The classroom emptied slowly, chairs scraping, footsteps fading, laughter echoing down the hallway. I stayed behind, pretending to rearrange my notes while my heart beat too loud in my chest. She was still there—Leyla.
She stood by the window, half-lit by the afternoon sun, her fingers absentmindedly trailing across her notebook. I watched her from behind the safe cover of my hand, my breath catching every time she moved. God, I’d been drawn to her since the first week of class—something about the way she listened so intently, how she always had the right words without showing off. She didn’t have to try. She just… was.
“You’re not in a hurry either, huh?” she said suddenly, her voice cutting through the silence. Calm. Teasing.
I looked up, startled. “Guess not.”
She turned toward me, eyes sharp and unreadable. “You always stay late.”
I gave a half-smile. “You noticed?”
“I always notice you.”
Her words hit me like a pulse through my spine. I sat there, unsure what to say. I’d imagined talking to her like this, but now that it was happening, everything I’d rehearsed fell away.
She crossed the room slowly, her steps unhurried. My breath shortened with each one. I could smell the faint scent of something floral on her skin. She stopped in front of me, so close I could see the soft flush rising in her cheeks.
“You want to kiss me, don’t you?” she asked.
I didn’t answer right away. My body answered for me—the way my hand twitched, the way I tilted my head just slightly in her direction.
“Yes,” I said. Barely a whisper.
“Then stop waiting.”
My hand moved on instinct, rising to her cheek. Her skin was warm beneath my fingers. She didn’t flinch. Her eyes locked on mine, steady, open.
And then I kissed her.
Slowly at first, as if I wasn’t sure if it was real. Her lips were soft, patient—like she’d been waiting too. The kiss deepened, and I felt her hand slide behind my neck, pulling me closer, anchoring me to that moment. I forgot where we were, forgot who I was supposed to be. There was only heat, only the soft sound of our breaths and the thud of my pulse.
Time dissolved.
We broke apart only when we had to—when air mattered again.
She looked at me, eyes shining a little. “Took you long enough,” she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from my forehead.
I smiled, still catching my breath. “Was worth the wait.”
She stood by the window, half-lit by the afternoon sun, her fingers absentmindedly trailing across her notebook. I watched her from behind the safe cover of my hand, my breath catching every time she moved. God, I’d been drawn to her since the first week of class—something about the way she listened so intently, how she always had the right words without showing off. She didn’t have to try. She just… was.
“You’re not in a hurry either, huh?” she said suddenly, her voice cutting through the silence. Calm. Teasing.
I looked up, startled. “Guess not.”
She turned toward me, eyes sharp and unreadable. “You always stay late.”
I gave a half-smile. “You noticed?”
“I always notice you.”
Her words hit me like a pulse through my spine. I sat there, unsure what to say. I’d imagined talking to her like this, but now that it was happening, everything I’d rehearsed fell away.
She crossed the room slowly, her steps unhurried. My breath shortened with each one. I could smell the faint scent of something floral on her skin. She stopped in front of me, so close I could see the soft flush rising in her cheeks.
“You want to kiss me, don’t you?” she asked.
I didn’t answer right away. My body answered for me—the way my hand twitched, the way I tilted my head just slightly in her direction.
“Yes,” I said. Barely a whisper.
“Then stop waiting.”
My hand moved on instinct, rising to her cheek. Her skin was warm beneath my fingers. She didn’t flinch. Her eyes locked on mine, steady, open.
And then I kissed her.
Slowly at first, as if I wasn’t sure if it was real. Her lips were soft, patient—like she’d been waiting too. The kiss deepened, and I felt her hand slide behind my neck, pulling me closer, anchoring me to that moment. I forgot where we were, forgot who I was supposed to be. There was only heat, only the soft sound of our breaths and the thud of my pulse.
Time dissolved.
We broke apart only when we had to—when air mattered again.
She looked at me, eyes shining a little. “Took you long enough,” she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from my forehead.
I smiled, still catching my breath. “Was worth the wait.”