Monday had always been my least favorite day. If I had the power, I would’ve erased it from the calendar entirely.

I sighed as I stepped onto the morning bus, already bracing myself for another long week. And then I saw him.

Jay.

Or should I say, the boy I wasn’t supposed to like — the boy who had once told me he was in a “situationship.”

“Morning, Lena.”

His bright smile flashed across his face, warm and effortless.

For a second, I forgot how to breathe.

Am I stupid? I wondered. Falling for someone who already belongs—at least partly—to someone else?

“Morning…” I replied, hoping my voice didn’t betray me.

I still remembered the first day he arrived at college. He had been quiet, almost painfully shy. As class president, I was the one he texted to ask about schedules, professors, classmates. Somewhere between helping him find classrooms and sending him notes, I found myself smiling at my phone more than I should have.

Maybe it was love at first sight.

Maybe it was just foolishness.

Either way, I had fallen.

By afternoon, something felt off. Jay wasn’t himself. His usual playful spark was gone, replaced by a silence that clung to him like a shadow. I wanted to ask if he was okay, but after my failed confession months ago, I didn’t know where I stood.

Back then, I had half-joked that I liked him. Half-joked — because if he rejected me, I could pretend I hadn’t meant it. But he had gently turned me down, explaining he was already involved with someone.

He hadn’t embarrassed me. He hadn’t told anyone. He had been kind.

Still, the rejection lingered like a bruise.

Later that day, I overheard the truth. The girl he’d been seeing was now with someone else. She had left him.

And suddenly, his sadness made sense.

I didn’t comfort him. I didn’t know how.

“Lena?”

I froze. He was standing right behind me.

“Yes?” I turned, trying to steady my heartbeat.

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair — a nervous habit of his.

“Will you… teach me how to kiss?”

For a moment, I thought I misheard him.

“What?”

He gave a faint, almost embarrassed smile. “You once said you were a pro kisser.”

Oh no.

Months ago, in a bold attempt to flirt, I had said that. I wasn’t a pro at anything. I was just a girl hopelessly crushing on him.

“I just…” His voice softened. “I thought maybe it would help. I feel stupid, Lena. Like I wasn’t enough.”

My chest tightened. This wasn’t about desire. It was about pain.

And yet… this was my greatest temptation.

I nodded before my brain could argue. “Don’t blame me afterward,” I said lightly, though my heart was racing.

We slipped into an empty classroom. The air felt still, almost charged. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting golden lines across the floor.

For a second, we just stood there.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered — though I wasn’t sure what I was apologizing for.

For liking him?

For wanting this?

For knowing it might hurt me later?

I reached up, my fingers lightly touching the back of his neck. His breath brushed against my face, warm and unsteady. My eyes fluttered closed as I leaned in slowly, giving him time to pull away.

He didn’t.

Our lips met softly at first — uncertain, gentle. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure he could hear it. I was about to step back when his hand found my waist, steadying me. The kiss deepened — not rushed, not wild — but filled with something raw and searching.

He wasn’t just kissing me.

He was trying to forget someone else.

And I wasn’t just teaching him.

I was giving him a piece of myself.

When we finally pulled apart, the world felt quieter. His forehead rested lightly against mine, both of us breathing harder than before.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

But I didn’t know whether to feel victorious… or terrified.

Because somewhere between that first soft touch and the way his fingers tightened at my waist—

Monday didn’t feel so cruel anymore.

And that scared me the most.

If you want, I can continue the story — maybe with emotional consequences, jealousy, slow-burn romance, or a love triangle twist.

The Day After

Tuesday felt strangely different.

I expected awkwardness. Distance. Maybe even regret.

But when I stepped into class, Jay was already looking at me.

Not casually.

Not accidentally.

He was waiting.

“Morning, Lena.”

There was something steady in his voice — not broken, not sad. Just… clear.

“Morning,” I replied, unsure where to place my hands, my eyes, my heartbeat.

He walked over and sat beside me again.

Not because he had to.

Because he wanted to.

I had learned the truth yesterday — the girl he’d been in a situationship with was seeing other people too. It wasn’t serious. It wasn’t exclusive. It was just… undefined.

And maybe that’s what hurt him. Not love — just confusion.

But today, he didn’t look confused.

He looked certain.

“You’re quiet,” he said.

“So are you.”

He smiled. “I was thinking.”

“About?”

He leaned back slightly, studying me in a way that made my pulse race.

“About how stupid I’ve been.”

My heart tightened. “Jay—”

“I wasn’t in love with her,” he said calmly. “It was just comfortable. No labels. No pressure. But yesterday… when I kissed you…”

His voice softened.

“That didn’t feel comfortable.”

I swallowed.

“It felt real.”

The word settled between us.

All day, he stayed close.

He walked with me between classes.

He carried my books without asking.

He brushed shoulders with me in narrow hallways like it was the most natural thing in the world.

At lunch, when someone asked him to join their table, he glanced at me first.

“I’m sitting here,” he replied simply.

With me.

And for once, I wasn’t second choice.

Later, when the campus quieted, he stopped me near the staircase.

“Lena.”

“Yes?”

He stepped closer — not trapping, not rushing — just closing the space slowly.

“I didn’t ask you to kiss me because I was heartbroken,” he said. “I asked because you were the only person I wanted to be close to.”

My chest tightened.

“I kept telling myself I was in a situationship,” he continued. “But honestly? I think I was just scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Of you.”

I blinked.

“You confessed once,” he said gently. “And instead of being honest, I hid behind something undefined. Because if I chose you… it wouldn’t be casual.”

His hand found mine.

“And you’re not someone I want casually.”

My breath trembled.

“I don’t want a situationship,” he said quietly. “I want to try. Properly. With you.”

The world felt smaller somehow — just him, standing close enough that I could feel the warmth of him without even touching.

“Are you sure?” I asked softly.

He smiled — not playful this time, but sincere.

“I’ve never been more sure.”

And when he leaned in again, it wasn’t desperate or experimental.

It was slow.

Intentional.

Like he wasn’t trying to escape anything anymore.

Author

I know it is somewhat unpredictable story and made you feel that is coming next in our next chapter. if you are interested, please do comment with us for your recommendations 😗

The corridor was quieter than usual, washed in the soft gold of late afternoon sunlight. Most students had already left, their laughter fading into the distance. I walked slowly, pretending to check my phone, pretending my heart wasn’t restless.

“Lena.”

There it was again — that voice.

I stopped but didn’t turn immediately. I needed a second to steady myself. Ever since yesterday’s kiss, everything felt different. Not awkward. Not exactly. Just charged.

“Yes?” I finally said, facing him.

Jay stood a few steps away, hands tucked into his pockets, eyes searching my face like he was trying to solve something complicated.

“You’re avoiding me,” he said gently.

“I’m not,” I replied too quickly.

His lips curved slightly. “You are.”

He stepped closer, and I hated how easily my breathing shifted. It wasn’t like he was touching me. It was just his presence — warm, steady, intentional.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

The memory of yesterday lingered between us. The empty classroom. The nervous closeness. The way my heart had nearly burst out of my chest.

“About yesterday,” he started.

My stomach tightened. “What about it?”

He ran a hand through his hair — that familiar nervous habit. “I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s dangerous.”

He let out a quiet laugh, but his expression quickly softened. “When I asked you to kiss me… I told you it was because I thought it would help clear my head.”

I nodded slightly.

“That wasn’t the whole truth.”

I swallowed. “Then what was?”

He hesitated, like choosing the right words mattered. “I think I just wanted an excuse.”

“An excuse for what?”

“To be close to you.”

The words landed gently, but they shook me.

He took another step forward, closing the distance between us. Not enough to trap me. Just enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him.

“I kept telling myself I was in a situationship,” he continued. “But it was never serious. No promises. No depth. And yesterday made me realize something.

My pulse quickened. “What?”

“That I don’t want something undefined.” His gaze locked onto mine. “I don’t want casual.”

The air felt heavier now.

“When you kissed me, Lena…” His voice dropped slightly. “It didn’t feel like a distraction. It felt real. Like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.”

I didn’t know what to say. My mind was spinning, but my heart felt strangely calm.

He studied my expression carefully. “Can I ask you something?”

I nodded.

“Can I kiss you again?”

The question was simple. Soft. But it carried weight.

I blinked. “Why?”

A faint smile appeared on his lips, not playful — sincere.

“Because this time I’m not confused. I’m not trying to forget anyone. I’m not proving anything.” His hand slowly reached for mine, giving me enough time to pull away.

I didn’t.

“I just want you,” he said quietly. “And I want to know if what I felt yesterday wasn’t just in my head.”

My fingers curled slightly around his.

“You’re not asking because you feel bad?” I whispered.

“No.” He shook his head gently. “I’m asking because I haven’t stopped thinking about it. About you.”

My heart fluttered painfully in my chest.

He stepped even closer, but still waited. Always waiting for my permission.

“Only if you want to,” he added softly. “Not because I asked. Not because you liked me first. Only if you want this too.”

That small reassurance melted whatever hesitation I had left.

I closed the last inch of space between us.

“I want to,” I said, barely above a whisper.

His hand rested at my waist — careful, steady — as if he was afraid of rushing something fragile. The other hand remained intertwined with mine.

He leaned in slowly.

This time there was no nervous apology. No uncertainty.

Just intention.

When our lips met, it was softer than before. Slower. A quiet exploration rather than a sudden spark. My heart raced, but it wasn’t chaotic. It felt warm, steady, like something falling into place.

He didn’t rush. Didn’t deepen it in desperation. He simply stayed there, close enough for me to feel the sincerity in the way he held me.

For a moment, the world disappeared.

No hallway.

No college.

No Monday blues.

Just him.

When we finally pulled apart, our foreheads rested lightly together. His breathing was slightly uneven, but his smile was calm.

“Yeah,” he murmured.

“Yeah?” I echoed softly.

“That definitely wasn’t in my head.”

I felt my cheeks warm.

He brushed his thumb gently across my knuckles. “I don’t want lessons anymore."

“Oh?”

“I want more moments like that,” he said. “With you.”

And for the first time since all of this began, I wasn’t scared of hoping.

Because this time, he wasn’t asking out of confusion.

He was choosing me.