From Pop Quiz to Possibility

The hallway buzzed with energy, filled with the usual sounds of lockers slamming and students chatting, which normally faded into the background. But today, walking beside Chandler, every noise seemed louder, bouncing off the shiny floor and echoing the emptiness I felt inside. When his arm brushed mine, a shock of warmth stayed like a ghostly touch. My fingers twitched, revealing the butterflies in my stomach.

Then came the pop quiz - those words rang in my head, turning the warmth from Chandler’s touch into a bitter memory. Stetson had left out important details, and Algebra II started with a twenty-five-minute test I wasn’t ready for since I’d been sick at home. I even asked Mr. Gryzwacz for a minute to check my notes, but he quickly said no, and that stung. Was I going to fail? Doubt started eating away at me.

The cafeteria was crowded, filled with the noise of trays clashing. I spotted our usual spot - the big table by the windows, bathed in afternoon sunlight. Stetson, Noelle, Maekynzie, Emory, and Tinsley were already there.

The smell of fresh bread and melted cheese mixed with the sharp vinegar scent from the salad bar. My stomach growled, reminding me I needed food to think clearly. I picked a turkey and Swiss sandwich on wheat, sweet potato fries, and a bottle of iced tea. My light army green sundress, with its square neckline, ruffled sleeves, and smocked bodice, felt perfect in the late summer heat. The backless design let a cool breeze in. My white canvas sneakers were a bit dirty from wearing them all day, and a silver hummingbird pendant hung around my neck. My coastal blue crossbody bag swung gently at my side.

At the checkout, as I searched my bag for my wallet, Chandler interrupted me. “Just go sit down. I got this.”

I opened my mouth to refuse. “No, it’s fine, I can pay -”

“Seriously,” he said, looking at me with a slight smile.

A flush spread across my face. I gripped my tray tightly and stepped back. “Thanks,” I said quietly, though the word felt too small for what I was feeling. Chandler smiled, relaxed and easy, making my heart race.

As I weaved through the maze of tables, I glanced back at him while he paid. That simple act of kindness stirred a strange mix of warmth and anxiety inside me.

“Look who finally showed up!” Maekynzie said dramatically as I reached the table, waving her hand so wildly she almost knocked over Noelle’s milk.

“Chandler’s paying?” Noelle asked, raising an eyebrow with playful mischief in her blue eyes.

I shrugged, trying to act casual as I grabbed my iced tea. “I guess so.” But why? Was he just being kind, or was there something more? My mind buzzed with questions.

Tinsley, still focused on her salad, said, “That’s sweet.”

“Cute?” The word hung in the air, making my cheeks flush again. I took a shaky breath, hoping no one noticed, and looked back at the register. Chandler was still there, our eyes meeting for a moment. His lips curved into a small smile, sending butterflies through my stomach. I quickly looked away, focusing on the droplets forming on my iced tea bottle, trying to calm my racing heart.

I took a careful bite of my sandwich, but the turkey and Swiss cheese felt dry and tasteless. Across from me, Chandler slid onto the empty stool beside Emory. Then, I spotted a new guy sitting next to Tinsley. I think he was a senior - tall and athletic. What was his name again?

"Hey everyone," Tinsley said. "This is Ashton."

Ashton nodded and gave a polite, shy smile. "Hey."

The chat buzzed around me as everyone introduced themselves. I learned Ashton had moved here from Timbervale last year, a town over an hour away. He used to be the main wide receiver there. Sports meant a lot to his family - his dad played football, and his mom was a track star. Then his parents divorced. His mom wanted a fresh start, so they moved to Sierra Vista. Now, Ashton is our quarterback, and we have our first game tomorrow.

"Oh wow, Tinsley has a new guy," Noelle teased, poking Tinsley’s arm.

Tinsley rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. "I’m not into boyfriends, Noelle. It’s more like a... situationship."

Noelle raised her eyebrows, amused. "Whatever makes you feel better."

Chandler, who had been quietly watching, leaned closer to me and said softly, "Eat."

I stared at him, my fingers tightening around the cold, wet glass of my iced tea. It wasn’t just a suggestion - it felt like a quiet command, with a hint of possessiveness that made me shiver despite the warm room.

I swallowed hard and kept my eyes on him. Then, I grabbed my sandwich, the bread suddenly feeling heavy and dry. Chandler’s blue-green eyes stayed on me a moment longer before he turned back to the group. I ate slowly, my mind racing with a strange mix of anxiety and excitement.

The loud lunch bell rang sharply, cutting through the noisy chatter and causing everyone to groan together. Students rushed out, backpacks on their backs, trays left behind on tables as they headed to the exit. I took a last refreshing sip of my iced tea, enjoying a brief moment of peace before afternoon classes.

French II was a hectic mix of verb conjugations and tricky pronunciations, which felt overwhelming after the sweaty chaos of PE - especially during a tough game of dodgeball where I just tried not to get hit. Eventually, the bright, creative space of Visual Arts offered a much-needed break. The afternoon passed with charcoal drawings and the faint smell of clay.

As I walked to my locker, I felt both tired and relieved. My muscles ached from dodgeball, but my mind was calm after losing myself in art. A small smile appeared. Even though the pop quiz was a disaster, the day wasn’t so bad.

Turning the corner, I saw Stetson leaning against Chandler’s locker, his hands moving as he talked quietly. Chandler leaned against the cold metal, rubbing his neck and shifting his weight.

Suddenly, Stetson’s voice cut through the noise, loud and clear: "Just go ahead and ask her."

I hesitated. Stetson was at it again, trying to play matchmaker. I almost sighed quietly.

"Ask who what?" I said, a little annoyed.

Chandler looked from Stetson, who wore a big, knowing smile, back to me. He took a breath, hands in his pockets. "Would you... want to get coffee?" he asked, voice a bit rough. "Before my shift starts?"

I glanced at Stetson, trying to read his face. Chandler was his closest friend, and I was Stetson’s twin. Whether I liked it or not, his opinion mattered.

"Are you cool with that?" I asked Stetson.

He shrugged, his smile softening. "I trust him."

I turned back to Chandler and smiled. "Alright," I said. "I’d like that."

I followed Chandler to his Jeep Wrangler Unlimited Sahara, a cool muted Sarge Green that suited him perfectly. He opened the passenger door for me with a slight nod, a polite gesture that made me feel a little warm inside. Then he walked around to the driver’s side, his boots softly tapping the pavement.

As we drove, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows. Chandler asked, “Do you want to go inside or just use the drive-thru?”

I paused, tempted by the idea of sinking into one of Java Junction’s comfy armchairs. Soon, his Jeep pulled into the familiar parking lot. I glanced at Chandler, who tapped his fingers lightly on the steering wheel, a hint of excitement on his face.

“Let’s go inside,” I said, unbuckling my seatbelt.

He smiled as he parked and turned off the engine. Meeting me at the front, he opened the door to Java Junction. As we stepped inside, a wave of comfort washed over me. The rich smell of fresh coffee mixed with soft chatter and the gentle sound of a guitar playing on the small stage in the back.

At the counter, the barista, an older woman with gray eyes and silver-streaked hair, greeted us warmly. “What can I get for you two?”

“I’ll have a vanilla latte, please,” I said.

“And I’ll take a black coffee,” Chandler added.

With our drinks in hand, we found a cozy spot by the bookshelves. I slowly sipped my latte, feeling its warmth calm my nerves. Across from me, Chandler relaxed in his armchair, idly tracing the edge of his coffee cup.

He placed his black coffee on the small table beside him, the ceramic making a soft sound. His attention shifted to the musician on stage, who played a soothing melody on his guitar.

Then Chandler turned to me, his ocean-blue eyes sparkling with an unexpected intensity. “Dance with me,” he said quietly.

I stopped mid-sip, the sweet taste lingering on my lips, completely caught off guard. “What?” I stammered, still processing.

A smile spread across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. He pointed to the empty space near the stage where a few chairs leaned against the wall. “Come on,” he urged gently.

I hesitated, looking around the coffee shop. It wasn’t crowded, but people were scattered about, lost in conversations, books, or laptops. Dance? Here?

Chandler didn’t wait for me to decide. He stood tall and reached out his hand. His voice was soft, almost a whisper. “It’s just us, Sloane.”

I took a deep breath, inhaling the rich coffee scent around us. Maybe it was the music or the warmth in his gaze that pulled me in. Slowly, I placed my fingers in his hand, feeling his steady grip as a comforting anchor.

He led me to the open area. The musician glanced up and nodded before slowing the music to match the moment.

Chandler’s hand rested lightly on my waist, sending a rush of awareness through me. I hesitated but placed my hand on his shoulder, feeling the soft fabric of his t-shirt against my palm, contrasting with the warmth radiating from him.

He started a gentle sway, simple and calm. I took a steadying breath and let myself get lost in the moment. The soft music and Chandler’s calm presence wrapped around us, creating a cozy bubble amid the coffee shop’s lively buzz.

His hold on my waist tightened just enough for me to notice, sending warmth rushing through me. He leaned in—not hurried or unsure, but with calm purpose.

His hand rose, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The brief touch sent shivers down my skin.

My heart raced, pounding wildly in my chest.

Before I could think or doubt, the last space between us disappeared.

A gentle, brief kiss - a soft touch of lips that sent a rush through my body.

When Chandler pulled back, he didn’t retreat. Instead, he held the delicate connection, his ocean-blue eyes locked on mine, searching for a response I struggled to find.

I exhaled, my breath hitching slightly as the air around us crackled with energy.

A small smile appeared on his face. “Another one?” he whispered softly.

My lips felt numb, still warm from the kiss. I nodded slightly, almost unnoticed.

He leaned in again, this kiss lasting longer and deeper. The guitar’s gentle strumming created a perfect background for our closeness.

When he finally pulled away, I couldn’t help but smile genuinely, even though I felt a bit nervous inside. That nervousness was overshadowed by a new lightness I hadn’t felt all day.

Chandler’s gaze lingered on mine a moment longer, a quiet question hanging in the air. Then he took my hand again, his thumb softly stroking my knuckles.

“We should probably... I have that shift,” he murmured, a hint of hesitation in his voice.

I nodded again, the moment broken by reality. “Right.”

He kept holding my hand as we returned to our table, grabbed our half-finished drinks, and stepped out into the warm afternoon sun. Outside Java Junction, the world felt a little brighter and gentler than before.

The quiet comfort of the Jeep surrounded us as Chandler drove, one hand on the wheel and the other near the gear shift. I held my paper cup, the vanilla latte now lukewarm against my fingers. I glanced at him. His jaw was tight, lost in thought, but a faint smile touched his lips. The memory of our brief kiss at Java Junction still warmed me.

At a red light, he turned to me. The late afternoon sun made his cerulean eyes almost glow. "You okay?" he asked, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine.

"Yeah," I whispered. His eyes were so blue, I thought, distracted by the sight.

His smile grew, crinkling the corners of his eyes. He nodded as the light turned green, and the Jeep moved forward. The engine's soft hum filled the silence.

As we neared my house, I felt a strange hesitation. I wished the drive could last longer. The cozy bubble from the coffee shop hadn’t quite burst, but the familiar streets reminded me reality was near.

Chandler stopped at the curb and turned off the engine. His fingers drummed softly on the wheel, restless. "So," he said, meeting my eyes, "will I see you later?"

I smiled while unbuckling my seatbelt. "Yeah," I said, maybe too quickly.

He waited as I opened the door and stepped out. The warm late afternoon air wrapped around me. When I closed the door and faced my house, I heard the Jeep start again. His headlights swept across the sidewalk, making me pause.

Before I reached the porch, I glanced back. He was still watching, holding my gaze for a moment before driving away. The Jeep’s fading sound left a quiet echo in the still afternoon.