glasses

Under watchful eyes

The playground was bustling with life, students scattered across the tables, benches, and patches of grass in their usual cliques. Román sat with his back to the sun, the light catching on the edges of his glasses as he scribbled idly in his notebook. 

His friends were as loud as ever, talking over one another, laughing at half-finished stories, and occasionally dragging him into the conversation. Not that he minded—this was his comfort zone, their chaotic chatter filling the space around him while he chimed in just enough to stay part of it. 

"Román!" Adriana nudged his shoulder, mock-offended. "You're zoning out again! I swear, your notebook gets more attention than we do." 

"That's because my notebook doesn't shout at me," he replied dryly, not even looking up. 

The table erupted in laughter, and Adriana swatted his arm. "Rude. Come on, what's so important? Show us." 

Román sighed and flipped the notebook shut. "It's nothing. Just notes." 

"Sure," she teased, leaning in closer. "What kind of notes? Volleyball strategies? Maybe love poems for your secret crush?" 

"Yeah, definitely that," Román deadpanned, rolling his eyes. 

Another round of laughter, and Román let himself smile, even if he shook his head at them. These moments were easy. Simple. 

But then he felt it. 

That prickling sensation of being watched. 

He glanced up, instinctively scanning the playground. His eyes landed on a familiar figure at one of the tables across the way. Nicolás. 

Román froze for a second, caught off guard. Nicolás was sitting with his teammates, but his attention wasn't on them. It was on him. 

Román's heart skipped, and he quickly looked back down at his notebook. *What the hell?* 

"Nico's staring at you," whispered Carmen, one of his other friends, leaning in with a sly grin. 

"What?" Román said, trying to play it off. 

She nodded toward Nicolás's table. "Don't look now, but yeah. He's totally looking this way." 

"Probably just zoning out," Román muttered, but he could feel the heat creeping up his neck. Why would Nicolás, of all people, be staring at him? 

Román chanced another quick glance, and sure enough, Nicolás's eyes were still on him. When their gazes met—just for a second—Román immediately looked away again, his stomach twisting. 

What is his deal?

"Maybe he likes you," Adriana joked, nudging him again. 

"Very funny," Román said flatly, but his pulse quickened at the thought. 

The Nicolás he knew—if he could even say he knew him—was loud, confident, and always surrounded by people. They'd barely interacted until yesterday, and even then, it had been more of a strange encounter than anything else. 

So why did it feel like Nicolás was paying attention to him now? 

"Hey," Adriana said more softly, interrupting his spiraling thoughts. "It's probably nothing. He's just weird like that, right?" 

"Right," Román muttered, trying to brush it off. 

But no matter how much he tried, he couldn't shake the feeling of those dark eyes watching him. And the question hung in his mind, circling like an unanswered riddle: 

Why me?