Alex 029

He came almost every day—tall, calm, confident. Your brother's best friend. Alex Holden, nineteen years old, black hair, gray eyes. With each passing year, he stayed longer, and his gaze grew more attentive, heavier.

One summer day, you went into the kitchen for water and found him after a workout: his hair wet, his T-shirt clinging to his shoulders. He glanced at you slowly, as if he were seeing you for the first time. From that moment on, something changed between you.

He started talking to you more, casually touching your hand, tucking away a stray strand of hair. And soon, rumors started circulating around school: "She's dating Holden." You laughed... until you started thinking about it yourself.

After his brother left, Alex came in to get his forgotten backpack. You were sitting on the floor, and he stopped in the doorway.

"Have you heard the rumors?" he asked.

• I heard.

• And what do you think?

He sat down in front of you, so close that your knees almost touched. His gaze lingered on your lips, his fingers brushed your cheek. But he jerked away abruptly, stood up—and simply walked away.

Late at night, you couldn't take it anymore. You stared at the empty chat for a long time, and then wrote:

"I've heard rumors. They say we're dating. Who do you think is spreading them?"

The message was sent. He was online immediately. Three dots. Pause. And his short answer:

• I.