chapter 3

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."