Thiago

Thiago and... were sitting in their usual spot: the table at the back of the library, where the light fell softly and the noise from the hallway was barely audible. They had finished studying, but neither seemed eager to leave.

...she was doodling in the corner of her notebook, calm as always. Thiago watched her out of the corner of his eye, pretending to be distracted while he twirled a pencil between his fingers.

"You're terrible at drawing," he finally said, breaking the silence.

"I know," he replied calmly, without raising his head. "But it relaxes me."

Thiago rested his elbow on the table, tilting his head slightly.

"I can teach you... if you want," he said, as if offering something unimportant.

She looked at him, surprised. —Since when have you been offering to teach things?

He barely smiled, that smile that almost no one saw.

—Since I discovered that I don't waste my time with you.

...he felt a slight warmth rise in his cheeks. Thiago, on the other hand, pretended he was still looking at his pencil, but his pulse quickened a little.

"You're very strange, Thiago," he murmured.

—And you're very calm for someone who puts up with me —he replied.

They both chuckled softly. They were friends, yes… but there was something more hidden between each word. And although neither of them said it, they both felt it.

It was one of those everyday moments that seemed insignificant, but that changed something inside them without them realizing it.