Chapter 7 Something Like Almost
I told myself I wouldn't read into it.
It was just a flower.
A doodle.
Not a confession.
Not a signal.
Just… ink.
But then why did it feel like something?
Why did it feel like almost?
He didn't look at me in class.
Not once.
But his hand brushed mine when we passed the assignment sheet back and forth.
Barely.
Accidentally.
And my brain went full static.
Talia says I'm spiraling.
Maybe I am.
Maybe I've always had a thing for puzzles. For people with frayed edges.
For trying to solve what doesn't want to be solved.
But August isn't a puzzle.
He's a locked drawer.
And I can't stop reaching for the key, even when it cuts.
We got paired again today.
Some group exercise.
Professor said, "Find a partner who brings balance."
I almost laughed.
Balance?
August is gravity.
He pulls everything inward.
And still… I chose him.
We didn't speak much.
Just little things—
"You okay with this part?"
"You missed a number."
"It's fine, I fixed it."
His voice isn't cold. It's low, like he doesn't want to disturb anything.
And when he reads, his eyes move like he's afraid to miss a single word.
It's the kind of silence you want to fall asleep in.
At one point, I dropped my pen.
He bent to pick it up before I could.
Our hands touched.
For half a second,
we both froze.
And I swear,
something passed between us.
Not a spark.
Not heat.
Just recognition.
I caught him looking at me when he thought I wasn't watching.
And for a moment, I imagined a different version of us.
A version where he talks too much.
Where I don't overthink.
Where we sit on rooftops at night and listen to music and say all the things we're too scared to now.
But we're not that version.
We're something else.
Something like almost.