Title: A Beat, A Glance, A Bloom

In the hallowed halls of Lagonoy High School, nestled in the vibrant heart of Camarines Sur, there was a girl who danced.

Not just onstage, not only during festivals or school programs—she danced whenever the music called her name. Whether it was during lunch breaks, on the walk home with earbuds in her ears, or in the gym during club practices, her body moved with instinctive grace.

Her name was Kiara Ramos.

A first-year student from the star section, Kiara was bright—but not the brightest. She was average in academics by star section standards, which still meant she was in the top ten percent of the school. But where she truly shined was the dance floor. She was the kind of performer who made crowds hush, who turned PE teachers and festival judges into fans, and who carried herself with that glowing confidence only dancers had.

Her friends—Levi, Ella, Calista, Mara, and Rina—were all involved in the whirlwind of teen romance that seemed to engulf the school this year. She would tease them playfully and grin whenever she caught sight of Levi sneaking glances at Rina, or when Isaac left a folded poem in Ella's notebook.

Her chismis senses tingled every time. And she loved it.

Still, amid the teasing and dancing, she never really imagined herself as someone caught up in the same whirlwind.

Until one afternoon changed that.

It was during a regular Tuesday dance practice. The club had just finished a difficult choreography, and the coach was giving tips while the rest of the members caught their breath.

Kiara wiped the sweat off her forehead and took a deep breath, facing the mirror. As she turned slightly, she felt something—someone's eyes.

She glanced toward the door. A boy.

Just standing there.

Looking right at her.

But just as quickly as she blinked, he was gone.

She shook her head, unsure whether it was imagination or not. But the next day, after another intense practice, something odd happened.

Resting by the side of the gym, where bags and bottles were usually kept, she noticed a neatly folded towel and a bottle of cold Gatorade.

On the towel, a small note:

"Nice form as always. Keep dancing. - J.C.D."

Her heart skipped a beat. She looked around, half-expecting to catch someone hiding. But there was no one.

She asked around, but none of the girls in the club knew anything. No one had seen a boy nearby.

The next week, it happened again. Then again.

Always the same note.

"Keep going. That turn was sharp. - J.C.D."

"Don't doubt your moves. You're captivating. - J.C.D."

By now, her curiosity was almost unbearable. Who was J.C.D.?

She had a small list in her mind. It must be someone from the school. Probably a guy. Maybe from her batch. Probably a sports player? Or someone from a club near the gym?

Then came the idea.

"Levi," she said one day as they shared lunch under the narra tree, "do you know anyone with the initials J.C.D.?"

Levi blinked. "Huh? What for?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Just answer."

"Hmm. There's... Jericho Cesar Dela Cruz. Second-year. Tennis varsity. But nah, that guy's into someone else. Oh! Wait—Jason Cielo Domingo. He's a first-year. Quiet guy. Sits near the back of the room. He's in our section."

Her brain clicked.

Jason.

She remembered him. Average height. Always quiet. Wore his ID properly. Sat three chairs behind her. He rarely spoke unless called on, and even then, he answered so softly the teacher had to repeat him.

But something about him felt... steady.

That Friday, Kiara decided to stay a little after practice and keep watch.

Sure enough, just as everyone else left, someone approached the gym side quietly. He carried a towel, a drink, and what looked like a folded note.

Kiara stepped out.

He froze.

"Jason," she said.

He looked like he might bolt.

"You're J.C.D.?"

He nodded slowly, eyes unsure, caught in the moment.

Kiara took a step closer. "Why?"

Jason bit his lip, then looked down. "Because I like watching you dance. You look... free. Like nothing else matters. And I just... I thought if I left something, even something small, maybe I could help. Even if you never knew it was me."

She tilted her head, heart hammering.

"You've been doing this for months."

He nodded again, cheeks pink.

"I thought it was a crush. At first," he said quietly. "But... I think it's more now."

Kiara stared. She wasn't sure what she expected. Maybe something silly. Maybe a joke. But not this kind of honest bravery.

Jason continued, "You don't have to say anything back. I just wanted you to know."

She chuckled lightly, shaking her head. "You really are quiet, huh?"

"Too quiet," he mumbled.

She stepped forward again. "Thank you. For the towels. For the drinks. For the notes. They always made my day better."

He blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah. And guess what?"

"What?"

"I kind of liked you too. Not a lot. Just a little. Like a small crush."

He looked up, surprised.

"But now," she added, giving him a little smile, "I think it's more now, too."

In the days that followed, the dance practices felt lighter. Not because they were easier, but because Kiara danced with a new kind of energy. A knowing smile lingered on her lips.

Jason started sitting closer during class. He still didn't talk much, but when he did, it was for her.

Kiara didn't mind that he wasn't the loudest. She had enough spark for two. She talked about her friends, teased Levi about Rina, gushed over Isaac and Ella, and gave live commentary of all the love stories unfolding around them.

Jason just smiled.

When she danced during school programs, he watched from the side. Always the same look in his eyes—the one she caught that very first day.

The look that said: "You matter. I see you."

And now, she saw him too.

Together, they became part of the story. Another couple in the blooming world of Lagonoy High School, where poems were passed like secrets, where rackets and shuttlecocks carried meaning, and where glances across the court held entire conversations.

Their story wasn't loud.

It wasn't dramatic.

But it was steady.

Like a heartbeat.

Like the rhythm of a dance.

Like a note left beside a cold drink that simply said:

"You're amazing. Keep going."