STRINGS BETWEEN US

CHAPTER TWELVE: OF INTERCOM SCANDALS, HOODIE RETREATS,

"I can hear you, Barbie. Say it with your whole chest."

Gasps. Hair flip. Maldita mode: activated.

But beneath the eyeliner? I was tired. I missed the quiet. The terrace. The KD who didn't always wear a blazer. I missed... him.

So let them guess. Let the rumors fly. Let KD smirk like he knows something they don't.

Let the games begin.

The terrace is supposed to be my safe space.
But lately, even it feels filled with the kind of silence I don't like.
The kind that feels like something's missing.

I stepped out. Hoodie on. Fries in hand.
No noise. No people. Just wind and my frustration.

"Ten seconds," I whispered. "Peace and quiet."

Then... footsteps.

Oh no, not today, please.

"If you're a ghost, not today. If you're KD, double not today."

"Territorial now, are we?" His voice—low, familiar, unbothered.

I didn't even turn. "Wow. You're still alive."

"I was... busy."

"I know. Saving SAA. Not eating."

Silence.

I could feel his eyes on me. Analyzing. Reading through my sarcasm like always.

"Thanks," he said softly.

"For what? Death glares? Eye rolls? The frown face?"

He smirked. "The note."

I looked away. "Maybe that was from your secret admirer."

"Cute admirer. A little bratty, though."

I raised a brow. "You're not funny."

"You say that while trying not to laugh."

"Maybe I just choked on air."

He stepped closer. "They're talking about you again."

"Let them. I don't even know how to break up with my imaginary boyfriend this week."

He chuckled. "You okay?"

"Nope. But like I told Jodie—I'm beautiful. That's enough."

He looked at me. Genuinely.
With that annoying sincerity I can never ignore.

"Saw it, you know. At the cafeteria. You looked tired."

"And you looked happy. You even smiled."

"You noticed?"

"Of course I did," I snapped—before I could stop myself.

He tilted his head.
"Then we're even. I notice when you fake your smile, too."

Touché.

He always did that—cut through the noise and go straight to the truth I try to bury.

I stood up, grabbed my fries. "I'm out. Too crowded here."

He didn't stop me.
But before I could leave, he spoke.

"See you at the ball."

I didn't look back.

KD'S POV

I saw it before first period. Tucked behind my planner like a ninja move.
Still warm. Carefully packed.
With a note:

"Eat. Or I'll haunt you."

There was a frown face. Ugly. Crooked lines. Not artist-level.
But I knew it.

I knew the handwriting. I knew the tone.
I knew her.

Of course she didn't wait. Of course she'd pretend it wasn't her.
That's Rielle.
Pretends she doesn't care—but proves she does in the most unexpected ways.

She noticed.

That I haven't been eating.
That I've lost weight.
That I haven't been on the terrace.

And instead of calling me out in front of everyone, she just... showed up.
Silently. Authentically.

I wanted to say something.
Say thank you.
Crack a joke, like before.
But nothing came out.

Everything I wanted to say stayed stuck between my teeth.

Then came the chaos.
Cafeteria. Intercom.
Errol, being Errol.

"Miss Rielle Del Rio is officially off the market..."

So loud.
The stares. The questions. The theories.

"Who's the mystery guy?"
"Maybe a college boyfriend!"
"Maybe it's Pres?"

I stood there in the hallway—mid-step, mid-breath.
Then I smiled.

Just a little. Almost invisible. But real.

Not because I liked the rumor.
But because someone—finally—noticed her the way I always did.

She walked out like she didn't care, but I saw the crack in her walls.
I saw the flicker in her eyes when she looked my way.
I saw her.

And maybe this time, we're done pretending.

I don't need to post.
I don't need to announce it to the world.

Because I already know who my date to the ball is.

I carefully unfolded the note again. Same words. Same messy drawing. Still warm. Still her. And maybe... still mine.

Still her.
And maybe...
Still mine.

Even if she never says it out loud, I'll know.
Because she noticed.
Because I always do.