Scared, when I open my locker the next day, everything is squeaky clean like someone was paid extra to scrub every teensy bit of particle away. The rancid smell of eggs from yesterday is gone, replaced by the fresh scent of phenol. The books are gone and I dread to think of Mrs Aparna's face when she gets to know that all of my books are now a half-cooked mess, featuring as an ingredient in sunny-side-up. Maybe Romil has come before me and sorted the mess out for now. I move sluggishly to class, tearing myself away from any thoughts that entertain the list of possible perpetrators.

Even after the morning assembly, as I am reading the instructions to the half-hearted twelfth graders to stay behind, I ramble dispassionately about the credibility of Shreyas Patel, the renowned career counselor, asking them to submit the names of those who want to ask questions and book personal sessions with him. I am also unresponsive for a whole minute when someone interrupts me to inquire whether his wife, Savitri Patel, will also be counseling. To this, Romil takes the mic from me and answers the student negatively. Something about how swiftly he came to my side, taking over the mic on the lectern, makes me highly conscious of his presence.

Maybe it's because I've been thinking about him all morning, about the mess in my locker and the books that mysteriously vanished. Or maybe it's because Romil himself has been a puzzle lately, slipping into someone I couldn't quite place. Either way, watching him handle everything today with that effortless cool makes me want to catch his eye, to see if there was something beneath the surface I could grasp. But before I can make a move, his friends swarm him, as they always do. A noisy, jostling crew full of easy laughs and claps on the back. And Romil, the one at the centre of it all, smiles his easy smile, but it is tighter than usual, his eyes betraying none of the amusement his friends seem to find in their banter.

I notice it—the way his shoulders hunch slightly, his laughs more like reflexes than genuine. No one else seems to pick up on it, too lost in their own inside jokes. But the tension is there, subtle but simmering, threading through his interactions with them in ways I couldn't quite explain.

I linger, half-heartedly organizing papers that doesn't need organizing, hoping for a moment when he'd be alone. But it never comes. There is always someone pulling him aside, talking, bickering before they all piled out of the assembly hall together, leaving me standing there with a stack of neat papers.

After walking absentmindedly through the queue of students lined up, getting their shoes and nails checked by the captains, I take my station at the top of the stairs at the Science block, ensuring if the things change once the students go through the preliminary checking. My eyes scan the students, smiling or eyebrow-flashing at the familiar faces, and pointing out a few who have their collar buttons undone.

Rupal passes me, looking as appropriate as any other student, her hair tied up in a pony and her nails pruned, stripped of any flashy nail paint. I sigh. She must have been tipped off about my duties.

I call out to Amandeep as two of her collar buttons are undone and her tie hangs lower than her dainty gold pendant.

'Yaar, Maithili, it's so hot, I promise I'll fix it once I'm inside the classroom,' she says, fanning herself and even widening the gap in imitation of someone who is working in the boilers as she sees Arjun come up behind me.

'Hey, good morning girls!' He says to me and her.

I watch Amanpreet staring boldly at Arjun.

Just as a group of girls passes, one of them quips loudly, 'We all have what you're showing off, girl!' The whole group erupts into laughter.

Amandeep turns the colour of a ripe tomato. Without missing a beat, she spins around and yells, 'No, Sharon, I know some who don't!'

I am biting my lips to keep myself from laughing as I shoo her off with a half-hearted warning before turning to Arjun, who's still grinning. 'Shouldn't you be in class?'

He shrugs, falling into step beside me as we walk toward the commerce block. 'I wanted to ask you something first,' he says, his tone shifting slightly. 'I was wondering... maybe we could hang out the next weekend? There's this thing at the Lalit. Some kind of charity drive. You know, a good cause and all that. Thought maybe you'd want to come.'

I blink, caught a little off-guard by his casual invitation. A charity drive is nice, but before I can ask him more about it, I spot Romil entering the classroom from the end of the corridor. My mind spirals, and I am instantly pulled back to the locker scene from yesterday.

Without thinking, I say, 'I'll let you know!' and head towards the classroom, where unfortunately, Romil is back in a serious conversation with Vatsal and Shlok.

The rest of the day passes in a blur. We've been given so much project work that I'm getting a hump just thinking about the weight of it all. By the time sports period rolls around, I'm more than happy to let myself be seated in a quiet corner on the bleachers while everyone else plays basketball. Romil's out there, of course, moving across the court with the kind of focus that makes him look like a different person entirely.

I take notes on the things that I need to research for my individual projects and list all the tasks each one of our group will take care of for our group projects. When I'm done, I look up and Romil catches my eye, his expression unreadable. Before I can think too much about it, he walks over and sits next to me, his number twenty-three jersey clinging to him from the sweat of the game. For a second, I just stare at him, unsure of what to say, unsure of how to broach the topic that's been on the tip of my tongue all day.

'So... the books from the locker...' I start, my voice quieter than I've intended.

Romil leans back on the bench, his eyes still on the court as he speaks. 'I took care of it.'

I blink, not sure what to make of that. 'What did you do? I know I've incurred a penalty. How much?'

He doesn't answer right away, just keeps watching the court like he's trying to find the right words. Finally, he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. 'You looked like you didn't need one more thing to deal with.'

It's not the answer I expected. I thought maybe he'd say it was no big deal, brush it off like he does with everything else. But there's something sincere in his voice.

'I'd like to know, Romil.' I turn his way, willing him to look me in the eyes. He does, and when it happens, I'm momentarily lost in the subtle way the sunlight catches his brown eyes. 'Romil, did you pay for it?' I ask softly.

He glances at me briefly, then turns back to the court. Silence. My stomach tightens. 'I didn't ask you to do that,' I murmur. 'I could've handled it.'

'It's not about the money, Maithili.' He shifts slightly. 'What happened... it's worse than that.'

My heart skips. 'Worse? What are you getting at?'

'They are going to regret it,' he says, eyes still on the game. 'And penalty is the least of it.'

A chill runs through me. 'What did you do?' I say, my voice unsure.

He finally meets my eyes. 'Trust me. They won't be doing it again.'

I swallow when I notice something flicker under the shadows of his eyes. I shift my gaze and focus on the notebook in my hands. Romil shifts beside me, and suddenly, I'm hyper-aware of how close he is. I get goosebumps all over. There's a long stretch of silence, and I can feel him watching the court, but I know his focus isn't really there. He's thinking.

'You've always been good at overthinking, haven't you?' His voice is a low whisper, a little teasing, but there's something beneath it, something more... real.

I bite back a smile, trying to keep my cool. 'You've noticed?'

He gives a casual shrug, like it's just an observation, but his shoulder brushes against mine, and I feel it more than I want to admit. 'Kind of hard to miss.'

I chuckle. How very transparent I am. He's not wrong, but hearing it from him feels different. 'So what? You think I need help with that?'

He leans forward a little, his eyes following the ball as it bounces across the court. 'See that guy? The one tripping over his own feet?' He nods toward one of the players who's struggling. 'He's too busy thinking about his next move. Can't focus on the ball right in front of him.'

I raise an eyebrow, amused. 'Really? You're giving me sports analogies now?'

Romil grins at me, that cocky little half-smile that I've seen a million times back on his annoyingly handsome face, 'Hey, it works, doesn't it?'

I roll my eyes, but I don't say anything. He is definitely flirting with me; I think this when I notice him holding my gaze long after the words have ended.

'You're missing what's right in front of you,' he says, his voice quieter now, more serious. 'You don't have to do everything alone, you know?'

His words hit me in a place I am not prepared for. My heart does this weird little flip, and I look away, pretending to focus on the players again. But it's impossible to ignore the way his fingers just barely brush against mine. It's like he's testing the waters, seeing how I'll react. And the thing is—I don't pull away.

'I don't need anyone to fix my problems, Romil,' I say, my voice stronger than I feel.

He nods, but there's something knowing in his expression. 'I'm not saying you do. But maybe you could let someone help you carry them. Just a little.'

I don't know what to say to that. My heart's racing, and it has nothing to do with the game. His fingers are still lightly touching mine, not enough to call it anything, but enough that it feels like... something.

Before I can respond, he pulls away, standing up like he hasn't just shaken the ground beneath my feet. 'I'll see you around, Maithili.'

And just like that, he jogs back to the court, leaving me on the bleachers with my heart doing laps and my mind... well, doing what it does best—overthinking every second of that moment.

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A/N
Thank you for reading!
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XOXO

Shailey