Ariane wasn't the top student in the class — not like Nolan or Yara — but she held her own. She was sharp, knew when to speak up, had a presence that turned heads without even trying. People liked her. Not in a "she's the most popular girl" kind of way, but in a way that made her feel seen — even admired, sometimes.
She was the kind of girl who would break into laughter over the smallest thing, who played badminton during free periods with Blaire, who sent far too many texts to Winter at midnight about boys and life and everything in between.
And at the start of the school year, she had a full-blown crush on Nolan.
He was everything: smart, sporty, vice president of the class, and just mysterious enough to keep her overthinking constantly. He had this sharp tongue, though — blunt and sarcastic — and sometimes Ariane would wonder why she liked him so much. But then he'd say her name a certain way or look at her during recitation, and her brain would go spinning again.
Her friends told her he was a little mean. Janella had said, gently, "He doesn't always treat people kindly, Ari." But delusions were loud — and Ariane had a talent for ignoring good advice when she was deep in her feelings.
Then came Yara.
Perfect Yara. Pretty, piano-playing, math-wizard Yara. The kind of girl who could ace a calculus quiz and still have time to comfort someone crying over a low score. She didn't talk much, but when she did, people listened.
And Nolan? Well, everyone knew it. The way he looked at Yara wasn't how he looked at anyone else.
That was when Ariane started to drift back to Earth.
It hurt. Even if no one else knew just how much, it hurt. But she swallowed it down with jokes, distracted herself with schoolwork, and focused on her friends — especially Blaire, Janella, and Winter — who always made sure she never felt alone.
Then Ashton started acting strange.
He wasn't like Nolan. He wasn't polished or perfect. He was chaotic — all over the place — cracking jokes, tossing basketballs, dodging recitation like a ninja. But sometimes... he'd walk beside her in the hallway. He'd ask if she'd eaten. He once gave her his jacket during practice without saying a word.
It was confusing. Sweet, but confusing.
Because Ashton wasn't known to be that guy. He joked with everyone, flirted with most, and half the class was convinced he liked Clarissa — the dancer with the piano hands and the perfect ponytail. Even Ariane used to tease them. "You two would look good together," she had said once, laughing, only to be met with Ashton's blank stare and a "You really think that?"
Still, people talked. Some said he liked Eliana from Section D — that girl he used to crush on last year. Others said Ashton didn't like anyone — that he just liked the attention.
But when it was just the two of them — when they weren't surrounded by Crystal's gossip or Gennifer and Erin's perfect energy — Ashton was different. Gentler. Focused. He'd listen when Ariane spoke. He'd say things like "You should smile more. It suits you." He'd sit a little too close. Laugh a little too long.
And just like that, the signal started.
Not loud. Not clear.
But just enough to make Ariane wonder:
Was it real?
Or just another maybe?
