignored the text, grabbed his bag and clothes, and headed out.

It was almost time.

He lingered around the hallway, peeking through the edge every once in a while, like some sort of high school James Bond, minus the gadgets and cool car. On Wednesdays, Meerab first had a Student Council meeting, then she stayed late as the school paper released every Friday and the team met for final edits before production on Thursday. When she stepped out of the room on Wednesdays, she looked like a zombie, her feet dragging.

The door to the room opened and there she was, the goddess of his dreams, looking like she had just wrestled a bear in the student council room. He let her get a head start and then, like a determined, love-struck stalker, followed her at a safe distance as she walked home.

He had overheard her telling her friends about some older guys who had followed her a couple of times, rolling their windows down and harassing her. That had ignited a protective fire in him. So, every Wednesday – when she walked home alone - he walked a few steps behind her, ready to go full vigilante mode if necessary. His inner knight in shining armor on full display, though he was more like a dork in gym clothes.

One time, he had seen the creeps. His mere presence behind her, combined with his best death glare, had sent them packing. They hadn't reappeared since, probably because he had tracked them down and made it clear that their existence could be abruptly terminated if they dared to mess with her again. Ah, the perks of having an affluent family with some... persuasive connections paired with a bad reputation.

As usual, she slowed down a bit when she realized he was behind her, turning slightly and smiling. It was the highlight of his week when she stopped and waited for him to catch up.

"Working out again?" she asked, her voice like a melody.

He nodded, because words were apparently not in his skill set when she was so close. His brain had the consistency of pudding around her.

"You and the soccer team made the paper this week...the win against Riverside..." She trailed off.

She had been at the game.

He wondered if she had watched him. He silently prayed she hadn't noticed him tripping over his own feet in the second half. But hoped she had seen him score that goal with his impressive (albeit slightly accidental) bicycle kick.

"Did you enjoy watching...the game?" He managed to get out, his voice cracking slightly.

Smooth.

"Yeah, I did." Why was her voice so sweet? Like honey mixed with fairy dust.

"I see." Was all he could say.

I see? I see?

What was wrong with him? He internally facepalmed so hard it almost hurt. He might as well have said, "Indubitably" and tipped his imaginary hat.

She just smiled and didn't say anything else either, and he tried to think of something to say but drew a blank. She smelled so good. Like lavender. How was he supposed to form coherent thoughts when she smelled so good that he wanted to bury his face in her hair?

And when they walked side by side, their shoulders occasionally brushed together. Each time, a jolt of electricity shot through him. How was he supposed to think when she was so intoxicatingly close?

"Nice weather we're having," Murtasim blurted out, immediately wishing he hadn't said anything at all. It had been raining all week.

Nice weather indeed, genius.

"I guess if you like the rain?" Meerab said, raising an eyebrow and giving him a playful smile.

"Do...you?" he asked, feeling like an idiot.

Great job, Murtasim. What's next, asking if she likes air?

She hummed, a pretty little sound that made his heart do a somersault. "When I am inside watching the rain against my window, then yes." She smiled.

That smile needed to be illegal. How was he supposed to function when she did that?

Murtasim mentally screamed at himself to say something, anything, to keep the conversation going. But his mouth seemed to have gone on strike, leaving him to walk beside her in blissful, agonizing silence. His mind was a jumbled mess of half-formed thoughts and ridiculous fantasies, like proposing to her under a rainbow made of rainbows.

As they reached her house, she turned to him, her smile making his knees weak. "Thanks for walking with me, Murtasim."

"Anytime," he croaked, sounding like he had swallowed a frog. Smooth, really smooth.

"See you tomorrow." She gave a small wave and headed inside, leaving him standing there like a lovesick puppy. He stood there for a moment, basking in the afterglow of her presence, before finally turning to leave.

Wednesdays were torture, but they were also the best day of his week.

As he walked home, in the opposite direction – he'd have to walk past the school again – his phone dinged.

Another message from Saad. Oh shit, did you actually TALK to Meerab today? Should I prepare my best man speech?

Murtasim texted back. What the fuck?

Saad replied instantly. You dumb shit, you walk by my house every Wednesday. LOL LOL.

Murtasim groaned. Great, just what he needed. His best friend turned private investigator. He typed back furiously. How about you mind your own business?

Saad's response was immediate. Not possible when your business is this hilarious.

Murtasim groaned out loud this time, drawing a curious glance from a passerby. Don't you have anything better to do than spy on me?

Nope, this is the highlight of my week, Saad replied with a laughing emoji. Seriously, just ask her out already. You're KILLING me.

He replied. And get rejected? No thanks.

BAWK-BAWK. Chicken. Saad texted back.

Murtasim rolled his eyes. I have a plan.

What?! Saad text.

And when Murtasim didn't immediately reply, he called.

Murtasim rolled his eyes and stuffed his phone back into his pocket. He imagined Saad sitting in his room, cackling like a maniac at Murtasim's misfortunes and then dying of curiosity at what his plan was. But he wasn't going to say - it was bad enough he had to navigate the treacherous waters of high school crushes, now he had to deal with Saad's running commentary.

As he trudged past the school again, he replayed the brief conversation with Meerab in his head. He dissected every word, every smile, every awkward pause, like it was game tape.

"Nice weather we're having?" He muttered to himself, shaking his head. "Seriously?"

He made a mental note to come up with better small talk. Maybe something about books, or movies, or literally anything other than the weather. But despite his self-criticism, he couldn't help but smile. She had smiled at him, talked to him, and for a few precious minutes, he had been in her orbit.

As he walked, he realized how little they actually talked at school. They had three classes together, but she always sat right at the front while he slouched near the back. They never got paired up for projects either. It was like the universe was conspiring against him.

But Murtasim was determined to take matters into his own hands – it was senior year, it was now or never. Maybe he was shooting himself in the foot with his idea, but he really couldn't think of anything else to get one-on-one time with her.

His phone dinged again. He sighed and pulled it out.

It was Saad again. Come on, dude, what's the plan?

Murtasim sighed, Saad was so fucking nosy.

Murtasim shoved his phone back into his pocket and continued walking, a small smile playing on his lips. He had a plan, and if everything went well, other days of the week would become even better.

He walked the rest of the way home with a bounce in his step, already counting down the minutes until his next encounter with Meerab. 

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A/N: This one was *this* closed to getting scrapped so I am not sure how I feel about it still, would love to hear thoughts!