It was spring - year six.
They were the last ones at school after the spring recital, helping clean up when the power flickered off in a storm.
They found themselves in the library, candles glowing from emergency packs, thunder rumbling like the slow beat of something ancient.
"I used to love storms as a kid," Ainsley whispered.
"Still do," Calvin murmured.
She looked at him then, truly looked at him.
His hair damp from rain, eyes gleaming.
He reached up and tucked a damp strand of hair behind her ear.
She leaned in.
And then pulled back.
"I can't."
"I know," he said, voice raw.
But they didn't leave right away.
They sat on the library floor for another hour, hands close, hearts closer.