The silence between us didn't end when the class did.
It followed.
Out the door.
Down the corridor.
All the way to the gate.
We walked side by side—
But it didn't feel the same anymore.
"You're still mad,"he said finally.
"I'm not mad."
"You're something."
I let out a breath.
"Why does it matter?"
That made him stop walking.
I took two more steps before realizing—
then turned back.
He was looking at me.
Not casually.
Not lightly.
Seriously.
"It matters because it's you,"he said.
My chest tightened slightly.
"That doesn't answer anything."
"It does," he replied. "You're just not letting it."
I shook my head.
"You don't even know what's wrong."
"Then tell me."
I hesitated.
This was it.
Say it.
Ask him.
But instead—
"Forget it."
I turned to walk away.
He caught my wrist.
Not harsh.
But firm.
"Ivy," he said.
I froze.
"Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Walk away like it's nothing."
I looked down at his hand on my wrist.
Then back at him.
"It's easier," I said quietly.
"For who?" he asked.
"For me."
That made something shift in his expression.
Softer.
But also—
more intense.
"I don't want easy," he said.
I frowned slightly.
"Then what do you want?"
"You,"he said.
Simple.
Too simple.
That again.
That same way of saying things—
like they solved everything.
"You keep saying that,"I said.
"Because it's true."
"How do I know that?"
He stepped closer.
"You don't."
That answer surprised me.
"But you can choose to trust it,"he added.
Silence.
That word—
trust.
It sat heavily.
"Ivy," he said more softly this time, "look at me."
I did.
And that was my mistake.
Because the moment I did—
Everything felt less clear.
"You think I'd waste my time like this?" he asked.
I didn't answer.
"You think I'd show up every day, talk to you like this, stay like this—for no reason?"
My thoughts started slipping.
Because when he said it like that—
It sounded real.
"You don't know what I think," I said.
"Then tell me."
I swallowed.
"Someone told me…"I started.
He didn't interrupt.
"...that I'm not the first."
There it was.
Out.
The silence after felt heavier than anything before.
His jaw tightened slightly.
"She said that?"
I nodded.
"And you believed her?"he asked.
"I didn't say that."
"But you're acting as you did."
"I don't know what to believe,"I said, my voice quieter now.
That was the truth.
For a second—
He didn't say anything.
Then he stepped closer.
"Look at me,"he said again.
I hesitated.
Then did.
"I'm here, aren't I?" he said.
"That doesn't mean anything."
"It does," he said firmly.
"No, it doesn't," I replied. "You can be here and still not mean it."
That hit something.
I saw it.
A flicker.
Then—
He exhaled.
"You really think I'm like that?"he asked.
"I don't know what you are."
That was honest.
Too honest.
Another pause.
Then—
His hand moved again.
This time—
not my wrist.
My hand.
He held it.
Gentler.
"I'm not playing with you," he said quietly.
I didn't pull away.
But I didn't hold back either.
I just…
stood there.
"You think I'd do all this just for fun?"he added.
"I don't know," I whispered.
He shook his head slightly.
"That's crazy."
"Is it?"
"Yes."
His thumb brushed lightly over my fingers.
Slow.
Careful.
"Ivy… I like you,"he said again.
That word again.
Like.
Simple.
But it didn't feel simple anymore.
"I need more than that," I said.
He looked at me.
"What does that even mean?"
"It means I don't want to feel stupid later."
"You won't."
"You don't know that."
"I do," he said again.
That certainty—
It should've bothered me.
But instead—
It pulled me in.
"Why are you so sure?" I asked.
"Because I know what I feel."
Silence.
"And what is that?" I asked quietly.
He didn't answer immediately.
Just looked at me.
Then—
"This," he said.
And before I could react—
He pulled me closer.
Not fast.
Not rough.
Just enough.
And kissed me.
Not soft this time.
Not hesitant.
Certain.
Like he meant every word he didn't say.
My breath caught.
My hand tightened slightly in his.
And for a moment—
Everything else disappeared.
The doubt.
The questions.
Her voice.
All of it.
Gone.
When he pulled back, he didn't go far.
"Still think I'm lying?" he asked quietly.
I didn't answer.
Because I didn't know.
And maybe that was the problem.
Because even after everything—
even after this—
There was still something inside me that wasn't completely convinced.
And no matter how much I wanted to ignore it—
It was still there.