Dane

In the days that followed, Jared's shoulders stayed permanently slumped, like he was being haunted by the world's clingiest ghost. Every move he made had this gloomy, guilty vibe, like his conscience was throwing the saddest pity party ever, complete with a balloon that kept deflating.

And don't even get me started on how he acted around Silvia—even when she was dressed up as Silus. It was like his guilt had hired its own DJ, spinning regret on repeat, and Jared was stuck dancing to the beat. The guy twitched constantly, like he had an itch he couldn't scratch. Watching it was exhausting, and it seemed to be driving him absolutely bonkers.

He had so many chances to talk to Silvia too. Fate was practically handing him a microphone, and saying, "Hey, buddy, now's your shot." But nah. Jared kept dodging those opportunities. He even stopped showing up at her workplace, pulling this emotional hide-and-seek game where he was always "it" and Silvia wasn't even playing.

Honestly, I felt bad for him. Sure, he looked like he could bench-press a car without breaking a sweat, but deep down, he was just a marshmallow. Imagine finding out your best bud was actually the sister of your bully—and worse, realising you'd been hurting her this whole time. That was enough to smash anyone's heart into a million little pieces.

Silvia, though? She was cool about it. Didn't go chasing him down for apologies or an explanation. She gave him all the space he needed for his "I need to sulk in my feelings" phase. She figured he'd pull himself together eventually, and in the meantime, she just kept doing her thing.

And man, she was crushing it. School, her job, the whole Silus charade—it was like watching someone juggle flaming torches on a unicycle. Somehow, she didn't drop a single thing. I half-expected her to rip off that Silus disguise and reveal a superhero cape underneath.

Still, I could tell she was hoping Jared would get his act together. Maybe grab some duct tape and patch up their friendship. They both deserved that—a clean slate with no cracks this time around.

None of this was even their fault. This whole mess? That was all Silus. The guy was basically the ringleader of this chaos circus, and the rest of us were trying not to get hit by flying debris. How one dude could wreck so many lives was beyond me.

The weekend rolled in, and there I was, standing at Silvia's doorstep for what she called a "study session." The moment she opened the door, I had to take a deep breath because my heart decided to do laps in my chest. This was bound to be...interesting.

"Where's Camila?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"She had to run an errand for her mum, so she's going to be late," Silvia replied, all calm and unbothered.

"And your dad? Is he, uh, saving the world?" I added, throwing in the most awkward smile known to mankind.

"Yes. Out there saving lives one spreadsheet at a time," she said with a little laugh that wasn't helping my situation.

I froze mid-step, panic setting up camp in my brain. "So...it's just us two here?"

"Yes, why?" she asked, raising an eyebrow like I'd just asked if water was wet.

"...No reason. Just checking."

Cue internal screaming. My heart was ready to bust out of my chest, and I was teetering on the edge of saying something so dumb I'd never recover. Heart, calm the hell down. Brain, start working. Please.

I followed her into the living room, where the afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows. For a second, I wondered if I should start a beauty channel because, let's be real, the lighting was on point. I tossed my bag near the coffee table and plopped down on the carpet.

Silvia was already heading to the kitchen. She glanced over her shoulder with a look that clearly said, "Do you want a drink or are you living life dangerously dehydrated?"

"Any soda will do," I said, aiming for nonchalant while the butterflies in my stomach were performing synchronised swimming routines. "As long as it doesn't explode in my face."

She nodded and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me alone with my thoughts. And let's just say, most of those thoughts weren't exactly PG-rated.

As I sat there twiddling my thumbs, my eyes wandered over to a family photo hanging on the wall. It was a shot of Silvia as kid, all big smiles and simpler times. Back when those grins were more real than the city council's promises to fix potholes.

I walked over to the cabinet below the photo. There was another framed picture there—a blast from the past of me, Silvia, and Silus. Oh, boy, we were rocking hairstyles that screamed, "What the hell were we thinking?" Warmth hit me as I remembered those days. The goofy, cringe-worthy moments that could've been straight out of a blooper reel but still felt like the best times of our lives.

I picked up the photo, tracing my fingers over the ridiculously happy faces staring back at me. A chuckle slipped out as I thought about how, back then, our biggest drama was who got the last cookie. Those were the days. No chaos, no confusion—just us being kids.

Setting the photo back down, I flopped onto the carpet and tried to focus on the notes scattered across the coffee table. But my brain? Yeah, it was stuck on a nostalgia trip, and I was just along for the ride.

Silvia came back from the kitchen with a can of cola in her hand. She dropped it next to my notes and plopped down beside me. The second she leaned in to check out my work, I felt like I'd shown up to a job interview wearing a bathrobe. The wave of self-consciousness hit me like a brick wall.

And then there was the smell—that subtle, floral scent she carried, wrapping around me like some kind of magical aura. My face heated up so fast, I probably looked like a shy lobster. Every breath I took was another hit of that intoxicating fragrance, and suddenly, this study session turned into a test of willpower—me versus the sheer power of eau de Silvia.

My brain, being its usual unhelpful self, decided to zero in on how close she was sitting. The thoughts? Yeah, not my proudest moments. I could practically hear my guardian angel facepalming in the background, scheduling an emergency intervention to save me from myself.

Silvia turned to me with those big, honey-coloured eyes, the kind that could make a kitten look like an amateur in the cuteness department. "Any brain farts you need help clearing?" she asked, her words completely clashing with how sweet and innocent she looked.

I stared up at the ceiling, suddenly very interested in its paint job. "U-uh, yeah, pretty much all of it. But if I had to pick, maths is my mortal enemy. Numbers and I? We've been feuding for years, and let's just say I'm not winning."

She smiled. "Let me help you with that."

She leaned in even closer, her shoulder brushing against mine. My heart? Oh, it was drumming like it had downed three energy drinks. Her being this close sent my brain into overdrive, and I was clinging to my sanity by a thread thinner than dental floss. It felt like some invisible force was pulling me towards her, and I had no idea how to fight it.

I was totally losing it.

Silvia, though? Completely clueless. Dense as a black hole, if we're being real. She stayed laser-focused on my notes, completely unaware of the chaos she was causing in my head. I stared at her, half in awe and half in disbelief. She was so kind, so eager to help, and it lit this little spark inside me—one that was dangerously close to becoming a full-on bonfire of irrational feelings.

My fingers twitched, almost reaching for a stray lock of her hair. That's when I knew—I was officially losing control. My brain had clocked out, leaving my heart in Formula 1 mode, speeding straight towards disaster. I was about two seconds away from doing something epically stupid.

And then the doorbell rang. Like a lifeline. A siren blaring, "Abort mission immediately."

Silvia jumped up to get the door, finally freeing me from her gravitational pull. The moment she was out of sight, I slapped myself in the face. Hard. What was I even thinking? What kind of disaster was I about to unleash on the world?

Camila's arrival was like someone hitting the reset button on all the awkward tension that had been building in the room. I was on the brink of self-destruction, while Silvia was just chilling in her little bubble of bliss, still oblivious to the emotional hurricane I was drowning in.

Camila strolled in with a quick "Oops, I'm late" apology, but the second she saw me, her superhuman observation skills kicked in. One look at my vibes—awkward, panicked, and clearly not okay—and she knew. She threw a glance at Silvia, who was still coasting along, clueless as ever.

"I knew it..." Camila muttered, dragging her hand down her face like she'd cracked the Da Vinci Code or something.

Ah, shit. I'd been found out. The crazy best friend had officially pieced together my not-so-subtle crush. Fantastic. This day just kept getting better.

Camila flopped onto Rod's sacred spot on the couch like she owned the place. She tossed her phone onto the coffee table, and wow—if that thing had been in a street fight, it had definitely lost.

"What happened to your phone?" Silvia asked, sounding genuinely worried.

Camila glanced at the sad excuse for a phone and shrugged like it was no big deal. "Oh, this?" She waved it off. "Jared decided it needed some fresh air and introduced it to the floor."

The second Jared's name came up, Silvia flinched like someone whispered "taxes" in the middle of vacation plans. Her face cycled through about five different emotions in two seconds before landing on this strange mix of guilt and panic.

***

A few weeks cruised by, the usual blur of school, study sessions with Silvia and Camila, and Silvia's heroic attempt to save Silus' tragic academic record. Watching her tackle it was like watching someone try to stop a sinking ship with a teaspoon—resolute, but the odds were not in her favour.

And then, boom. The dreaded annual exams for grade 11 hit us like a bad prank nobody found funny. Silvia mentally tightened her imaginary ponytail and geared up for battle, ready to face the dragon of F grades with nothing but a pencil, a prayer, and a caffeine intake that should probably come with a warning label.

For a solid week, she went to war with Silus' six subjects. Every day was a new boss fight, but she crushed it. She marched into those exams wielding the sword of determination, the shield of pure stubbornness, and a battle cry that sounded suspiciously like "more coffee!"

Man, she was amazing. I just hoped nobody noticed the hearts practically popping out of my eyes every time I looked at her. Camila definitely noticed, though. She kept shooting me these "get it together, you lovesick moron" looks that made me want to crawl under a desk.

Then came the P.E. practical. Aiden and I were in the same elective, so we ended up watching Silvia's turn. Aiden? Totally unimpressed. Honestly, I wasn't sure the guy was impressed by anything. But me? I was floored. She was fast, agile, and just...awesome. Sure, she wasn't outshining the guys, but who cared? She was running circles around my heart, and that's all that mattered.

Oh god. I'd officially become her loyal sidekick. Ready to fetch her coffee, slay dragons, or do literally anything she even hinted at needing. Somebody needed to stage an intervention before I started barking.

I snuck into Silvia's art class during their final project wrap-up, curious as hell, only to find her piece sitting there, untouched since her first encounter with it. When I asked about it, she shrugged and said finishing it didn't feel right—like adding her own touch would be about as subtle as a bull in a china shop.

I already knew Silus was annoyingly good at drawing—it's like the one thing he's actually better at than being a professional pain in the ass. Of course, being Silus, he kept it all low-key, like he was scared someone might actually compliment him or something. Not that his pencil skills made up for the fact that he still had a black belt in jerk-fu.

The weird thing? That unfinished drawing kind of felt like a metaphor for Silus himself—halfway there, sketched out but never fully realised. Deep, right? Yeah, I surprised myself sometimes. Maybe hanging around Silvia was making me think more...or maybe I was just losing it.

When exam week finally dragged its sorry butt to the finish line, the entire student body let out this massive sigh of relief. People were already plotting their escapes from school like we were inmates planning the great prison break. Summer was so close I could practically taste the sunscreen.

Just when we thought we were free, the teachers hit us with the ultimate buzzkill—exams results were still looming. Talk about a mood killer. It felt like standing in front of a firing squad, except instead of bullets, they had red pens and grade sheets. Academic Armageddon was coming for us, and none of us were safe.

So, there we were, sweating it out, sending silent prayers to the gods of exams for mercy. Please, anything but a "see me after class" grade. My fragile ego couldn't handle that kind of hit.