I blinked, shocked at that random thought.

Why was I noticing his eyes? That was...weird.

“Yeah, um... it’s the cape. It’s not flowing right, and I’ve been working at it for hours,” I said with a sigh, refocusing on the page.

“Hm. I see what you mean.” He nodded his head, still hovering over me. He was so close and it was beginning to feel uncomfortable with how close he was.

Who was this guy?

“Sorry, did you need something?” I asked — a little sharper than I meant to. But he didn’t seem fazed. He just pulled out the chair beside me and sat down like he belonged there.

“Nah, just wanted to see what you were working on. People at this school don’t seem very artsy. Everyone’s kind of...” He glanced around the cafeteria, but I already knew what he meant.

“Uptight,” I said.

He let out a dramatic sigh. “Yeah! Exactly. Up-fucking-tight,” he laughed — and I found myself laughing too.

He wasn’t wrong. Creativity wasn’t exactly encouraged here.

“I kind of just keep my head down. I’m pretty much invisible,” I muttered, eyes drifting back to my sketch.

“Is that what you think you are? Invisible?” he asked. Our eyes reconnected as he looked me over, as though he was trying to figure me out.

I paused. I didn’t even know this guy and I found myself concerned of what he thought of me. Why did I care?

The truth was, I didn’t want him to know how much of a loner I was considered here. No one really talked to me. Not without cause, truthfully. I mostly kept to myself. Honestly, I hadn’t realized how lonely I was until that moment. That brief conversation felt like coming up for air — and I hadn’t even realized I was drowning.

“I don’t really fit in, I guess. Unless you’re an honor roll student or throwing a football, people don’t really notice you, I guess.” I finally admitted.

I looked over to gauge his reaction, his right side of his mouth quirking up into a smile, bright and easy. It made my cheeks warm instantly.

“Well, I suck at school, and I can’t throw a ball for shit. So, I guess I’ll be an outcast too.” He shrugged.

“That makes sense,” I laughed. Only, nothing about him screamed outcast to me. Not in the way that I was.

It was such a simple exchange, but it felt monumental. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt at ease with someone. He was just... different. Not like anyone else I’d met before.

The bell rung, cutting through the moment and signaling the end of lunch. He pushed up from his chair and started toward the door. I felt a sharp, unexpected drop in my stomach. I didn’t want him to go.

He stopped suddenly, turning back toward me, a salmon swimming upstream through the sea of students pouring out of the cafeteria.

“What’s your name?” he called out.