Julian tried to keep his back to her. It didn't work. The lunchroom buzzed like it always did voices overlapping, trays clattering, laughter ricocheting off the walls but none of it mattered. Not when she was there.
Not when his eyes kept finding her no matter how hard he told himself to stop. Across the room, Portia laughed at something someone said, head tilted back, shoulders relaxed.
Julian's jaw tightened. "Man, just go talk to her," one of his friends said, nudging him with an elbow. Julian shook his head, eyes still glued to her. She moved like she belonged everywhere she stood, like space made room for her without complaint.
"Nah," he muttered. "I can't." He closed his eyes for a brief second, then turned away, leaning against the cold stone railing behind their table. The chill seeped through his shirt, grounding him only a little.
"Fine," the friend scoffed. "Stay miserable." Julian grimaced. Miserable didn't even cover it.
They'd eaten lunch together once. Just once. He'd replayed it a thousand times the way she smiled, the way she listened.
And still, when it was over, it felt like he'd been standing in front of her the entire time and she'd been looking straight through him. Visible. But never chosen.
"These are for you," Langston announced suddenly. Julian turned sharply. "Excuse me Langston. These are for you."
Langston barely heard him. He was already lifting a bouquet royal blue flowers so bright they looked unreal against the cafeteria's dull colors.
"For your reaction," Langston said eagerly, raising his camera.
Click. Click.
"One for you to keep," he added, handing Julian the photo like a trophy. Julian stared at the flowers. They should've been his idea.
"Thank you, Langston. Bye, guys," Portia said kindly, already stepping away. She didn't linger.
Didn't look back.
"Well," Langston said, nudging Julian, "at least she acknowledged you." Julian didn't answer. Something in his chest twisted not relief, not gratitude. Something sharper. She shouldn't be thanking him.
"Oh excuse me!" her voice rang out again. Julian looked up, startled. She stood there, closer now, smiling like she always did easy, bright, unaware of the war she sparked just by existing.
"We keep bumping into each other," she said lightly. "Or I keep bumping into you. Hi. How are you?" Every word landed like a gift he didn't know how to hold.
"I'm uh good," he managed.
They talked. Briefly. About nothing. About the day. About how weird gym had been. It felt good. Too good. When she walked away again, Julian sat down harder than necessary.
"Langston," he snapped, tearing into his grilled cheese like it had personally wronged him. Grease pooled on the table, ignored. "Langston, Langston, Langston that's all I've heard all damn morning." Langston stayed quiet. That silence only made it worse.
"I swear to God," Julian continued, voice low, dangerous, "you've got one more time."
Langston glanced up. "One more time for what?" Julian's control slipped.
"Just stay the fuck away from her!" he barked, slamming his palm down so hard the table rattled. Nearby conversations faltered. Julian wiped the grease away with shaking fingers, breathing hard now.
It wasn't Langston he was angry at. It was the way she smiled at everyone the same. The way she didn't belong to anyone least of all him. The way other boys looked at her like she was something to take, something to win. Something he deserved more.
Across the cafeteria, he caught sight of Kentrell at another table quiet, watchful, eyes on Portia but body turned away, like he was giving her space. The sight made something ugly coil in Julian's chest. Why does he get to watch her like that?
Julian leaned back, jaw clenched, a decision hardening behind his eyes. He wasn't giving up. Not when he'd already touched her.
Not when she laughed with him.
Not when she said his name as it mattered. She just didn't realize it yet
