Today, the lunch ladies were serving curry and salads, and I ended up getting both. Just like yesterday, the food was served in those disposable plastic containers. And, just like yesterday, Jake had already paid for my lunch before I even had the chance to reach for my wallet. He flashed me a sly smile as he handed over his own money for his meal, and I couldn't help but smile back.

We made our way through the crowded cafeteria, and I tried to ignore the curious stares that seemed to follow us. Jake led me to a small table in the corner, tucked away near a window that looked out into the parking lot. Beyond it, I could see a large grassy field—probably the school's oval—and in the distance, the mountains were half-hidden by the clouds.

The view was surprisingly beautiful, a rare sight in the middle of such an ordinary school day. I let out a quiet breath, grateful for the moment of calm in the middle of everything.

"It's lovely, isn't it?" Jake said, watching me stare out the window. "It's my favourite place to sit."

Jake and I took a seat on opposite sides of the table, and silently ate our lunch. I was looking down at the table, yet I could feel Jake's gaze on me. The silence hung low, and was beginning to feel slightly awkward. He noticed this to, because he broke the tension before it became overwhelming.

"This is going to sound really strange," he said, his voice quiet but earnest. I glanced up, noticing a mixture of emotions flickering in his eyes—something deep, almost vulnerable, but clouded with uncertainty.

"Tell me," I said, encouraging him to speak.

He hesitated, then looked at me with intensity. "Is it just me, or does it feel like... even though we've only known each other for two days, it's like we've known each other for years?"

I paused, considering his words. It was true. From the moment we met, there had been an undeniable connection, an unspoken understanding between us. It was as if everything about him felt familiar, even though we were practically strangers.

"Now that I think about it," I murmured, "yeah. I suppose it does feel like that."

He nodded swiftly before hastily changing the conversation. "So. What do you think about Mythcrest High?"

"Honestly," I laughed, "it kind of stinks. Like literally. It reeks like sweat."

"You'll get used to it," he laughed.

"Yeah it's fine, I guess," I smiled, switching to a more serious answer. "My classes are cool, and the people are nice enough."

"What classes do you take?"

"English, Drama, Biology, US History, Mathematics, and Physical Education"

"Nice. What's your favourite so far?"

"Drama." I had no intention of telling him why.

"And your Least favourite?"

"I hate PE. Yesterday I was so puffed after, I could barely walk to my own car."

"Really? You seem like quite an athletic person," he chuckled.

I sighed. "I'm very uncoordinated, but I can do track."

"That's my favourite. We'll have to go running some time."

"Yeah. That would be great."

Our conversation stopped there, and we continued to silently eat our pizza and salad. Before there was a chance for the awkwardness to return, I spoke.

"We should probably get off to class soon. I wouldn't want to be late on my second day."

He looked down at a watch on his left wrist, nodded, and slowly stood up. "You have biology?"

"Yeah."

"I have psychology, so we can walk together, if you want."

"Sounds good." I looked away quickly, covering the warm blush that spread across my cheeks.

Jake and I walked out of the cafeteria together, turning right into the nearest hall. As we walked, I noticed Yasmine standing near the door, arms crossed and eyes sharp. She was waiting for me, her stance already impatient. When she saw Jake, she shot him a brief look before he flashed me a smile and waved goodbye. Before he even had the chance to turn away, Yasmine grabbed my elbow, pulling me into the classroom.

The classroom was large and white, benches attached to the walls with stools lined up on each side. We made our way to the same bench as yesterday—the one at the end of the room—settling into our usual spot, facing away from the back wall.

Mr. Stanley entered just as we got comfortable, telling us to get our notebooks ready. We spent the rest of the lesson taking notes on animal cells and their functions. My mind was a bit distracted, but I managed to keep up.

When the pop quiz was announced at the end of class, Yasmine, ever the strategist, leaned over and copied my answers, but I didn't mind.

Finally, after what felt like hours of endless suffering, Yasmine and I left the classroom together. She had home economics next, so I headed to US History on my own. Mrs. Numan was a great teacher, but the subject was incredibly dull. As she called the roll, a familiar name rang out—Luca Marino. The Italian guy Yas had mentioned yesterday.

I must have missed him the day before, distracted by everything else on my mind, but now I paid close attention. As Yasmine's best friend, I felt it was my duty to keep her updated on everything, and that included this guy. Luca walked into the classroom just as Mrs. Numan called his name and took a seat at the table next to me.

"Hey," he said. At first, I didn't realise he was talking to me, but then I looked over and saw him watching me closely.

"Hi," I replied. I could see what Yasmine meant—Luca was undeniably good-looking. His features were sharp and symmetrical, his voice smooth, and his build impressive. But something about him felt almost too perfect, like it wasn't entirely real.

"You must be Kay. Your friend Yasmine has told me lots about you." He sounded very American, much to my surprise, but had a hint of Italian underneath a few words.

"Yeah. She's mentioned you as well." I didn't really feel like having a conversation with him, so I tried to keep my responses short to get my word across.

"Really?" I noticed his carefully concealed expressions, as if hoping he wouldn't give too much away, but I noticed a slight glint in his eyes as I mentioned her. "I was wondering if maybe I could get her phone number?"

"Of course!" I said, a little to enthusiastically. He looked slightly taken aback, but maintained his careful composure. "I'll write it down for you."

I tore a corner out of my book, scribbled in the nine digits, and handed it to him. He read over the number, said thanks, then looked ahead, listening to the teacher.

Luca didn't speak to me for the rest of the lesson, and I found it hard to focus on Mrs. Numan's lecture. My mind kept wandering to lunch and what I would say to Yasmine—if I even sat with her today.

I couldn't deny that I was hoping Jake would ask me to sit with him again, but a small part of me felt guilty. Yasmine was my best friend, and I didn't want her to feel left out. If Jake did ask, I planned to tell him I couldn't ditch Yasmine today, but I'd join him tomorrow.

The lunch bell snapped me out of my thoughts, and I hurried to the cafeteria, eager for a break from class.

I scanned the entire cafeteria, but I couldn't see Jake anywhere. I felt disappointment settle in my stomach, then cursed myself. No way I was going to let someone I met yesterday make me disappointed. I shouldn't even like him so much. It had been two days.

I saw Yas at the front of the lunch line, so I jumped in behind her.

"I have so much to tell you," I whispered into her ear.

"Is it about Jake?" She said with a sour expression.

"No." I heard a slightly offended tone in my voice, so I said my next words carefully. "It's about Luca."

"Oh my gosh! The Italian Luca?"

"Obviously. What other Luca would I be talking about."

We paid for our muffin and coffee, and sat down in an emptier part of the cafeteria, hoping for privacy.

Yasmine was watching me carefully, waiting for me to start talking.

"Alrighty," I started. "Don't freak out, but he asked for your number."

"What?" She shrieked, ignoring my instructions. "He asked for my number?"

"Yes," I huffed. I number of people turned their heads towards us as she screamed and giggled with unimaginable joy.

When I finally got her to calm down, she began asking for details.

"So. What exactly, word-for-word, did he say? And what was his expressions like? Did he look embarrassed, or excited, or nervous, or what?"

I recounted every little detail, with Yasmine listening attentively. I heard a ding come from her pocket.

"OMG SOMEONE JUST TEXTED ME!"

"Shhh, quiet down a bit," I muttered, embarrassed by her loudness.

"It doesn't matter," she said with definite disappointment covering her tone. "It was just my mum asking what I want for dinner."

I suppressed a laugh, not wanting to sound rude. "It's okay," I said. "He'll probably text you after school sometime."

I felt my laughter morph into some other emotion. I couldn't tell exactly what it was, but with my pumping heart and heavy breathing, I couldn't quite pinpoint it. Something between envy, wishful hoping, and a strong desire to punch something. After a few minutes of trying to figure out what I was feeling, I realised that I was jealous of Yas. I wanted to feel what she was feeling.

I felt guilt rip at my heart, and I immediately pushed those feelings away. I looked up to see a startled look on Yasmine's face.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lied.

"Okay." She sounded unconvinced.

Yasmine and I didn't talk until we got the class, both of us lost in our own thoughts. We walked into maths, opened the door, and sat at a 5-person table.

There was an uncomfortable tension hanging between us, which was unusual, so I squashed down the unease into the bottom most depths of my stomach.

Mathematics was as boring as ever. I didn't care the slightest bit about the diameter of a circle, or how to use Pythagoras Theorem. But I was very studious, so I completed all of the assigned work within thirty minutes; and like always, Yas copied.

The final class of the day was PE, much to my disappointment. I had been positively dreading it all day, knowing full well how much I hated it.

In fact, if it weren't for Yas, I would probably die in this class.

Thankfully, the awkwardness dissipated over the next hour and we where both back to our chatty, dramatic, beautiful selves.

After HPE, I dropped Yasmine off at home before heading straight to my room to tackle my homework. This time, I refused to let exhaustion win—I wasn't about to risk my mum stepping in to "help" again.

That night, I had an uneasy sleep. Once again, Jake was the only thing I could thing about. It was becoming frustrating how often I was thinking about him. No matter how many times I tried to tell myself I'd known him for less than forty-eight hours, and I shouldn't already be feeling this strongly, I kept getting a sinking feeling in my stomach. Was he feeling the same? Or was I just going crazy?