Unexpected Love [GXG]

Chapter 27: Just A Pinky

POV:ENID

School didn’t feel the same today.

Maybe it was because of the kiss.
Or maybe because the sky looked exactly the way it had last night—cloudy in the corners but still too bright. Like nothing had changed.
Except everything had.

I stood in front of my locker, gripping my books tighter than I needed to, fingers sore from pressing too hard. The hallway was alive with noise, laughs, shouting, lockers slamming shut, someone chasing someone with half a banana—but it all sounded muffled to me.

Distant.

Somewhere down the stairwell, I could hear Maxine’s ridiculous laugh, loud and sharp. She always sounded like she was winning something.

And yet all I could hear was my own heartbeat.

Was it stupid to still feel like this?

I hadn’t looked Olivia’s way since we parted at the bonfire. No texts. No updates. Not even a goodnight. I didn’t know if it was on purpose, or if I was just too scared to check my phone and see nothing waiting.

What did that kiss even mean?

I hated that I wanted it to mean something.
I hated that I wanted her, but should not want her.

"Hey, Enid."

I turned before I could stop myself.

Derick.

He stood there with his usual laid-back smile, hands in his jacket pockets, like we were friends. Like this was normal.

"Uh… hey?" I said, blinking.

He nodded and kept walking like we had just shared the most casual exchange ever.

I stood there for another second, confused. Why would Derick say hi to me? He literally never had.

The bell snapped me out of it. I had four minutes to get to photography.

✿⁠ 

The classroom was already half full by the time I walked in. The sound of cameras clicking and laptops booting filled the room. Someone was swearing under their breath as they tried to load film into an old Canon. The usual.

I made my way to my usual seat at the back, head down, trying not to think too hard. I pulled out my camera, notebook, and pen. My hand went straight to the edge of the pen. I chewed on it. A nervous habit.

I felt her before I saw her.

That quiet energy. The slight scuff of her sneakers. The soft scent she always wore—clean and warm and a little musky.

I looked up.

Olivia.

Her hair was even messier than usual, shoved into a bun held together with a pencil, like she barely bothered this morning. Her hoodie looked like it could swallow her whole, slipping off one shoulder. The strap of her tank top was visible underneath. She carried her camera like it weighed nothing at all.