It's been a good few months. Like, good.

  I'm not gonna lie—after everything that happened last semester, I thought I'd still be stuck in the dark phase. You know, the crying-yourself-to-sleep kind of vibe. But things changed. Slowly. Not magically, like in those fantasy books where the heroine touches some ancient crystal and suddenly all her trauma vanishes. Nah. Mine was more... like little lights switching back on, one at a time.

  Camila helped a lot. She's still the loudest person I know—louder than three fire alarms stacked together—but she's also the most loyal. We got closer this year, and even though we both swore we'd never do that cheesy "best friends forever" bracelet crap, I caught her ordering two custom necklaces online last week. Don't worry, I'll pretend I didn't see.

  Today felt normal. That might not sound impressive, but for me? Normal is a big win.

  We were at lunch, sitting under our usual tree. Camila was munching on hot Cheetos like they owed her money, while I picked apart a turkey sandwich I didn't even want.

  "I swear," she said mid-chew, "if Ms. Kline gives us another pop quiz in chem, I'm transferring to clown college."

  I laughed. "You'd fit in perfectly. Red nose and all."

  She threw a Cheeto at me. I dodged, barely.

  Then it happened.

  Payton walked by.

  He just casually strolled past us with his messy hair, long legs, and that smile that always looks a little shy even when he's not talking to you. And I swear, I almost choked on air.

  Not even food. Air.

  Camila saw. Of course, she saw.

  She paused, blinked, then burst out laughing. "OH MY GOD. You almost DIED just now."

  "I did not!" I said, fanning my face like some 1800s woman in church.

  She leaned in. "Girl. Ask him out."

  "Are you insane?"

  "You've liked him since, like, third grade. You doodled his name on your binder, and your book cover, and that one notebook you 'accidentally lost' when he walked by."

  I rolled my eyes so hard I almost blacked out. "I'm not asking him out. What if he says no? What if he thinks I'm weird?"

  "He already thinks you're weird, babe. But like... in a cute, mysterious-bookworm way."

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  I laughed again. "No. Nope. Let's not ruin what tiny social standing I have left."

  She snorted. "Whatever. Just don't die next time he walks past. You're gonna give me a heart attack."

  After school, Camila got a call and had to leave early—something about her younger brother setting the microwave on fire again. (I genuinely don't understand how that boy is still alive.) So I was walking toward the school gate alone, scrolling through my playlist, wondering if I should stop by the bakery or just go straight home.

  That's when I saw it.

  Woody's car.

  Parked across the road. Windows down. Sunglasses on. Elbow resting against the open window like he belonged in some luxury cologne ad.

  I blinked. Fridays weren't his days. It was usually Monday through Thursday when Madison worked late.

  I hesitated a bit but walked over.

  "You lost?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  He smiled. "Funny. Get in."

  "I thought you didn't do Fridays."

  "I had a meeting close by," he said casually, unlocking the door. "Figured I'd swing by."

  I got in, still a little surprised. Not suspicious—just... surprised.

  Woody's nice. Surprisingly easy to talk to. For someone who's basically a businessman-in-training with more tailored suits than my entire closet combined, he's chill. Since the last few months, he's been picking me up more often, and we've talked. A lot. Never about anything too serious—but never shallow either.

  Today was no different.

  As he drove, I leaned my head back, letting the music fill the silence. Then he broke it.

  "You ever read A Thousand Splendid Suns?" he asked.

  I blinked at him. "What? The Khaled Hosseini book?"

  "Yeah."

  "I cried like a baby. Twice."

  He laughed. "Figures. You seem like a literary masochist."

  "Excuse you, I enjoy pain in emotionally cathartic ways, okay?"

  We both laughed, and he reached over, grabbing something from the passenger-side folder.

  "Here," he said, handing me a flyer. "This is coming up next month."

  I took it, reading aloud: Annual Statewide Creative Writing Competition – Open to High School Students Statewide – Cash Prizes and Publishing Opportunities.

  I raised an eyebrow. "Okay... and?"

  "You should enter."

  I stared at him. "You're kidding."

  "I'm dead serious."

  "No way. I don't even write like that. I mean, I write for me. Not for judges or prize money."

  "But you're good," he said, looking over at me when we stopped at a red light. "You're better than good. And I know talent when I see it."

  I looked away, feeling my ears heat up.

  "It's not really my thing," I mumbled.

  "It is now," he said with a smirk. "Just try. Worst case, you hate it and never do it again. Best case, someone else sees how brilliant you are."

  I stared at the flyer again. My name on a book cover didn't sound bad, exactly. Just... unrealistic.

  Still, I folded it carefully and stuffed it into my bag.

  "Fine," I said. "But only because you bribed me with praise."

  "Praise and potential glory," he added.

  When we pulled into my driveway, I was about to hop out when I paused.

  "You hungry?" I asked. "I was gonna throw something together anyway."

  He looked at his phone like he was checking the time, then shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"

  We walked in.

  Madison was on the couch.

  I froze for a microsecond—not because she was there, but because I forgot she had a half-day today. She looked up, remote in hand, eyebrows raising slightly.

  "I thought you had a meeting," she said to Woody, curious.

  He didn't miss a beat. "Yeah, it got rescheduled. Thought I'd pick her up on the way."

  She nodded slowly. "Right."

  Something weird passed between them. Not tension, not exactly. Just... a pause. Like when the internet buffers mid-show.

  I, being the forever peacemaker, clapped my hands. "Okay! Food time. I'm gonna make something for everyone since we're all here now."

  I didn't miss the way Madison kept glancing over at us while I was grabbing ingredients.

  But I also didn't say anything.

  Because right now, everything was fine.