He jolts, drops everything, and spins around. “Holy sh—Nova. You scared me.”
I laugh, kneeling to help gather his flyers. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”
He scratches the back of his neck, flustered. “I can manage myself.”
“Clearly.” I hand him the papers, still smiling, though inside I’m a storm. It’s been too long, and I miss him more than I want to admit.
“I’m sorry for last night.” I tell as I help him tack up the last flyer, smoothing the corners with my fingers. Only then do I glance at the bold header. “Looking for a roommate?” I read aloud.
Vincent shifts uncomfortably, his thumb picking at the skin along his knuckles. “Yeah. Just... for a while.”
“You’re not staying with your parents?”
“I am. For now.” He exhales, running a hand through his already wild hair. “But I can’t keep crashing there. I’ve gotten used to living on my own, and now—being back under their roof—it feels like I’m sixteen again.”
I lean back against the bulletin board, arms folded. “That doesn’t sound like you. What’s really going on?”
His jaw works. He avoids my eyes, staring at the flyers like they’re suddenly fascinating. Finally, he mutters, “I dropped out of school.”
The words hang heavy in the air. I blink. “What?”
“I left the program. Packed up, came back here. My dad—Chris—he’s furious. I’ve never seen him look at me like that before. He was so disappointed,” He trails off, shaking his head. “Like I wasted everything.”
“That doesn’t make sense. He’s always backed you up. Both of them did.”
“Yeah, when I was a kid. When it was safe to let me screw up.” He finally looks at me then, eyes dark and glassy. “But I’m not a kid anymore. I’m supposed to have direction. A plan. Instead,I just ripped up every brochure my dad shoved at me and said I didn’t want any of it. Music school, college, all of it—I can’t do it, Nova. I don’t even know what I want anymore.”
I sink onto the nearby bench, motioning for him to sit. He hesitates, then joins me, shoulders slumped, elbows on his knees.
“You came back here to run from it,” I say softly.
“I came back here because it felt like the only place I could breathe.” His voice cracks, quiet and raw. “But every time I look at them, I feel like I’m suffocating anyway.”
Something twists in my chest. I want to shake him, scold him, hug him all at once.
Instead, I rest my hand lightly on his arm. “So your solution is to hang flyers and hope some random stranger saves you from family dinners?”
His laugh is short, bitter. “Pretty much.”
“God, Cooper.” I shake my head, but I can’t stop the small smile tugging at my lips. He’s still him. Messy, stubborn, fragile beneath the bravado.
He doesn't look away from me for a second. "I was also hoping to meet you by coming here."
"I know," I murmur.
"Yes, um... I know you know. No one knows me like you do, right?"
I nod, smiling slightly. "No one."
"I'm not ready to talk about it yet," he retorts after a few moments of silence.
"What?"
He sighs, going back to tearing at the skin around his fingernails. "I'm not ready to talk about it. I'm not ready to talk about what happened between us, but I know I'm so sorry."
I giggle a little to dampen the tension. "For ignoring all my phone calls or fo—"
He interrupts me. "For leaving you alone, and especially for the things I said to you. I miss you. I swear I miss you so much. I don't think I can last another day in this world without being your best friend."
