Suhina's dramatic exit still echoed in my ears as I shoved my books into my bag and slipped out of the classroom. Nami had bolted to the cafeteria, yelling about snacks over her shoulder. I didn't follow—needed air, not noise.
I ended up by the old stone wall near the school's back gate, where the crowd thinned out. Leaning against the rough surface, I tipped my head back, letting the breeze cool the heat still simmering in my chest.
Footsteps crunched nearby. I opened my eyes—Arin. He stopped a few feet away, notebook in hand, scanning the area like he'd meant to be alone. His gaze landed on me, and for a second, he looked annoyed—like I'd invaded his space.
"Didn't see you there," he muttered, voice flat. He didn't leave, though—just shifted his weight, staring past me at nothing.
I shrugged. "Not hiding."
He didn't reply. Just opened his notebook, pen scratching across the page like I wasn't even there. Typical Arin—shutting the world out. I should've left it alone, but Suhina's stunt still gnawed at me.
"She's full of it, you know," I said, picking at a loose thread on my sleeve. "What she said back there."
His pen stopped. He didn't look up, just let the silence stretch until it felt heavy. Then, low: "I know."
That was it. No elaboration, no glance. But it was enough to loosen the knot in my gut. I exhaled, kicking a pebble across the dirt. "Good."
He flipped a page, still not meeting my eyes. The wind tugged at his hair, and for a split second, I wondered why fate kept tossing us into each other's orbit. He didn't want this—neither did I. Yet here we were.
Nami's voice cut through from a distance. "Aira! Chips or death—pick one!"
I smirked, pushing off the wall. Arin didn't move, didn't react—just kept writing. I walked off, but not before catching the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Barely there, like he'd almost let a laugh slip.
Weird guy.