Chapter 4 This Isn't Working

I was halfway through a chocolate chip granola bar and a full-blown emotional breakdown when Maya slapped my desk with her planner.

"We're escalating."

I blinked. "What?"

"This. The plan. It's not working."

"No kidding." I pointed to myself. "Do I look emotionally detached?"

"Honestly? You look like a rom-com side character who just realized she's the actual lead."

I groaned and dropped my head on the desk. "I think I like him more now. He keeps... noticing me."

"Yeah, it's wild," Maya said, flipping open her glittery planner like she was organizing a military operation. "He talks to you. He smiles at you. He texted you. You're in danger, Rivera."

"I know!"

"Which is why we need Phase Two."

"I thought we were on Phase Two."

"Phase One was spaghetti. Phase Two was mop slap. Phase Three is imminent."

I lifted my head. "I don't want to humiliate myself anymore."

"You said that last time and then you practically invented a new method of mop combat."

"Maybe I should just accept it. The crush. Let it destroy me. It'll pass eventually, right?"

"No, sweetie. You're too dramatic for that. You'll write poetry about him and cry into your hoodie sleeves."

"I already did that."

"Exactly. So we fight fire with fire."

"...By doing what, setting myself on fire?!"

She grinned.

I did not like that grin.

Later That Day – Fourth Period: English Class

"Shakespeare didn't write Romeo and Juliet to be romantic," Mr. Lawson said, pacing the front of the classroom like a man who lived for correcting teen delusions. "He wrote it as a cautionary tale. They were fourteen. They knew each other for, what, three days?"

He spun dramatically. "Three days and boom! Dead. Because of hormones."

Maya leaned over and whispered, "You think Ethan would die for you in three days?"

"Don't tempt me to fake my death," I hissed.

Ethan was sitting two rows ahead, taking neat notes like the overachiever he was. His handwriting looked like it belonged on the cover of a calligraphy magazine. I couldn't stop staring at the way he tapped his pen against his notebook.

"Ms. Rivera," Mr. Lawson called suddenly. "Since you're clearly so focused, what lesson can we learn from Romeo and Juliet's doomed romance?"

I panicked.

"Um... don't trust boys with great hair and dramatic entrances?"

The class snorted.

Ethan turned around and smiled.

I was never going to emotionally recover from this.

After Class

"I'm deleting my entire existence," I said, shoving my books into my bag.

"I'm uploading it to the cloud," Maya replied. "We need to preserve these moments for future cringe."

"You're evil."

"I'm efficient."

I was about to head to the cafeteria to hide in my usual spot-the bench behind the vending machines-when it happened.

"Hey, Lia!"

I turned. Ethan was standing behind me, smiling casually like he didn't just shatter my entire emotional infrastructure.

"Y-Yeah?"

"You heading to lunch?"

"Oh... no, I was actually gonna, um, sit outside... with the vending machines. You know. For the ambiance."

He laughed. "You wanna sit with us?"

Us.

As in him and his entire friend group of popular, intimidating, magazine-ready teenagers.

I stared at him.

"Uh..."

"Just thought I'd ask," he said. "No pressure."

He smiled again-that smile, soft and tilted, like he was always halfway into a joke.

I nodded too fast. "Sure! Yeah. Okay. Cool. Totally chill. Love social interaction."

"Awesome." He waited for me to fall in step beside him. I did. Stiffly. Like a malfunctioning robot.

"I swear I'm not always like this," I blurted.

"Like what?"

"Nervous. Weird. Full of gluten-based trauma."

He laughed again. "You're funny, Lia."

Funny. Not cute. Not charming. Just funny.

Great.

Cafeteria Table of Doom

Lucas smirked when we approached. "Look who finally made a move."

Olivia raised a brow. "Is this a new member of our group or is she performing a social experiment?"

Jenny didn't look up from her planner. "As long as she doesn't spill pasta again, she can sit."

I slid into the seat beside Ethan, clutching my tray like it was a flotation device.

"So," he said casually, "you like Shakespeare?"

"I think he's a little overhyped," I replied. "Like, 'Oh wow, tragedy, big surprise, everyone dies.' Congrats, Bill."

He laughed again. My heart somersaulted.

Maya was across the cafeteria, watching with binocular-level intensity.

I mouthed: Help me.

She mouthed back: Nope.

I was on my own.

Ten Minutes Later

I had managed to:Choke on a carrot.

Spill a little water on Lucas's hoodie.

Accidentally reference a meme no one else knew.

Say "flirty murder energy" when describing Macbeth.

But Ethan?

He just kept smiling.

Like I was a show he couldn't stop watching.

After Lunch

I stomped into the bathroom where Maya was waiting like a war general debriefing a soldier.

"I FAILED."

"You got invited to sit with him."

"I choked on a carrot!"

"You spoke words to him."

"I said 'flirty murder energy!'"

"That's... kind of hot, actually."

I groaned. "The plan is failing. It's so failing. This is worse than having a crush. Now he thinks he likes me."

"Wait... you think he does?"

"I don't know! He keeps laughing. He invited me to lunch. He called me funny. That's, like, one step from intriguing."

Maya grinned. "You know what this means?"

I glared. "Don't you dare say Phase Four."

"PHASE. FOUR."

Back in Class

I sat through math unable to focus on anything except how Ethan's laugh made my stomach feel like it was doing gymnastics.

The bell rang, and I zombied my way to the hallway.

Ethan passed me again.

He gave me a slight nod. "See you tomorrow, Lia."

He remembered my name.

My brain shut down.

I walked into the wrong classroom.

Later That Night

Text from Maya:

Maya: Operation: Uncrush has officially become Operation: Crush 2.0. We need new strategies.

Me: Like what? Hypnosis?

Maya: Or you can just talk to him like a person?

Me: That sounds... responsible.

Maya: Or we can fake your death.

Me: Much better.

The plan wasn't working.

I wasn't over him.

If anything, I was falling deeper.

And the worst part?

I wanted to.

Just a little.

Just enough to feel something that wasn't total chaos.