Calm. Steady. Homey. Any other synonym you want to use. 

The soft, golden light was enough to light up the classroom. No lamps, no harsh overhead lights, but the warm sun on their backs. 

She was reading. He was playing. 

You would think they would both be silent, at least quiet. But with gaps filled with noise every thirty seconds, that was not the case. 

Luckily, no one else was in the room due to everyone racing to the lunch room. But these two didn’t notice. Or didn’t care. Either way, they hadn’t moved. 

Those are the perks of sitting in the back, by the window. No one bothers you. Well, except for who’s already back there. 

She was still reading. He was still playing. Every fist thrown into the air with a gleeful or saddening gesture, she looked up from her book. Every, “Let’s go!” or, “Damn…” she would barely glance. Each time seeing whether or not he was winning. 

She shifted to get better lighting from the window. He mistook it for agitation from his muttering. Not a single sound left his lips after. 

Once in a while, they could hear people talking their lives away. It was always what they wanted to do after they graduated. What colleges to apply to, what major they’re getting, and so on. It’s what everyone talked about. Except for these two.

He set his phone down, and looked out at who was speaking of such things. He leaned back and set his head against the wall. 

With turning a page, she sensed his disrupted mood. She turned over in her seat to face him. Of course, without meeting his eyes. It wouldn’t have mattered. His were closed, listening, waiting. 

She was reading Private Label. Picked it from the school’s library, not expecting much of a story. Again. 

It was ten minutes from lunch being over.

She looked up to see him facing her, head to the wall, eyes closed. She hadn’t realized how smooth his hair looked. 

It must be because of the sun, she thought.

They could hear another group of people walking past. He sighed, opening his eyes. 

He looked over at her, secretly. 

It looks like she’s glowing, he thought.

Seven minutes.

She was reading. He was looking. Looking at her. Studying, noticing the facial expressions she gave while experiencing a new story. She knew he was staring. She didn’t mind. 

Four minutes.

At last, she glanced up at him, to which he shifted his gaze somewhere - anywhere else. 

The bronze sunlight somehow got brighter, and gave a heavenly look to everything in the room, including them. 

She was admiring. He was searching. Searching for what? Perhaps an excuse as to why he stared for so long. 

Three minutes.

She put her feet under his chair, relaxing against her’s. Finally, she continued to read. After a few seconds, he again fixed his gaze, not on her this time, but a tree. A tree with its leaves grasping on, looking a little more brown than usual. It reminded him of her sweater. How comfortable it looked. 

Two minutes.

They couldn’t hear anyone talking outside, couldn’t hear any footsteps. You would’ve believed the place was abandoned. 

He put his feet under her chair, slightly grazing her leg. 

One minute.

She focused her eyes on him. On how lovely his presence was. 

He began to stare back at her. Both of their eyes, finally introducing themselves to each other.

They chuckled. 

Zero. 

Everyone came rushing back into the classroom. Talking their lives away. Sitting down, waiting for the teacher to walk through the door. 

She was reading. He was playing. Knees barely touching.