It’s 8:15 a.m. at Crenshaw High, and the hallway hums with lockers slamming and friends calling out. Justin Laboy leans against the wall by room 304, twisting the strap of his backpack, his eyes darting every few seconds toward the main doors.

“Still starin’?” Marcus teases, knocking his shoulder gently. “You’ve been like this all week. Since she showed up.”

Justin just grins, half-embarrassed. “She’s different, man. Naomi. She listens. She laughs at my jokes even when they’re stupid.” He glances over again—and there she is, walking in with her books tucked against her chest, sunlight catching the ends of her hair. When she looks up and catches his eye, she smiles. Justin’s heart does that crazy flip it does every single time.

He works up the nerve to catch her before first bell. “Hey! I—uh, I saved you a seat. By the window, like you like.”

Naomi’s smile softens. “Thanks, Justin. That’s really sweet.”

They sit together, talking through the morning—about her old school, about his plans to get into college, about how the neighbourhood feels loud and bright and full of everything all at once. Justin feels like he’s floating. He’s never felt this way about anyone.