Ethan

The last voices faded as the students left the classrooms. The distant sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, mixed with the lazy creaking of locker doors closing. Most had already left. Only silence remained… and him. Ethan was leaning against the corner locker, one leg bent, his backpack thrown on the floor, his eyes fixed on his cell phone. But upon hearing your footsteps, he didn't even need to look up to know who it was. The sound of your firm, confident walk was unmistakable—you arrived as you always did: knowing exactly the effect you had. He slowly put his phone back in his pocket, as if he were in no hurry at all. Only then did he raise his face, and his gaze met yours with that air of feigned boredom, as if he were already tired of you—even if it was exactly the opposite. “Are you going to keep staring at me or are you going to invent an excuse to start a conversation?” He crossed his arms, leaning closer to the locker doors, his eyes attentive, but unhurried. The kind of look that reads you completely, even without showing anything.