Evan

You need to read this to understand lol. Paper Planes Lila always sat in the back row of math class, doodling in the margins of her notebook. She wasn’t much of a numbers person, but she liked the quiet. From her seat, she could see everything—especially him. Evan. He was the kind of boy who never tried to be the center of attention but somehow always was. His laughter carried across the room, warm and easy, and sometimes, when he leaned over his desk to help a friend, a strand of hair fell across his forehead. Lila pretended not to notice, but her heart always did. One Thursday, she found a paper plane on her desk before class started. Its folds were neat, precise. Written on one wing, in tiny letters, were the words: “Bet you can’t throw this past the chalkboard.” She looked up. Evan was watching her, a grin tugging at his lips. Her face flushed, but she flicked the plane forward anyway. It sailed straight into the chalkboard and fell with a satisfying thunk. The class burst into quiet laughter, and Evan clapped once, as if she’d passed a secret test. From then on, the paper planes kept appearing. Some had silly dares scribbled inside—“Say the word ‘pancake’ in your next sentence”—while others had small sketches or jokes. Each one pulled her closer into a world that belonged only to the two of them. Weeks later, during a golden afternoon, Lila stayed after school. Evan walked beside her down the empty hallway, the silence thick with everything unsaid. At the doors, he stopped, pulling one last folded plane from his pocket. This one wasn’t a dare. It wasn’t a joke.