Chapter 4

On my first day as a transfer student at Nousiville Academy, the moment I stepped into the classroom, the entire class fell silent for a brief second.

I was not exaggerating. That was the fact.

My name, Emelia Langley, was not unfamiliar at Nousiville Academy.

The transfer incident from three years ago, Leon's so-called dream girl he kept mentioning, and that photo still making rounds on the school forum all turned me into a campus legend.

"Whoa, is that the girl Leon can't get over?"

"She looks even better in real life than in those pics."

"Didn't she move away? Why is she back all of a sudden?"

Whispers spread through every corner of the room. I acted as though I did not hear them. I lowered my head and walked straight to the last row, taking the seat by the window.

I chose that spot deliberately. It was by the window, at the back, and out of sight. It fit the image of an unattainable dream girl, quiet, unobtrusive, and never seeking attention.

From there, I could also observe the entire classroom layout, including Greta and Leon seated near the front.

They were indeed in the same class, and a narrow aisle separated their desks.

After sitting down, I let my gaze drift casually toward the front rows.

Greta was slumped over her desk with her face buried in her arms. She did not seem to be in a good mood. A short-haired girl beside her leaned in and whispered something quietly.

Leon sat diagonally behind Greta. His head was lowered as he scrolled through his phone, looking completely indifferent.

The seat next to him was empty. It belonged to his good friend, Neil Bradshaw, who asked for leave that day.

When the bell rang, the homeroom teacher entered and introduced me.

I stood at the front of the class, gave a slight bow, and spoke clearly enough for everyone to hear. "Hi, everyone. I'm Emelia Langley. Nice to meet you all."

A few claps sounded from the students below.

When I stepped down from the podium and passed Greta's desk on my way back, she lifted her head and looked at me.

Her expression was complicated. There was hostility, caution, and a hint of challenge, as if she were preparing herself for something.

I gave her a brief smile, said nothing, and walked back to my seat.

Math class was the first lesson of the day.

I rested my chin on my hand and listened for a while, but the pace of the lesson felt much slower than what I was used to at my old school. So, I picked up my pen and started working through some practice problems.

About twenty minutes in, a stir rippled through the front rows.

I looked up and saw Greta turning sideways, whispering to Leon. Her voice was quiet, but from my spot, I could make out what she was saying.

"Leon, I can't figure out this problem. Can you help me?" she said, sliding her notebook over and tapping a question. She leaned closer, her shoulder nearly touching his arm.

Leon glanced at her, his tone flat. "We're in class. Ask me after."

"But I'll forget by then," Greta pouted. "Explain it to me. It'll be quick."

Leon frowned, but in the end, he still took her notebook, scribbled down a few formulas, and slid it back.

"Take a look. If you still don't get it, ask me again," he said.

Greta took the notebook back, glanced down, and smiled. "Leon, you're the best."

As she turned back around, her gaze swept over me casually.

There was a look of triumph in her eyes, as though she was silently saying, "See? He still cares for me."

I lowered my head and went back to my exercises, my expression blank and unreadable.

It wasn't that I didn't care. It was simply that this kind of petty provocation wasn't worth responding to.

She had to make the first move with Leon. She needed to act sweet, play weak, and find excuses to get close to him.

But me? I didn't have to do anything. Leon always came to me without any effort on my part.

As expected, as soon as the bell rang, Leon stood up, crossed half the classroom, and walked right over to my desk.

"You following along? Need me to explain anything?" he asked, pulling up a chair and flipping through my notebook.

"I'm alright, but a bit rusty on some of the formulas," I replied.

"Which ones?" He pulled his chair closer, leaned in, and ran his finger along the page. "This one? Or this one?"

His hair brushed against my ear, the scent of his shampoo fresh and clean.

I tilted my head slightly to give him more space, which only brought us closer together.

To Greta, it must have looked like our heads were practically touching.

I didn't bother turning around to check her reaction, but I could feel her glare practically drilling holes in the back of my head.

"This one," I said, pointing at a function question. "I think there's an easier way to solve it."

"Yeah, see? You can use substitution here," Leon replied, grabbing my pen and sketching out the steps on the scratch paper, his voice low and patient.

I tilted my head to watch his hand as he wrote. His fingers were long and slender, his knuckles sharp. He still held the pen the same way he did when we were kids, with his thumb sticking up a little.

"Why are you staring?" Leon looked up, meeting my gaze.

"Just watching you write," I said. "It's like when you were little."

His ears went red again.

"Quit messing around," he said quietly, lowering his head and getting back to the problem. "Focus on the problem."

I responded with a hum like a good student and looked down at the question.

From the corner of my eye, I caught Greta bolting from her seat and rushing out of the classroom.

She moved so fast that she nearly slammed into the doorframe.

Leon didn't notice at all. He was completely focused on explaining the problem to me.

But I noticed.

And I caught a glimpse of her red-rimmed eyes as she left.

*****

At lunchtime, I went to the cafeteria.

Neil asked Leon to play basketball, but before Leon left, he made sure to grab me some food and set it down at the pick-up window.

"Go ahead and eat. I'll be back as soon as I'm done," he said with sweat dripping from his face, and then he rushed out of the cafeteria.

With my tray in hand, I sat by the window and slowly ate my glazed baby back ribs.

Halfway through my meal, someone suddenly sat down across from me.

It was Greta. She had the same meal on her tray, and her face was unusually calm as she looked at me.

"Emelia," Greta said, her expression neutral. There was no smile or playful tone. "Let's talk."

I set down my fork and met her gaze. "Alright, what do you want to say?"

She was silent for a moment and then finally asked, "Do you think I'm trying to steal Leon from you?"

The question was blunt, far too direct, and completely unlike her usual style.

It threw me off for a second, not because of the question itself, but because of her demeanor.

She wasn't acting like Leon's good buddy. She had no fake smiles or playful banter. She was being straightforward, laying everything on the table.

What did that tell me?

It meant she was getting anxious.

After Leon rejected her in front of everyone yesterday and then went straight to me today, whatever patience she had left had almost run out.

People were more likely to make mistakes when they were panicking.

"I don't think so at all." I shook my head, giving her an honest look. "You're Leon's friend. Of course, you two are close."

"Drop the act," Greta said, her gaze sharp. "I know you can't stand me. I saw it the first day we met."

I stayed quiet for a moment and then let out a gentle sigh.

"Greta, you're reading too much into this. Honestly, I don't dislike you."

"Then why—"

"But," I interrupted, my voice still gentle but more firm, "there's something I really need to tell you."

She paused, surprised. "What?"

I met her eyes and said seriously, "Leon may seem easygoing, but he's actually quite cautious. He doesn't like people hovering over him or making decisions for him. He can tell when you're being kind to him, but you need to give him some space."

Every word I said was the truth, and honestly, I had Leon's best interests at heart.

But at the same time, I was directly telling Greta that she was doing it all wrong.

She stuck to him like glue. She never gave him room to breathe. She made every choice for him.

Greta's face turned pale.

"What gives you the right to lecture me?" she spat, her voice low but full of anger. "Who do you think you are? You're someone he grew up with. What makes you think you have any say in his life?"

I stayed calm, not responding to her challenge or arguing back.

I only looked at her quietly, waiting for her to finish.

Then, I said softly, "You're right. I don't have any say in his life. I'm not getting involved. I'm only letting you know what he's like. Whether you care or not, that's up to you."

With that, I picked up my tray and stood up to leave.

"Emelia!" Greta called out from behind me, her voice shaky. "Do you like him?"

I paused, not turning around.

"You should ask him that," I said.

*****

As I stepped out of the cafeteria, the sun beat down on my face, hot and relentless.

I squinted against the glare, pulled out my phone, and texted Leon: [The glazed baby back ribs in the cafeteria aren't as good as they used to be. Did you eat the best part?]

Three seconds later, he sent a voice message.

I tapped it open and heard him panting, with the sounds of the basketball court echoing in the background.

"Come on. I got that food myself. There's no way I'd shortchange you! Hang tight. I'll be right there and get you another meal," he said.

I smiled and slipped my phone back into my pocket.

As I walked past the field, I spotted Greta coming out of the cafeteria as well. She stood in the doorway, staring toward the basketball court, her expression shifting from anger to hurt, and then hardening into resolve.

She pulled out her phone and dialed someone.

I couldn't catch the words, but I saw her mouth: "I won't give up."

I looked away and kept walking.

Not giving up, huh?

Alright, keep at it then.

Losing was never in my plans for this game anyway.

*****

The first week after I transferred, everything went exactly as I had planned.

To everyone else, Leon and I seemed like the perfect childhood sweethearts reunited after years apart.

He picked me up and dropped me off at school. We had lunch together, and we walked home after evening study sessions. Sometimes, he'd bring me a cup of coffee. Sometimes, I'd bring him a bottle of water.

All our interactions felt natural and comfortable, with no boundaries crossed.

Meanwhile, Greta had definitely toned down her presence this week.

She stopped showing up at Leon's door early in the morning, stopped wearing his clothes, and stopped clinging to him with that "best friend" act.

She started to keep her distance from him. She no longer chatted with him during class or after class, and she didn't even sit at the same table with him in the cafeteria.

On the surface, it seemed like she was stepping out of the picture.

But I knew exactly what was going on. She wasn't backing down. She was switching up her game plan.

She realized that going after Leon head-on wasn't working, so now she had decided to play it cool and wait for the right moment to strike.

She was biding her time, hoping for me to slip up, for Leon to grow bored with me, and for him to come looking for her again.

In her mind, the "unattainable dream girl" idea worked best from a distance. If I were with Leon every day, my flaws would start to show, and the allure of being out of reach would disappear.

When that day came, as the one who had always been there, quietly waiting, she would be Leon's new choice.

I had to admit that her plan made sense.

If I were really an average, unattainable dream girl, gentle and kind without any scheming, she might have actually pulled it off.

But too bad for her, she had me to deal with.