The Reader

He sat in class, eyes glued to his screen, rereading the chapter she'd posted.

His breathing hitched.

Across the room, she was there, seated in her usual spot at the back, her fingers flying over her phone as if she didn't have a care in the world.

Because that's what one-night stands do.

The words rang in his head like a taunt.

He dragged a hand through his hair, the weight of it all pressing against his chest. Did she even know?

Did she know they attended the same university?

That they were both final-year students, sharing the same classes, walking the same halls?

Did she know that every club he joined, every seminar he attended, every extra moment he carved out of his life, was for her?

She was his muse, his obsession, his writer, his author. The woman who had, with a few casual words, upended his entire existence.

A one-night stand? His fucking ass.

He sighed, his eyes flicking back to her. She didn't even glance his way. Of course, she wouldn't. She never did.

That was her nature, wasn't it? Quiet. Reserved. Too shy to draw attention to herself, too unsure to know the effect she had.

That was why she always sat at the back of the class, her small bubble of space like an impenetrable fortress.

It was the perfect vantage point for him to admire her.

To her, he was just the reader. An anonymous fan who lived in her novel's comment section, someone she wouldn't think twice about.

But in his world?

In his world, she was everything.

His writer. His storyteller. His woman.

He wanted her to see him, to notice him. Not just as a name on a screen but as the man sitting a few rows away, craving her in a way that words could never quite capture.

But how could he bridge the chasm between them when she barely seemed to realize he existed?

"Hey, wanna hit the amusement park?" His friend's voice jolted him from his thoughts.

He barely registered the question because she was standing now, gathering her things and leaving the classroom.

He watched her go, his heart twisting with every step she took.

"Sure," he muttered, his gaze lingering on the doorway she'd just walked through.

But even as he agreed, his thoughts were still on her.

If only you'd notice me. If only you'd see that I'm right here. Wanting so much more.