Lynn had barely sat down when Dianne slid into the seat beside her, eyes wide and lips already mid-sentence.
"Okay, who was that tall, dark mystery walking with you this morning?"
Lynn sighed. "You mean Alex?"
"Yes, Alex," Dianne said, dragging out the name like it was dipped in syrup. "You walked in like a couple in a teen drama. You know this school lives for that kind of stuff."
On the other side of the table, Gallagher snorted. "He's probably just some brooding transfer kid with a playlist full of sad indie songs and too much cologne."
"He smelled like pine," Lynn muttered.
Fanshia leaned forward with raised brows. "So you were paying attention."
Lynn tried to play it cool, spearing a piece of fruit with her fork. "He's just... interesting. That's all."
"That's not just anything," Dianne said, stealing a fry off Lynn's tray. "You like him."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to." Fanshia smiled. "Your face screams 'I dream about his hoodie.'"
Lynn rolled her eyes, but her cheeks warmed all the same.
Across the cafeteria, Alex sat with three guys she didn't recognize. One of them—tall, broad-shouldered, with a varsity jacket slung over his chair—was laughing loudly and throwing chips at the others.
"Looks like he found his tribe," Gallagher said, noticing the group. "The loud one's Peter. Baseball. Ego the size of a stadium."
"The curly-haired one with the leather bracelet is Sam," Dianne chimed in. "He's new too. Transferred last semester. He's quiet. Sketchbook kid."
"And the one with the rings and the death-glare? Harden," Fanshia added. "Total mystery. Rumor is he got suspended for a week at his old school. No one knows why."
Lynn watched as Alex leaned back in his chair, smiling faintly at something Peter said. He looked different with them—lighter, more relaxed. But still... distant, like he was never quite fully there.
"Interesting crowd," she said.
"Dangerously interesting," Fanshia corrected.
Gallagher rested his chin on his hand, staring dramatically at Lynn. "So. You like the new boy with the ghost eyes. What's the plan? Bold move? Subtle seduction? Strategic seating chart sabotage?"
Lynn smirked. "You'll see."
Dianne leaned in. "Tell us you're at least texting."
"Not yet."
"Girl," Dianne groaned. "You are sitting on a gold mine of tension. You have to make a move."
"I already did," Lynn said coolly, picking up her drink. "I just haven't finished yet."
Across the room, Alex glanced her way. For a second, it was just the two of them again—like the world pressed pause.
And then he nodded, barely perceptible.
Acknowledging her.
Daring her.
Fanshia exhaled beside her. "Okay, that was hot."
"I need popcorn," Dianne whispered.
Gallagher grinned. "And a front-row seat."
But Lynn wasn't smiling anymore.
Because that moment—it wasn't just a glance.
It was a promise.
And tomorrow morning?
She planned to cash it in.