Chapter 4: Small Talk and Missed Chances

Someone noticed me.

“Mike, you’re a shoo-in for NYU, right?”

Rachel heard this and turned to look, clearly interested in my answer.

Meeting her gaze, my heart skipped a beat. “Not sure yet.”

“Don’t be so modest. If you don’t get into Columbia, NYU is guaranteed,” the classmate said confidently.

“Thanks, but I’ll have to wait for the results.” I smiled politely.

When I looked back, Rachel was still watching me. I tried to suppress my pounding heart and looked away awkwardly.

After a while, she chuckled. “Didn’t do well on the SATs?”

I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me. I glanced over—she was still looking right at me.

I froze, then pointed at myself. “You mean me?”

She smiled. “Who else?”

I glanced around—everyone else had drifted off to play games. Only she and I remained in the corner.

I felt a bit embarrassed. “I did… okay.”

She frowned. “Was it math that tripped you up?”

I was surprised she even knew about my math struggles.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

She seemed to think for a moment. “So what’s your GPA looking like?”

I replied, a little uncertain, “Barely passing senior math, but I’m hoping NYU still wants me.”

She seemed relieved, her face relaxing. “Good.”

After a pause, she asked again, “Any plans for the summer?”

I was confused—she was unusually chatty today. We hardly ever talked. I’d always thought she barely knew I existed.

“Not sure yet.” I smiled again.

She nodded. “Melissa said you had something to do earlier. I thought you weren’t coming.”

The light caught her face, highlighting her faint smile.

Seeing her lips curve, my heart fluttered right along with them.

“Nah, just had some stuff to handle. That’s why I was late.” I was so nervous I stuttered a little.

After that, we looked at each other for a moment, then both glanced away, embarrassed.

A brief silence.

She spoke up: “Mike…”

She hadn’t finished when the class president came over.

“Rachel, come here! This guy’s still arguing with me about that problem. You settle it—did I solve it right?” The class president pulled her away.

She glanced back at me, then followed him to the front table.

She moved with an ease that made my awkwardness feel twice as obvious. The laughter from the kitchen was loud—someone had started karaoke, singing off-key to "Don’t Stop Believin’." I sank further into the couch, replaying her smile in my mind.