Pearl didn't mean to notice him again, but she did.
The quiet boy from the library door, clutching his sketchbook, sitting at the last window seat during lunch, headphones on, head tilted as he watched the sky instead of the people around him. It wasn't that he looked lonely; he looked content in a way that made her curious.
That day, she was walking through the corridor, balancing a water bottle and her chemistry notes while chatting with May, when a pencil rolled across the floor and stopped at her foot. She bent down, picking it up, only to find him standing there, looking at her with wide, startled eyes.
Their eyes met—sharp, electric, a spark that made her heart skip, even if she didn't understand why.
"Is this yours?" she asked, holding the pencil out with a small smile.
He hesitated before nodding, stepping forward, brushing his fingers against hers as he took it. It was a tiny moment, a tiny touch, but it felt like a secret passed between them, something neither of them knew how to name.
"Thanks," he mumbled, his voice soft, almost lost under the chatter around them.
"Sharon, right?" she asked, the name falling naturally, warmly, the way no one else said it.
He blinked, looking up at her with a mix of confusion and something softer, the way his name sounded on her lips sinking into him before he could stop it.
"Yeah," he managed, and for a second, Pearl thought she saw a small, shy smile tug at the corner of his lips.
She grinned, "I'm Pearl," before May called her from down the hall, pulling her back into the noise.
As she walked away, Pearl glanced over her shoulder, catching Sharon still standing there, pencil in hand, looking at her like she was something he'd just discovered. And for the rest of the day, he found himself turning the pencil over in his hand, feeling the warmth of her touch still lingering, wondering why that tiny hello felt bigger than anything he'd ever drawn.