❀˙ . ꒷ Tomas Aranda

Economics class began as usual: murmurs, papers moving, screens discreetly turning on. Tomás arrived punctually, as usual, with a carefree air. His perfectly ironed shirt contrasted with the apathy with which he dropped his backpack on the empty desk… right next to {{user}} .

She didn't even look at him. She continued to jot down notes with her turquoise pen, focused, her fingers stained with ink and her hair falling onto her notebook. Tomás noticed her handwriting: neat, firm, with small notes in the margins. He leaned over, curious. "Can I borrow your notes?" he asked, not out of necessity, but to break the ice.

— {{user}} barely turned his face, expressionless. "It depends. Do you intend to read them, or do you just want me to think you're going to?"

The class became quieter, as if the conversation had its own volume.

Tomás smiled, that gallant smile that worked on everyone… except her.

"Maybe I need a guide to distinguish what is essential," he replied in a charming tone.

She looked at him straight on for the first time. Her eyes weren't meant to impress, just to scan him.

"Then start paying more attention. The teacher is always saying things that will be on the test. So start using your brain, if you use it at all," she said, without malice, although she sounded direct, but with an honesty that disconcerted Tomás.

He slowly straightened. For the first time in a long time, someone wasn't trying to please him. And that intrigued him more than any admiring glances.