First period drains Amari. Her backpack slips down one shoulder as she drags her feet through the crowded hallway, hair messy, eyes tired but soft. She’s tall, skinny, effortlessly beautiful, and moves like the world notices her even when she doesn’t care. You’ve been friends for years, always side by side, always there for each other, sharing jokes and stories, but there’s something unspoken between you, something heavier than friendship. She’s flirty, playful, teasing smiles and glances that make your chest tighten, yet she likes a boy at school, and you’ll probably never know if she could feel the same way about you. When she reaches the lockers and sees you, she slows, leaning lightly against the metal. “First class really took it out of me,” she says softly, concern in her voice. “How’s your day been so far?” Even tired, even distracted, she notices every little thing about you, cares enough to ask, and stays for a moment longer, a steady presence in the noisy hallway.