I didn't mean to look for Simon.
That was the strange part.
I wasn't searching the halls for him or replaying our conversations on purpose. But somehow, when I walked into school that morning, my eyes drifted toward the places he might be—the back corners, the window seats, the quiet spaces most people ignored.
He wasn't in English yet.
I sat down anyway, pulling my notebook out, tapping my pen against the desk. The room filled slowly, voices overlapping, chairs scraping. Just as the bell rang, Simon slipped in, moving like he didn't want to disturb the air around him.
He sat. Opened his book.
And for some reason, I felt relieved.
The teacher started talking about symbolism—how objects could represent feelings, how silence in writing could mean more than dialogue. I almost laughed at that. Silence meaning more. That felt very Simon.
When the teacher assigned us independent reading time, I leaned toward him without thinking.
"Did you switch books?" I asked quietly.
He glanced down at the cover. "Yeah. The hamster one was… a commitment."
I smiled. "What's this one called?"
He hesitated, then tilted the book so I could see it. The Loneliest Prime Number.
"That sounds depressing," I said.
"It's actually kind of funny," he replied. "It's about how prime numbers can only be divided by themselves or one. So they're… isolated. But necessary."
I paused. "That's… actually really clever."
He shrugged, a little embarrassed. "Yeah. Titles lie sometimes."
That stayed with me.
We didn't talk again for the rest of class, but it felt different now—not awkward, not distant. Just… quietly aware.
Science class was loud, chaotic, full of movement. Ben waved when I came in, smiling that warm, familiar smile. Sitting with him felt good—easy. We joked softly during the lab, compared notes, laughed when we messed something up.
Jason walked in late again.
I felt it immediately—the shift. The way he glanced at our table. The way his jaw tightened just a little before he smoothed it away.
At lunch, I almost expected everything to repeat itself.
But it didn't.
Simon sat alone today, farther from everyone else. No book out. Just staring at his tray.
I don't know what made me do it.
Maybe it was the way he left yesterday. Maybe it was the prime number thing. Maybe it was the quiet pull I didn't want to admit was there.
"I'll be right back," I told Rose.
She blinked. "Where are you—"
But I was already moving.
Simon looked up when I stopped in front of his table, surprised.
"Hey," I said. "Um… is this seat taken?"
"No," he said quickly. "I mean—no. It's not."
I sat.
For a second, neither of us spoke. The cafeteria noise felt louder now, like we were sitting inside it instead of beside it.
"You don't usually sit here," he said.
"I know," I replied. "I just… felt like it."
He nodded, pushing his fries around. "Yeah. That makes sense."
It didn't. But somehow, it did.
We ate quietly for a bit, not uncomfortable—just… calm. I realized how rare that was. With Jason, everything felt charged. With Ben, it felt warm and steady. With Simon… it felt like breathing out after holding it in too long.
"You move a lot," he said suddenly.
I froze. "What?"
He winced slightly. "Sorry. That sounded creepy. I just—your file has stamps from, like, four different schools. I noticed during attendance."
"Oh," I said, relaxing. "Yeah. My parents move for work. A lot."
"That must be hard," he said, not pitying. Just honest.
"It is," I admitted. "I try not to get attached."
He nodded slowly. "That explains it."
"Explains what?"
"Why you pay attention," he said quietly. "But don't… stay."
I stared at him.
He immediately backtracked. "Sorry. Ignore that. I overthink."
"No," I said. "You're not wrong."
Our eyes met for a second—really met—and something shifted. Not dramatic. Not explosive.
But real.
Across the room, I felt it again.
Jason.
He was watching us.
Not angry. Not smiling. Just… focused.
I looked away.
"I should probably get back," I said softly.
"Yeah," Simon replied. "Of course."
As I stood, he added, quieter, "Hey, Laura?"
I turned.
"I'm glad you sat here."
My chest tightened. "Me too."
The rest of the day passed in a blur.
At the end of the final bell, I was packing my bag when Simon appeared beside me in the hallway.
"Hey," he said. "I know this is random, but… the library's doing a used book sale tomorrow after school."
"Oh," I said. "That's cool."
"If you wanted to go," he added quickly, "I mean—not together. Just… at the same time. Or not. Totally up to you."
I smiled, genuine this time. "I'd like that."
His smile was small. But it stayed with me all the way home.
That night, I lay on my bed again, staring at the ceiling.
Jason's confidence.
Ben's warmth.
Simon's quiet depth.
Three points.
One center.
And for the first time, I realized something that scared me more than choosing—
I wasn't sure I wanted to.