Chapter 3 He Laughed !

Somewhere in the universe, the cosmic forces decided that today was another day for Lia Rivera to be publicly humbled in front of Ethan Park.

It was tradition at this point.

"Walk slow, look casual, and do not fall over anything," I muttered to myself as I closed my locker, backpack hanging off one shoulder like I was starring in a coming-of-age movie no one asked for.

Ethan was walking down the hall. Alone. Backpack slung perfectly, like it had been styled. His sneakers looked like they'd just stepped out of a commercial. His hair looked like it was being kissed by a breeze that only existed for him.

And there I was, standing in the middle of the hallway with a pencil behind my ear and a granola bar sticking out of my mouth like a confused squirrel.

I spun around to escape-right into the custodial cart.

It clattered, buckets sloshed, and a mop somehow slapped my leg like it had beef with me personally.

I froze.

Ethan stopped walking.

We locked eyes.

He looked at the mop.

Then at me.

Then-he laughed.

Again.

It wasn't a mean laugh. It was the kind where his shoulders shook and he tried not to smile too big, but couldn't help it. His laugh was soft but bright, like sunlight on water.

I just... stood there. Like a traffic cone. Covered in janitorial shame.

A beat passed.

"You okay?" he asked, walking over like this wasn't the third time he'd had to witness my social collapse.

"Yep," I said too loudly. "Just checking if the mop was emotionally available."

He blinked.

Laughed again.

And then-"You're funny, you know that?"

I forgot how to breathe.

He kept walking, a soft smile still on his face.

I stood frozen, legs glued to the floor, dignity in shambles.

"Oh my God," I whispered to myself. "He laughed. Again. That's twice. That's a pattern."

"YOU'RE DOING IT AGAIN," Maya yelled from down the hall.

"Doing what?!"

"LOOKING LIKE YOU FELL IN LOVE WITH THE FLOOR!"

I might've.

ETHAN'S POINT OF VIEW

People think being "the popular guy" means you're confident, smooth, and living some dream.

What it actually means is everyone watches everything you do, expects you to be perfect all the time, and thinks you have your entire life together.

I don't.

My name's Ethan Park. Seventeen. Junior. Half my brain is filled with physics equations and the other half with existential dread. My parents are Korean immigrants. Strict, proud, and very into the idea of me becoming a doctor, lawyer, or NASA engineer. My mom makes kimchi like it's a sport. My dad thinks emotions are a distraction.

We're a loving family... in the "did you eat?" way, not the "let's talk about feelings" way.

Every Saturday morning is spent cleaning the house while BTS plays in the background. Every Sunday afternoon is for Korean school, where my grandma reminds me I hold chopsticks wrong. I love them, but sometimes I feel like I'm constantly balancing two worlds and expected to be flawless in both.

So yeah, school's a break. Sort of.

I hang with Lucas (part-time chaos goblin), Olivia (still friends despite our failed dating experiment), and Jenny (class president, planner of everything, also mildly terrifying).

And lately? I've been noticing someone else.

Lia Rivera.

I knew who she was, obviously. Everyone knew Lia. Not because she was popular, but because she was impossible to ignore in the best way. She walked like her thoughts were louder than the hallway, like her daydreams were too big to fit inside her head.

She wore these statement t-shirts with sayings like "Socially Anxious But Still Cute" or "Emotionally Unavailable to All Men Except Henry Golding."

The first time she ran into me was freshman year. She hit me with a band instrument. A trumpet, I think.

She screamed, I apologized, and we both fled in opposite directions.

Since then, she's run into me... several more times. Last week, she tripped and tried to use a potted plant as a support beam. It didn't go well.

But I kept thinking about her.

She was loud and awkward and honest. When she talked, her hands moved like they were trying to catch up to her brain. And when she smiled, it looked like her whole face got in on the joke.

So yeah, I noticed her.

Then came The Spaghetti Incident.

She walked toward my table like she was approaching death itself. I could see it on her face: determination, terror, chaos.

And then-boom.

Red sauce. Noodles. A whole tray of tragedy.

Lucas was howling. Olivia was speechless. I was... weirdly impressed.

Because Lia stood there covered in marinara like she was owning it. Like she'd meant to do it, just to make a point.

And when she muttered something about being passionate about pasta?

I lost it.

I laughed harder than I had in weeks.

The best part? She didn't even try to cover it up. She just shrugged like, "Yeah, this is me. What now?"

I respected that.

Later, I got her number from Jenny, who had it from planning some student council thing. (Don't ask how. Jenny knows everything.)

I texted her.

And when she replied? I smiled.

A lot.

Which brings me to today. The Mop Catastrophe.

Lia versus the janitor cart. The chaos duel of the century.

And me?

I couldn't stop laughing.

I should've helped her. I should've offered to walk her to class. But instead, I just stood there, stunned that one person could be so effortlessly themselves.

I think she's trying to get over me. I think she's doing it on purpose. Maya's been acting suspicious. And Lucas keeps saying stuff like, "Your weird little fan is spiraling."

But if this is her "getting over" me...

It's not working.

It's just making me like her more.

Back to Lia

I hid in the bathroom until lunch.

"I'm a joke," I told Maya. "I am a meme with legs."

"You're his meme with legs," she said. "That boy is obsessed with your nonsense."

"He laughed at me again."

"Exactly. He's either into you or he has a kink for disaster."

"Do I want him to like me?" I whispered. "This is getting too real."

Maya paused. "Do you want to like him?"

"I wanted to stop liking him. That was the plan!"

"But now?"

Now I didn't know.

Because Ethan wasn't just the crush anymore.

He was the boy who texted me jokes at midnight.

Who remembered the exact place I tripped last week.

Who laughed like he meant it.

The worst part?

He wasn't making fun of me.

He was noticing me.

Really noticing me.

And my heart? Yeah, it wasn't uncrushing. It was panicking.