You Are Brighter than the Sun

A lot of people said that Evan Pearson was with me because I resembled his "first love" – the girl who dropped out of school to treat her depression.

I found a photo of that girl, which my roommate had somehow managed to dig up, and compared it with my own reflection in the mirror.

Well, our eyes and brows did look somewhat similar, but I couldn't quite imitate that girl's wistful, melancholic aura.

Everyone always said I was a natural optimist, the kind of person who'd light up a room with nothing but a smile, like sunshine on a clear day.

In that regard, I figured Evan and I made a pretty good match.

He was the type of person who could easily draw attention wherever he went. When he flashed that sly smile and his eyes sparkled, it felt like he could steal your focus completely.

I honestly couldn't picture how someone like him could have the patience to comfort a girl who might burst into tears at any moment.

1

The first time I met Evan was during Homecoming in my first year.

Our school wasn't anything fancy, just your typical public high school, but it had a ton of clubs – everything from the artsy to the quirky. As for me, I'd rather join a "Nap Club" than waste my time with something like the "Classical Literature Club," which was dry, boring, and utterly pointless.

Clearly, I wasn't the only one who thought that way.

Compared to the excitement of Homecoming, the Literature Club's room was quiet and tucked away in a corner of the school.

I had to pick up some books for a teacher in that room. I figured it would be empty, but when I opened the door, I saw someone leaning back in a chair, his head tilted up with a book covering his face. His legs were stretched out long across the floor.

When he heard the door creak, he tilted his head slightly, and the book slipped down to his chest.

The soft glow from the setting sun streamed through the window, casting half of his face in a warm, amber light. His eye, just barely visible beneath his messy hair, seemed almost hypnotic, like it was glowing.

We locked eyes for a long moment.

Honestly, it was not easy to pull your gaze away from Evan once he was looking at you.

And yet, he didn't look away either.

"Sorry, I was just... coming in to grab a book," I said, breaking the silence.

He raised an eyebrow, shifting his legs and giving me a relaxed nod.

"Go ahead."

I grabbed the book quickly. It wasn't hard to find it, since the shelves were organized neatly with everything in its place.

But when I turned to leave, I saw him still watching me, his chin resting in his hand, staring without blinking.

That's when the awkward silence settled between us.

Evan had this uncanny ability to make you feel nervous and unsure of what to do next.

The crazy thing was, he probably didn't even realize it.

"So, what grade are you in?" he asked with a slight grin, his eyes narrowing.

I blinked, still a bit stunned, and told him my grade. Without much thought, I walked out of the room, still feeling like I'd been caught in a strange dream.

As I was leaving, I heard him call out from behind me, his voice full of teasing amusement.

"I'm Evan Pearson. A first-year student as well!"

It took a moment for the words to sink in, and then I realized just how awkward I had been.

But honestly, who could resist a good-looking guy flashing you a smile like that?