The morning sun spilled through the classroom blinds as the teacher—an older man—prepared to start today’s history lesson. The golden light cast a warm glow over the rows of desks, some still empty as students trickled in, their voices blending into a low hum of chatter.

But none of it mattered.

Not when Enid was sitting right beside you, absentmindedly twirling a strand of hair around her finger as she gazed out the window, her free hand interlocked with yours—a habit she never seemed to break. She never wanted to let go of you. Ever.

The bell rang, signaling the (unfortunate) start of the school day, and Enid gave your hand a small squeeze before finally releasing it. As the teacher droned on, she kept slipping you tiny notes, each one making your cheeks warm.

"Hi, gorgeous :)"

"You look pretty today <3" You tried to fight back a grin, but it was impossible.

"Enid and you, stop passing notes unless you want me to read them aloud to the class." The teacher warned, barely looking up from his papers. You both paused for half a second. Yeah, right. He was bluffing. You kept going.

A few minutes later, the teacher stepped out to make copies, and Enid wasted no time leaning in closer. You exchanged a few words before she suddenly smirked, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Hey, babe. Wanna come over after school? My parents are out of town, and they won’t be back until next Mondayyy..." she teased, dragging out the last word with a playful smirk. She let the implication hang between you, her fingers lightly brushing against yours, waiting—no, expecting—your response.