"So we're just standing here waiting for Julian's love," one of the boys joked, nudging another with his elbow.
"Shut up," Julian snapped, the word coming out harsher than he meant. He jumped in front of the kid, hand flying out, shaking it frantically like he could physically erase the comment.
"I'm just saying," the younger boy laughed, unfazed. "That's what we're doing, right?"
No one answered.
The silence burned worse than the joke.
Julian crossed the street toward the school, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, jaw clenched. They always do this, he thought. Make it a joke. Like I'm not serious. Like she's not serious.
At the brick wall near their usual spot, the group gathered again loose, loud, careless.
"Ooh, excuse me good morning, Langston!"
The voice cut clean through the morning.
Julian barely registered it before Langston exploded, slamming him back against the wall, forearm pressing hard into his chest.
"What the hell was that?" Langston hissed.
"Calm down," Julian said quickly, heart pounding. "She just said good morning."
"What else?" Langston demanded.
"Nothing," Julian insisted. "I swear."
Langston stared at him for a long moment, then shoved him away. "Get your head straight, man."
Julian grabbed his bag and walked off before anyone could see the way his hands were shaking.
⸻
The classroom was quiet when he arrived later that afternoon.
Too quiet.
Portia stood near the boards, sleeves rolled slightly, sponge in hand. Chalk dust clung faintly to her fingers. When she turned and saw him, her face lit up open, genuine.
"Hi, Julian!"
The sound of his name from her mouth hit him harder than it should have.
"Hey," he said, closing the door behind him. "I thought you were supposed to clean the boards after school."
"I am," she replied easily. "Ms. Johnson let me start early."
He nodded and reached for an extra sponge, standing beside her. The closeness buzzed too much, too fast. The smell of chalk and soap filled the air as they worked in silence.
When she moved past him to finish her side, something in Julian snapped not anger, not cruelty, but entitlement.
I deserve this, he told himself. She smiles at me. She laughs with me.
He reached out and wrapped his arms around her waist.
The moment shattered instantly.
Portia stiffened, then wrenched herself free.
"Julian no."
Her voice was sharp. Clear. Not playful.
She dropped the sponge and backed away, eyes wide not embarrassed.
Upset.
She grabbed her bag and bolted out the door, sneakers squealing against the tile as the door slammed hard enough to echo down the hallway.
Julian stood frozen, heart racing, hands still lifted like he could rewind time.
But the classroom didn't forget.
⸻
The consequences came fast.
Portia went straight to the counselor.
Ms. Johnson was pulled from her room mid-period.
Julian was escorted out of class before the final bell rang.
By the next morning, everyone knew not the rumors, not the jokes, but the truth.
Unwanted.
Inappropriate.
Not okay.
Julian was suspended for three days. Mandatory meetings followed. His friends didn't joke anymore. Langston wouldn't meet his eyes.
And Portia?
She walked the halls quieter for a while but not smaller.
Kentrell noticed everything.
He noticed the way she flinched when someone stepped too close. The way she sat beside him in class without saying a word, shoulder barely touching his but staying.
One afternoon, as they packed up, she spoke softly.
"Thank you for not laughing."
Kentrell swallowed. "There was nothing funny about it."
She nodded, eyes glossy but steady. "I just needed someone to see that."
He turned to her then really turned.
"I see you," he said. "And I've got you. Always."
This time, she smiled and it reached her eyes.
