Yes, yes, my brain had the audacity to include Raven Payne in my dreams.

No, no, I’d rather not tell what happened in them.
Honestly, just the thought about it made me want to crawl under my bed, wrap myself in a blanket burrito, and pretend I was a sock that got lost in the laundry. Or better yet, turned into a chunky wedge of Gouda and be devoured by a sweet, clueless mouse who has no idea I used to have feelings and pride.

This morning, I was wide awake. Too awake. Like “I filtered my coffee with energy drink instead of water” kind of awake. The memories from my dream were still clinging to me like an endless supply of soap in the shower—it just wouldn’t wash off. So, naturally, I walked over to the nearest wall and gently—but firmly—banged my head against it. Repeatedly.

Because clearly, self-inflicted wall therapy is where I was at this point.

How could I, Super-Miri, fearless avenger of creepy hallway stalkers, suddenly become the leading lady in her own flirty fever dream featuring her emotionally confusing arch-nemesis?
I mean, come on! We’d sparred, for crying out loud. I’d flipped him. Flipped him. The guy had hit the hallway floor with an embarrassing oof and the grace of a startled goose. I’d felt so good. I was winning. And now my subconscious had the nerve to replay him in soft lighting and slow motion? Even giving him his own melodic theme like we were starring in a K-Drama?
No. Absolutely not. I was calling a mental time-out.

I stumbled into the bathroom, forehead red from my bout with the wall, praying my mom wouldn’t ask why I looked like a tomato that had been mildly slapped. This wasn’t just “off-balance.” This was upside-down on a trampoline while being screamed at by emotions off-balance.

Not even my dad’s vanishing act had scrambled my brain this badly. And that man literally disappeared like a magician with commitment issues—poof, and no encore.

I hated this. Hated feeling things. Especially for the one person who made me feel like I was being emotionally waterboarded every time he smiled at me.

I needed a plan. A declaration of war. Something decisive to break the curse.

I couldn’t wait for Raven to stroll in with his messy hair and soul-slicing cheekbones and ruin my sense of self again. No. This time, I was going to march up to him—look him straight in his stupidly pretty eyes—and say something bold. Something fearless. Something like:

“Hey, we need to talk. About boundaries. And also maybe why your jawline looks like it was sculpted by a vengeful god."

Okay, maybe not that. But something strong. Maybe. We’d see.

Once the mark on my forehead faded enough that I no longer looked like a malfunctioning siren, I finished getting ready. While tying my shoes, I casually shouted to my mom that I’d be late today because of parkour. Not that she questioned it—she was just happy I was doing something active and hadn’t spontaneously combusted from teen angst.

Truthfully, I was very ready for practice. Not only because I could blow off steam, and even though the “idiot duo” would be my personal escorts, I was honestly kind of excited about it.

And anything—literally anything—was better than spending the whole day wondering if I’d ever see that same look in Raven’s eyes again.

Ugh. There it was. Again.

Time to launch Operation: Emotional Ice Bucket. I just had to survive the day without doing something completely embarrassing.

I said goodbye to my mom and left the apartment. On the way to the bus, I found myself looking forward to seeing Cassy. I was sure she'd be a good distraction.

And to her credit, she was. We chatted about our plans for tomorrow—normal stuff, light and easy. But my brain had other plans. It wasn’t long before that shaggy, pale-haired nuisance shoved his way back into my thoughts. I tried to keep up the conversation, but it was like trying to read a book while someone played the drums on my skull. Cassy noticed. Of course she did.

I inhaled deeply and exhaled like someone trying to blow out a forest fire. Could I really talk to her about this? I mean, I'd never told anyone before. Not even the girls I used to hang out with at my old school—not even when we sat around whispering about celebrity crushes and secrets like we were prepping for a group therapy session. I always deflected. Laughed it off. But with Cassy, something felt different. Still, all I could muster was a crooked smile.

“So something’s up,” she said, not letting it go. She planted her hands firmly on her thighs and stared at me like she could see the thoughts bouncing around inside my head.
I sighed and slumped a little. “Oh, it’s about a boy, isn’t it?” she added, eyes lighting up like she’d just solved a murder. She even tossed in a little conspiratorial grin for flair.

“No! I mean—I hate boys,” I snapped, louder than I meant to. She blinked, taken aback, and then her expression softened into something... too kind.

“Why? Did someone hurt you?” she asked gently, like she already knew the answer and was just waiting for me to confirm it.

I pulled a face. One of those confused-squiggly-mouth ones. “Not me…”

Her gaze didn’t budge. Patient. Kind. Annoyingly understanding. Waiting for me to elaborate. So I gave in.
“It’s my dad,” I said finally. “He left my mom, well… us, for someone else. Just walked out and disappeared. Poof. Like a magician without the courtesy of a finale.”
As soon as I said it, my chest tightened. I couldn’t believe I actually told someone. I'd never said that out loud. Not to my mom. Not to any teacher. Not even to my so-called best friends back then. It always felt too heavy. Too shameful. Like if I put it into words, it would become real all over again.

Cassy reached over and placed her hand gently on mine. She gave it a reassuring pat—like the physical equivalent of “I’ve got you.”

“I’m sorry. That must’ve been awfully hard,” she said quietly.

I shook my head. “He was an ass,” I muttered coldly.

Her eyes sharpened just slightly. Still soft—but now with something steely underneath.

“Miri… I can see you’re hurting a lot. So, please don’t take this the wrong way.” She said slowly. “Just because he was a coward with commitment issues doesn’t mean the whole male species is beyond saving.”

I blinked. Wow. Okay. That one landed. Right in the gut.

“What, so you're saying there’s hope?” I raised an eyebrow. “You mean somewhere out there is a rare unicorn of a man who won’t ditch his family for a younger model and a midlife crisis?”

Cassy laughed lightly but didn’t back down. “Yes. And no, he's not extinct—just really good at hiding behind all the idiots who give him a bad name.”

Her little TED Talk hit harder than I expected. I hadn’t thought about it like that. I mean, sure, there were jerks. But all of them? Every single guy in existence? I clung to the belief like it was armour, but Cassy had just poked a big, gaping hole in it.
Could it be that... I was wrong?

No. Maybe. Ugh. I guess, time would tell.

She just patted my hand again and smiled. And somehow, her smile felt like both a comfort and a challenge.
“Think about it, sweetie. I have to go.” she said with a hint of regret. “I’ll call you later about tomorrow. See you then. And don’t let anyone annoy you.”

Before I could respond, she was already gone—leaving me behind with even more confused thoughts than before.
Today, Lea hadn’t overslept—shocking, I know. As usual, she was waiting for me at our stop, bright-eyed and blissfully unaware of the existential crisis swirling around in my brain. We started walking toward school together, and I had to admit, she was also pretty good at keeping my thoughts distracted. Or at least muffled under layers of cheerful small talk and bizarre animal facts. (Seriously, who knew octopuses had three hearts? Why do they need that much love?)
Then, like an air raid siren made of teenage testosterone, the “idiot duo” came thundering past us.
“Don’t forget to change after school before we go to practice!” they yelled in unison, as if they were auditioning for a musical called Parkour Dummies: The Loudest Broadway Disaster.

I was genuinely impressed they managed to shout the exact same sentence at the exact same time without tripping over each other.

I gave Lea a deadpan look and explained their message. She blinked, nodded, and immediately got us back to our previous conversation, like nothing had happened. Respect.
Meanwhile, my thoughts kept circling back to the walking headache in designer jeans—Raven.
How was I supposed to approach him? Should I even try? Or should I keep pretending he doesn’t exist and let him come to me like some overly dramatic bee to a sarcastic flower?

At least he hadn’t appeared before class today. That alone felt like a small miracle—like the universe had temporarily granted me a Raven-free bubble. Praise be.

I pushed through the first few lessons, nodding and scribbling like a model student. I even managed to answer one question with something vaguely coherent. No one noticed I was zoning out like a laptop running too many tabs—another win for Team Miri.

Now all I had to do was survive the day, avoid spontaneous emotional combustion, and maybe—just maybe—deal with the whole Raven mess like a semi-functioning human being.

Easy, right?

When the bell rang for recess, Lea and I were mildly crushed to see it had started drizzling outside again. So much for our grand plans of fresh air and Vitamin D. Back to cafeteria exile it was. We joined Mollie and Kyle at a table and started chatting—well, they did. I just nodded occasionally while scanning the room like a paranoid meerkat.
Where was that stupid, tall, obnoxiously attractive stalker? He usually hovered like a moth around my emotional flame. And yet... nowhere.
And then, as if summoned by sheer annoyance, I spotted him. His ice-blue eyes were locked on me from across the room. Only this time, I didn’t look away first. He did. Then he turned and walked off.

Suspicious.

Without thinking, I leapt to my feet. “Excuse me,” I mumbled to the others, already mid-power-walk. I didn’t wait for replies—I was on a mission.
I nearly lost him in the crowd, but thanks to his height and that mop of fluffy light hair, which bobbed like a pale beacon of awkward unfinished business through the students, I was able to track him. His path led him straight out into the courtyard. It almost felt like he knew I was following him—like he was luring me out on purpose.
Thanks to the weather, the courtyard was completely empty. As soon as we stepped outside, Raven made a beeline for the small snack bar. It was closed (cafeteria supremacy and all that), but he ducked under the awning to escape the drizzle. Then he turned around and—surprise—smiled. Shyly. What? No trademark cocky grin?
We were about two meters apart.
“Don’t you think you have something to explain to me?” I asked, trying to sound cool and matter-of-fact. I could practically feel my nerves doing cartwheels behind my ribs, but I held my ground. Points for that, at least.
“Uhm, yeah. I think I do,” he said. The smile faded slightly. He scratched the back of his head, sheepish. I raised an eyebrow at him, waiting.
“Then shoot,” I prompted, folding my arms.
“Um, so…about yesterday…” Raven began, already squirming like he’d rather be anywhere else. It was interesting to see his usual composed self falter a little. Had it affected him as much as it did me? His hands kept fidgeting—through his hair, into his jacket pockets, back out again. He was all nervous limbs and tragic eye contact. “I didn’t really plan it or anything. It just… happened. You were suddenly standing so close, and I don’t know.  Then there was that smell—wait, not like a bad smell, just—like your shampoo, or something? And my brain just sort of… melted. I didn’t mean to—”
“Okay! That’s enough, I’ve heard more than enough,” I cut him off, raising a hand like I was stopping traffic. My face was a bonfire, my insides tangled in so many knots I could’ve been mistaken for a pretzel. Did he hear himself? This surely couldn’t get any more embarrassing. And what was that about some smell?! I wished the floor would open up and swallow me whole.
I blinked at him. My heart was already beating out of rhythm, but I still managed to keep my voice steady. “Okay. Fine. You felt something. Great. But then…” I folded my arms. “Why didn’t you go for it?”
His brow furrowed. “Go for what?”
Did he really want me to spell it out for him? I rolled my eyes. “You know exactly what I mean, Raven. You leaned in like some melodramatic movie character, but then you just—stopped. So what was it? Change your mind mid-swoon? Realised I’m not your type? Afraid your hair gel would scare me off?”

He looked startled—like I’d just pulled the floor out from under him. “Wait, you would have wanted me…?”

I instantly regretted every life choice. What had I just said?! Curiosity really did kill the cat. “No! I mean—I didn’t not—ugh!” I clapped a hand over my mouth to stop my blabbering. “Ignore everything I just said. Better! Delete it from your brain. And the trash folder as well, just in case!”
Raven stood there, completely baffled, like someone had just handed him a Rubik’s cube with feelings.

“I’m leaving now,” I declared, stepping backward.
“Miri, wait—”

“Nope!” I snapped, not wanting to hear another word and marching off with a forced sense of purpose—only to immediately slip on a wet tile. My foot skidded out with all the grace of a baby giraffe on roller skates.

“Wh—NOPE I’M FINE!” I called out mid-stumble, arms flailing like I was directing a one-woman airplane. “This is just my signature move! The exit lunge! Very exclusive!”

I caught myself on the corner of a bench, somehow managed to bow to bewildered ants on the floor, and storm-hobbled off with my remaining dignity flapping in the breeze behind me. 

Behind me, I could feel his gaze burning a hole between my shoulder blades. Probably wondering if I needed medical assistance or a therapist. Honestly, I was wondering the same. Why had I thought it was a good idea to confront Raven?!

As soon as I entered the school building again, the bell to end recess rang and I headed straight back to the classroom.
During the next lesson, Lea wouldn’t stop pestering me about what had been so urgent earlier or whether I’d “met someone.” I didn’t really feel like explaining, so I brushed her off with something vague—claimed, rather strangely, that the cafeteria food had made me feel sick. Eventually, she bought it, and I silently thanked the universe for blessing me with a friend as wonderfully naive as her. Anyone else would’ve grilled me to death. Least of all… well, never mind.

After the final bell, I said goodbye to Lea and headed to the girls’ restroom to change. Today, I’d brought along my mom’s oversized sweatpants and a seaweed coloured sweater, since the weather was doing its best impression of a moody art film.