The library wasn’t the same anymore.

Ever since Marisa had asked that last question — the one that made Nick sigh like some endangered sea creature — something in the air had changed. It had turned soft. Careful. Quiet, like before the rain, when you feel you should whisper.

Nick sat still.The notebooks in front of him were open, but he couldn’t see a single formula — only blurred lines. And the same thoughts pressing on his chest:  What are you so afraid of? She already knows. She’s seen the letter. She’s here. She’s waiting.

But somewhere inside, another Nick was still alive — the one hiding behind jokes and smiles, the one who didn’t know how to speak about real things.

He slowly lifted his head. Marisa’s eyes were calm, resting on him. She didn’t ask anything. And somehow that quiet felt better than anything she could've said.

“Can we…?” Nick cleared his throat. “Can we not stay here?” He didn’t explain — he didn’t need to.

Marisa nodded, short but understanding. Her face remained serious, yet in the corners of her eyes, that familiar warmth flickered — the way she’d been speaking all along.

“The park,” she whispered. “It’s quiet there. And the air’s fresh.”

They began to pack up slowly.

Nick fumbled with his pen, trying to shove it into his pencil case — why did everything feel so damn difficult right now? His fingers trembled. He could feel Marisa’s gaze on him, but she didn’t rush him. Her movements were steady — the kind of steady that belongs to someone who knows there’s no need to hurry.

When the backpack was zipped, Nick paused. He still hadn’t looked up. But he gathered himself and took the first step toward the door. Marisa walked beside him — not behind, not ahead — exactly beside. And that, too, meant something.

Spring was tucking the day away behind the trees, like it didn't want evening to come yet. The light didn’t glare anymore — it brushed. The air felt thick, like warm tea with honey, and silence floated in it. The kind of silence that doesn’t scare you. The kind that happens only when two people understand each other without saying a word.

Nick walked slowly — as if his legs were carrying not a body, but the weight of all the thoughts he hadn’t spoken yet. He felt a little embarrassed by his own drama — but even more afraid that once he told the truth, he’d be… bare.

God, what nonsense? -  He bit his lip.

Marisa stayed quiet — not the “I don’t know what to say” kind of quiet, but the kind that’s careful not to startle something fragile. She looked at the trees, at the pavement, at him — in short glances.

Her eyes were light blue, like the sky before rain. Gentle.

When they turned into the path leading to the school park, everything around them looked a bit like a movie frame. Empty benches. Petals scattered by some tree. A few sunbeams still clinging to the branches.

A bird flew up and vanished just as quickly. It was like the whole world had hit pause, giving them this perfect little bubble of time.

Nick stopped by a bench.

“Is this… okay?” he asked. His voice was a little hoarse, like it hadn’t been used in a while.

“Perfect,” Marisa said. Calm. Warm.

They sat down. And again — silence. But this silence felt different - like it was okay to just sit with it. As soft if you’re ready — I’m here.

They’d only been sitting for a few minutes, but in that kind of silence, time just dragged on forever. Nick stared down. The tiny pebbles by his shoes suddenly seemed way more interesting than any of the thoughts spinning in his head.

“You probably think I’m pathetic,” he muttered finally, not even glancing at her.

Marisa turned her head.

“Why would I think that?” Her voice was quiet, but clear. “Don’t say that. Everyone deals with things differently.”

Her tone wasn’t pitying. It was… normal. Human.

He took a deep breath. And started.

“Nila… I first saw her back in the fall.” He paused. “In the cafeteria. She just walked in — and that was it. Everything else just kinda faded out. The noise, the clinking, the chatter — all faded. I could only see her.”

He gave a small, guilty smile.

Marisa stayed quiet. There was no judgment in her eyes — just something soft. Calm.

“Then I… I kind of watched her,” Nick admitted. “Not like, stalker-watched. Just… I liked knowing when she was around. One time, she waved in my direction. I thought it was for me.”

He gave a weak laugh. “I was on cloud nine, seriously. Couldn’t focus all day. And then I found out she was waving at Sara — who was standing right behind me. So yeah… epic fail.”

He sighed, eyes dropping again.

“I couldn’t talk to her. The words just… stuck. I kept thinking, if I say the wrong thing, she’ll laugh. Or worse — she’ll just not care. So I…” He hesitated. “I wrote a letter.”

A tiny, self-deprecating smile tugged at his lips.

“It was dumb. Maybe too honest. I wrote everything — how I felt, how my hands shake when I see her, how she’s like music to me. Weird, right? But it was real..... I carried it around in my backpack for two months. Not to give it to her — just… as proof I’d done something. Like a little talisman.”

He let out a quiet, humorless chuckle.

“And then… well, you know. The bags got mixed up. And suddenly you were reading what I couldn’t even say out loud. It was terrifying. But also… weirdly freeing. Because someone saw it. And didn’t laugh.”

He lifted his gaze.
“I REALLY AM pathetic, huh?” he whispered, almost to himself. But Marisa heard it — and it cut straight through her.

She looked at him. The way his shoulders curved in, the tight fists, the eyes glued to the ground. Like someone who’d finally taken off their armor and didn’t know what to do without it.

Why does he talk about himself like that?

Marisa drew a slow breath. Then, carefully choosing her words, said:
“Of course not. You’re just… in love.”

Nick blinked — surprised, a little lost. But something in his eyes softened.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Head over heels.” A quiet pause. “You know what’s crazy? I barely even know her. She’s from a different class. I’ve seen her Insta — without following, obviously. Once I liked one of her posts, and my heart nearly exploded. I just hope my like got lost among the others.”

He gave a nervous laugh.
“Sounds creepy, huh? I swear I’m not, like, a stalker or anything. I just… I—”

His voice cracked, and he fell silent.

Marisa smiled softly and gave his shoulder a light pat.

“You’re just… you,” she said quietly. And somehow, it was enough.

Nick exhaled, almost a laugh slipping out.

Marisa tilted her head, studying his face.

“Is she your first crush?” she asked suddenly, before she could stop herself.

“Not exactly,” he said. “I’ve liked people before. But this—this is the first time it hit that hard.”

“I see,” she murmured.

But in her mind, another voice whispered: If only someone felt that way about me. If only someone looked at me like that. She blinked hard. Stop it, Mari. Not the time.

Straightening up, she said, “You just need a plan.”

“A plan?” Nick frowned. “What kind of plan?”

He hesitated.

“I… I guess? I mean… can I?” His cheeks started to turn that signature ruby shade again.

“Of course you can!” Marisa said — and even she was surprised by how confident it sounded. “Have you seen yourself? You’re cute. Tall. Fit. Those green eyes? Come on, any girl would be lucky.”

She froze.  - Wait. What the hell did I just say?- Her cheeks went pink. She quickly looked down, pretending to check something on her sneakers.

Nick blinked. He looked stunned — like someone had just poured a bucket of cold (but kind of nice) water on him.

“Really?” he asked.

Marisa couldn’t hold it in anymore — she laughed. Not at him, but at the moment, at the weird, awkward sweetness of it all. 

Nick smiled — a real one this time.

 “Well… why not. You only live once. Got any ideas?”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty,” she said, eyes lighting up as she grabbed her notebook.

She clicked her pen, her focus sharp now — like she was about to tackle the world's biggest problem.

Across the top of the page, she wrote in big letters:

PLAN: How Not to Mess Up and Actually Ask the Pretty Girl Out