The first one's from Lucy.
LUCY
Already at the lecture hall. Where are you? Class starts in fifteen.
I nearly roll my eyes. Classic Lucy.
This is the same girl who thinks "on time" means showing up thirty minutes early just so she can claim the dead-center seat. Lucy lives for being first in the room — she's probably already got her notes spread out and color-coded before the professor's even finished their pre-class coffee.
I tap back a reply.
ME
Chill, I'm coming. Save me a seat!
Then I open the other two.
Both from Zach.
ZACH
Good morning, sugarplum. Wanna grab breakfast together?
The second one makes me groan out loud.
ZACH
Or I can just show up outside your dorm and bribe you with coffee until you say yes.
I stare at the screen, biting the inside of my cheek.
He's not actually going to wait outside my dorm, right?
The thought makes my heart thud against my ribs like it's trying to escape. And I hate it — hate how warm the idea makes me feel, how stupidly fluttery it makes my chest.
It's been over a week since I last saw him — that night in his room, when we finally said all the things we'd been holding back for the last three years.
Since then, he's asked me out a few times, inviting me to grab coffee or a quick bite, and every single time, I turned him down with some excuse about being busy with class or Capstone rehearsals.
Which, okay, isn'tcompletelya lie. Ihavebeen busy. But if I really wanted to, I could've carved out twenty minutes to see him.
But I didn't.
Because the old me — the girl who waited around for him after every practice, who said yes the second he asked, who jumped at every crumb of attention — she would've said yes in a heartbeat.
And that girl? I'm not her anymore.
I want this to be different. Ineedit to be different.
God. I want to smack myself for smiling. I really do. But there it is, stretching across my face anyway — a stupid, traitorous smile that I try to smother by biting my lip.
Ever since I unblocked him, Zach's been blowing up my phone like it's his part-time job.
And I don't mean casual check-ins, either. I meannonstop. Good morning texts, random memes, late-night "are you still awake?" messages — the guy replies faster than Amazon Prime shipping.
And, okay, I hate to admit it, but there's something satisfying about it. Like the universe finally decided to flip the script.
Because once upon a time, I was the one glued to my phone, rereading our text threads, waiting like an idiot for him to text back.
