Strings of Fate: The First Loop

CHAPTER 8

I looked down at my notebook, still covered in messy notes and circles and underlines.

All for her.

And in that moment, all I wanted to do was be someone worthy of her gaze. Someone she could trust to stay when things got hard. Someone who noticed her pain without pointing them out. Someone who held on.

Because she already felt like home, and I hadn’t even kissed her yet.

She opens her notebook, smooths the page with her palm, and starts talking.

Something about metaphors, I think. Or maybe something else. I’m trying to listen, I really am, but the curve of her shoulder distracts me. The way her hair falls when she leans forward. The soft, rhythmic tapping of her pen as she speaks.

Every word she says sinks into me, not just in my ears but in the space just behind my ribs. She has this voice that moves like water, cool, steady, and low. It fills the quiet between us, and I let it wash over me, let it settle into the corners of my brain. Even when my thoughts drift, her voice lingers, like background music I can’t mute.

But every time her elbow brushes mine, every time her fingers graze the edge of my book when she points at a line, I freeze.

Like my skin recognizes her before my brain does.

I keep glancing at her. More than I should. And every time I do, I catch something I’m not supposed to see—a flicker in her eyes, a pause in her breath, the way her tongue nervously grazes her bottom lip before she speaks again.

She’s doing it too.

Looking when she thinks I won’t notice.

At one point, our eyes meet.

It’s brief. Barely a second. But my heart stumbles in my chest like it tripped over itself.

She looks away first. Pretends to reread a line. Tucks her hair behind her ear like that’ll cover the heat rising in her cheeks.

Then, like she needs to break the silence before it swallows us, she says, “I like your cologne.”

My breath catches. Just for a second. I don’t say anything right away. I just sit there, stunned, a grin fighting its way up before I can stop it.

“Oh,” I say casually, but my voice cracks on the word. “Thanks.”

And there it is, that feeling again. Like someone lit a match in my chest. A wave of warmth rushes over me, pride and thrill colliding. The extra spray paid off.

“Thought I’d try smelling like someone who actually has his life together.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Bold of you to assume smelling nice counts as having your life together.”

“I don’t see you complaining.”

“I never said I was impressed.”

“You said you liked it.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

I lean back in my chair, watching her pretend not to smile.

“It’s already there,” I murmur.

She rolls her eyes, but the pink in her cheeks gives her away. And then I push, just a little, because I can’t help it.

“Careful, Betty. If you keep complimenting me like that, people will think you’re falling for me.”

She scoffs, flipping a page a little too fast. “Yeah. Sure. Maybe when I lose my mind.”