Chapter 5: Graduation Night at Lou’s Pizza

The next time I saw Ethan was at the class get-together.

Goodbyes always stir up emotions.

And my relentless pursuit of Ethan made me something of a joke.

“Anna, are you still planning to confess to the class genius?”

Someone started, and the others quickly joined in.

“He rejected you again, right?”

“How many times is it now?”

“Why don’t you just say yes to her? She’s a rich girl, pretty and smart.”

“Yeah, if you two got together, you’d struggle a few years less.”

“…”

It was one thing for classmates to tease, but the chat chimed in too.

Group Chat: These people need to chill—the guy finally worked up some nerve and now they’re just making it worse.

Group Chat: Seriously, look at his face. He’s about to lose it.

Group Chat: He’s working so hard just to keep up with Anna. He wants to be worthy of her.

Group Chat: Oh my god, his love is so humble—I ship it.

Group Chat: ...

As if me shamelessly confessing nine times, getting laughed at by the whole class, was something to be proud of.

To be honest, Anna, you should consider me instead.

“Class genius, what do you think? If I chase her, you wouldn’t mind, right?”

The class president joked, but his eyes were serious.

He wore his letterman jacket like armor, but the way he twisted his hands around his phone told me he meant every word. There was a hopeful awkwardness in the air, the smell of pizza and root beer mixing with teenage bravado. We’d taken over the back room at Lou’s Pizza, the walls plastered with Little League team photos and faded Cubs posters.

“Whatever,” Ethan replied coldly, not even glancing at me.

Everyone’s looks turned to sympathy and mockery, and someone said—

“So what if her family’s rich? Isn’t she just a simp?”

“He doesn’t like her, and she still chases after him—so embarrassing.”

“I even saw her dad’s interview. If he knew his daughter was like this at school, would he still be able to laugh?”

Group Chat: That’s harsh. Why won’t he step in and help?

Someone in the chat asked.

But I knew, Ethan wouldn’t.

He sat at the end of the table, eyes on his water glass, shoulders hunched like he was bracing for a storm. He’d built a wall around himself, and not even our classmates’ laughter could get through.