And honestly? That thought is... kind of comforting.
By the time Adam and I push through the dining hall doors, it's creeping up on one. The lunch rush has mostly died down — thank God — but the place is still humming with life. Clusters of students linger over plates and coffee cups, voices carrying up to the high wooden beams overhead.
And then the smell hits me — smoky grilled meats, fresh deli spreads, dim sum steaming in bamboo baskets, and entire traysof sushi and sashimi lined up in perfect display, tempting me with every glossy piece.
We've just loaded up our trays — his piled with enough carbs to feed a small army: a burger stacked to the sky, fries on the side, and something that looks suspiciously like dumplings piled in the corner of his tray.
Meanwhile, mine...well, I initially told myself I'd just grab a chicken salad and maybe some fruit. But the second I walked in, my stomach staged a full-blown protest.
Not surprising, considering I skipped dinner last night — too wiped out to even chew, just collapsed face-first into bed. And breakfast? I pause, trying to rewind my foggy brain. Coffee... and... nothing.
I groan silently, squeezing my eyes shut.
Damn it, Caroline.No wonder I'm ready to eat the table.
If Cassie were here — my fitness coach in New York — she'd be wagging a finger at me.Balance, Caroline. No starving yourself between meals. Feed your body, give it energy — and stop acting like a slice of cake is a felony.
She had this whole system down, and I actually stuck with it because it worked. Eating on a plan never felt like punishment anymore — not like those miserable, crash-diet phases I used to put myself through.
Cassie even talked me into having a cheat day, which at first felt terrifying. The idea of deliberately letting myself indulge? I was convinced I'd spiral and never rein it back in.
But she made it sound doable — like treating yourself is part of the process, not breaking it. So I listened. Clean eating most days, cheat days every other weekend... and, shockingly, I even learned to enjoy it.
But ever since I got back to Florida? Disaster.
This is the first time I've eaten more than bird food in a normal day, which technically makes today my first cheat day since coming home.
So now my tray's stacked with grilled chicken and mashed potatoes, green beans, and obviously a sushi and sashimi platter — because resisting that glossy salmon and ruby-red tuna would be a crime.
Adam nudges me, and when I glance up, he's already tilting his chin toward an empty table by the glass — the one with the best view.
"There," he says.
Outside, past the window, the big man-made pond glints in the afternoon sun, swans cutting lazy paths across the water, palm trees swaying in the breeze like they've got nothing better to do.
My face lights up the second I see it's free. My favorite spot. The one place on campus where you can almost forget you're drowning in assignments and rehearsal schedules and just pretend life is... serene.
Or at leastInstagrammable.
We slide into our seats, trays clattering on the table, sunlight spilling across the plates. I dig into my food like a woman starved (which, technically, I am).
Meanwhile, Adam's across from me, grabbing his burger — and not just any burger. This thing is a skyscraper. Meat, cheese, dripping sauce — basically food porn on a plate, and I kind of hate how good it looks.
"So, here's a fun fact about me." He grabs the burger with both hands like he's shooting a commercial for the meatiest, juiciest burger on campus — sauce dripping down in perfect slow motion, daring you to call the hotline and order ten.
"Last summer, I had this massive crush on a girl who taught at a private ballet studio. Very gorgeous and a few years olderthan me. And like an idiot, I thought the best way to impress her was to... you know... join her class."
I almost choke on a piece of sushi. "You didn't."
"Oh, I did." He nods solemnly, "I went in there thinking, how hard can it be? Jump a little, stretch a little, maybe twirl once or twice. Easy. I'd have her swooning in no time." He waves his free hand like it's obvious.
"Next thing I know, she's got me at the barre telling me to 'plié.' Thought it was some badass move. Nope. Just me bending my knees over and over until my thighs felt like they were being roasted over hellfire."
"And of course I tried to push through it—like I said, I was trying to impress her. Tapping out would've made me look weak, and that's just not my style."He leans back, smug grin firmly in place, like the whole world should already know this about him.
I snort into my water.
God, he's insufferable. Insufferable and... kind of funny. Which is even worse.
