Then again, this is just step one; I can’t give up yet. I’ve got to keep pushing. After all, they say shoot for the stars, right?
The next day, I’m slouched in the locker room, sweat sticking to my skin, the sharp scent of the gym filling the air. The towel around my neck does little to comfort me. My phone rests in my hand, my thumb hovering over the screen, like the next move could set something off, but I can’t decide if I’m ready for it.
Chase leans in from behind his locker, that familiar cocky grin plastered on his face. “Writing her a novel?”
“Just a question,” I say, barely sparing him a glance.
He and Troy share a look, both of them clearly not buying it.
I can feel their eyes on me, but I take another deep breath and force myself to type. Keep it light. No pressure. No desperation. Just… casual.
Me:what’s your stance on haunted houses? asking for a friend who might need a partner to scream with.
Chase glances over. “Waiting for her reply?”
“Don't start,” I mutter.
We sit in silence, all of us pretending we’re not fixated on the screen, waiting to see if we won the lottery. Sure enough, the dots pop up. And then they disappear.
“Nothing,” I confess defeat, holding onto the phone like it’s a bomb that might explode.
“Maybe she hates haunted houses,” Troy jokes, offering his two cents, because, you know, that’s helpful.
“Or maybe she hates me.”
Chase, always the optimist, tosses a towel at my face. “If she hated you, she would’ve blocked you by now.”
Troy, with his usual brutal honesty, cuts in. “Yet.” He glances at me with a pointed look. “Which is more than you deserve after what you pulled.”
I keep my mouth shut, but the truth of his words sits in the back of my mind.
Chase pats my back. “Girls like Alli? They don’t ghost unless they don’t care. You’re good. She’s probably just making you work for it.”
Work for it. Yeah, I can handle that.
I pull up my phone again while I’m at Study Brew, trying to focus on my assignment. The sound of clinking cups and muffled voices around me blur together, but I can’t concentrate.
I’ve lost track of time. I didn’t even notice when the barista refilled my water glass. My fingers hover above the screen. What could I send her now that might actually make her smile?
It takes a moment of hesitation, but then, a thought hits me.
Me:i just walked past a dog that looked like a puzzle piece
Me:can you believe that’s a thing? i’ll send you a picture next time
Me:and i’ll also apologize
I press send, and then it’s pure torture as I force myself to look at my notes for the next hour. The phone sits there, mocking me, no response.
I can practically hear Chase in my head, telling me not to overthink it.
I lean back, my chest tight with unease. The door swings open, and her laugh cuts through the air—unmistakable,familiar. My head jerks toward the sound before I can stop it, and there she is, standing in the doorway.
She doesn’t see me. She’s caught in her own world, animated and laughing as she looks at her phone, completely unaware that I’m here. But I can’t look away.
My eyes dart to my phone again, and a notification lights the screen.
Alli:you’re making that up.
