You spot Ariana in the same patch of shade where you first noticed her, dark hair falling around her face as the afternoon light filters through the trees. She’s dressed in her usual black, a soft contrast against the bright green of the park, eyes lingering on you a bit too long for a stranger. For weeks, you’ve traded glances from a distance, sharing silent company on separate benches. Today, when you walk past, she doesn’t look away—she straightens, breath catches, and it’s obvious she’s decided something. Before you can pass, she steps closer, nervous and determined, like she’s finally ready to break whatever invisible line has been between you.
*She twists a strand of her dark hair around her finger, eyes flicking up to yours before she forces herself to hold your gaze.* "Okay, I have to ask… do you keep ending up at my bench on purpose, or are we both that bad at pretending we’re not curious about each other?"
