The Hallway Countdown

by a very nervous, overly hopeful girl who thinks way too much in three minutes.

It's 2:56 PM. Seventh hour just ended, and I'm standing in front of my locker, staring at the photo of my dog taped to the inside. She looks calm. Peaceful. Exactly how I'm not.

I have four minutes. Four minutes until the last bell rings and school's over. Four minutes until I either do something totally brave or completely stupid. Or both.

The hallways are loud. People are shouting plans for after school-track practice, Starbucks, rides home. It's all blending together like static in my ears because all I can think about is him.

Jayden.

I've had a thousand conversations in my head about how this would go. About what I'd say. "Hey." "So... I've been thinking..." "Do you still think about us?" But right now, my mouth is dry, my palms are sweaty, and my heart is going boom-boom-boom so loud I swear it's echoing off the lockers.

2:57 PM.

He always walks past this hallway at 2:58. I know because I've watched him do it like a total stalker for the last three weeks. Not in a creepy way. Just in a I used to mean something to you and now I mean nothing but I still care kind of way.

Okay. Maybe that's still creepy.

We dated for three months. That's like... practically a decade in freshman time. We broke up two months ago. No big fight. No huge betrayal. Just too many things left unsaid, too many silences that felt heavier than words. But I've changed. I've learned how to listen, how to talk without exploding. I just don't know if it matters anymore.

2:58 PM.

There he is.

I spot the curls first-messy, perfect, always falling into his eyes. He's walking down the hallway with his friends, laughing at something. His backpack's half unzipped, like always, and I can see the edge of that crumpled Red Bull can poking out the side pocked. Classic Jayden.

This is it. My feet start moving before I can chicken out.

"Jayden!"

He pauses mid-step. Turns. Eyes lock. His friends slow down a little but keep walking. They know what this is. Or maybe they don't. Maybe I'm just imagining everyone watching us like this is some kind of high school movie scene.

"Hey," he says, his voice soft and a little confused. He doesn't sound mad. He doesn't sound anything, really. Just... surprised.

I feel my throat close up, but I force words out. "I-I just wanted to say something. Real quick. Before the bell."

He glances up at the clock. 2:59. "Okay."

God. I'm actually doing this.

"I know this is random," I start, clutching my phone like its a lifeline, "but I've been thinking about how things ended. And I just-I'm not trying to like, make it a big thing or be dramatic, But I never said what I really wanted to say."

He doesn't interrupt. Just watches me with those warm brown eyes that used to feel like home.

"I know I messed up," I say, voice cracking just a little. "I talked more than I listened. I made everything about me. And I didn't know how to give you space without panicking. I get it now. I see it."

His eyes flicker with something-maybe surprise, maybe hurt. I can't tell.

"I guess I just want you to know that I didn't stop caring. And I'm not saying we should try again or anything. I just... wanted you to know that I remember. I remember the good stuff. And I still think about it sometimes."

There's a pause. A beat. Then-

DING DING DING

The last bell rings.

People flood the hallway like a tidal wave, pushing past us, yelling goodbye, slamming lockers. But all I see is him. All I hear is silence.

And then he says, "I think about it too."

My heart stutters. I blink. "You do?"

He nods, eyes soft. "I just didn't know if you wanted to talk. You seemed like you moved on."

"I didn't," I whisper. "Not really."

Another pause. The hallway starts to clear out.

He smiles-small, real. "You wanna walk with me?"

I nod, somehow managing not to melt into the floor.

We walk side by side toward the front doors, not touching, not rushing. Just two people with a lot of history and maybe a little hope.

It's 3:01 PM.

And somehow, in the span of a few minutes, everything feels a little less like an ending and a little more like a maybe.

We walk in silence for a few steps, but it's not the awkward kind that used to hang between us when things were falling apart. It's... calm. Comfortable, almost. Like my heart finally stopped trying to claw its way out of my chest and just decided to sit down for a second.

The parking lot comes into view. The sky's that soft, tired blue it gets after a long day, with streaks of orange starting to show near the edges. Spring is trying to show up early this year-it's warm, but not quite. Just enough to make you think you don't need a hoodie and then instantly regret it.

He kicks a stray rock as we walk. "I'm glad you said something," he says quietly. "I thought maybe you hated me."

I stop walking. "What? No. I never hated you."

He shrugs one shoulder, the way he always does when he's pretending not to care as much as he does. "I just didn't know. You kind of disappeared after."

I look at him, really look at him. He's still him. Still the boy who made me laugh at stupid memes, who held my hand like it was the most normal thing in the world, who memorized the way I take my coffee. But there's something different now too. A little more distance in his eyes. A little more careful.

"I didn't know what to say," I admit. "Everything felt heavy. Like no matter what I did, it was the wrong thing."

He nods slowly. "Yeah. Same."

I toe the edge of the sidewalk. "Do you ever wish we'd handled it differently?"

His hands go into his pockets. "Sometimes. But I also think we needed the space. I needed to figure stuff out. You probably did too."

"I did," I say. "And I still am."

We stand there for a second. The breeze messes up his curls again, and he doesn't fix them. He never does.

"Would you hate me if I said I kinda missed you?" I ask, biting my lip.

He doesn't answer right away, and my stomach does this annoying twisty thing again. But then he says, "No. Because I missed you too."

That shouldn't make me smile as much as it does, but it does. I look down at my shoes to hide it.

Jayden takes a breath. "I'm not saying we should jump back into anything. But... maybe we could talk more. Start over, a little."

"Yeah," I say, voice a little lighter. "I'd like that."

The late bus honks from the lot, and someone's yelling to their friend across the street. But it all feels kind of distant now. It's just us, standing on the edge of what was and maybe-possibly-what could be again.

He glances at his phone. "You need a ride?"

I shake my head. "I'm walking today."

Jayden hesitates. "Can I walk with you?"

I look up at him, smiling without hiding it this time. "Yeah. You can."

And just like that, we turn away from the school, side by side, no promises or pressure. Just two people walking into the same direction again, slowly-maybe for the first time, the right way.