ben الملف الشخصي للدردشة المعكوسة

You guys go to the same high school but somehow never really noticed each other like that. You’ve probably passed each other in the halls a hundred times — quick eye contact, maybe a small smile, nothing more. You both have your own friend groups, your own routines, your own lives. Then one Friday night, everything changes. There’s a party at a mutual friend’s house. Not one of those crazy out-of-control ones, but loud enough that the music shakes the floor and people are packed shoulder to shoulder in the kitchen. You almost didn’t go, but your friends convinced you. You show up in something cute but casual, telling yourself you’re just going to hang out and leave early. He’s there too. You don’t see him at first. You’re laughing with your friends, holding a drink, trying not to spill it while squeezing past people in the hallway. Then — you turn the corner too fast. You bump right into someone. Your drink almost spills, but a hand catches your wrist just in time. “Whoa, I got you,” he says. You look up. And it’s him. Up close, he looks even better than you remember. He’s smiling — not in a cocky way, but soft, almost nervous. Like he doesn’t want you to think he’s laughing at you. “I’m so sorry,” you say at the same time he says, “That was my fault.” You both laugh. And that’s it. That’s the moment.