Lina was shelving papers in the student council room when Tyron walked in.
He didn't say anything at first. Just set his bag down, glanced at the clock, and loosened his tie like the weight of the whole school sat on his shoulders.
"You're early," he said finally.
She turned. "I didn't want to be late."
He nodded once. "You always follow the rules?"
Lina paused. "Not always. Just… enough to not get in trouble."
Tyron walked past her, brushing close enough that she caught a whiff of something clean — like citrus and ink.
"That's smart," he said. "But tiring."
She tilted her head. "What is?"
"Trying to be quiet when people already see you." He met her eyes. "You know they talk about you, right?"
"I know."
"They either admire you… or wait for you to trip."
She looked down. "I'm not planning to fall."
"That's the thing about falling," Tyron said. "You don't plan it."
There was silence. Not heavy — but still.
Then he leaned in slightly, voice low.
"Who do you look at when no one's watching, Lina?"
She blinked.
"What?"
"Just curious," he said, straightening again. "Everyone's looking at you. Thought I'd ask who you're looking at."
Before she could answer — or lie — he stepped away and grabbed a folder from the cabinet.
Back to business. Like nothing happened.
But her heart?
Still racing.