The dining hall was a swirl of noise and bodies—students weaving between wobbly tables, laughter bouncing off low ceilings, the smell of burnt coffee and indistinguishable food hanging thick in the air.
Most people scattered around the stations: the Salad Situation, the Fork & Flame, and mostly ignored The Blue Lagoon. The only real line in the whole place snaked out from Griddle Grotto, where they served their famous terriblepancakes. Not the good kind, not blueberry like Penny’s in my hometown—just rubbery cafeteria pancakes.
Emily waved as soon as she spotted me.
She reached up to straighten my collar the moment I got close. “Rough morning?” she asked, fingers brushing my shirt.
“No, just working out.”
She hummed. “Thought so.”
Emily was put-together. Auburn hair braided down her back, freckles dusting her nose, eyes bright and patient. She laced her fingers through mine and tugged me toward the Blue Lagoon.
“Okay, so remember that psych class I wouldn’t shut up about?” she said. “The professor finally posted the syllabus and it’s a nightmare. Weekly labs, a research project right away, and apparently he ‘doesn’t believe in easing into things.’ I mean—sir. It’s week one.”
“You’ll survive,” I said.
She narrowed her eyes. “You said that about chem last year.”
“And you’re still here.”
A freshman clipped Emily’s shoulder as he hurried past—wide-eyed, drowning in Riverside swag: a red hoodie, a Riverside lanyard, notebooks and folders stamped with the River Jack mascot. Freshmen always seemed to think wearing everything at once would help them blend in. It never did.
“Hey,” I said, sharper than I meant to.
“Sorry—sorry,” he blurted, face flushing as he backed away.
Emily touched my arm. “It’s okay. He’s fine.”
The kid nodded once and disappeared into the crowd.
We stepped up to the Blue Lagoon line. The menu looked rough: Egg Scramble, Hash Brown Squares, Sausage Links.
Emily turned to me and lifted her eyebrows.
“At least we’re not waiting for pancakes,” I said, nodding at the massive line at Griddle Grotto.
She smirked. “Please. I have self-respect.”
“Hey... that was our first date. You loved ’em!”
“I lied because I thought you were hot.”
I shook my head.
We reached the front, loaded our plates with Blue Lagoon’s finest questionable items, and found a small table near the windows. It was sticky, but at least it didn’t wobble.
Emily dropped into her seat and poked one of her hash brown squares. “This is either going to fuel me or kill me.”
“Fifty-fifty,” I said.
She grinned and started talking again, unpacking the details of her class.
“I just know half the class is going to drop by midterms. And the professor says office hours fill up fast, but I need to talk to him sooner because the research assignment is—“
That’s when it hit me. Not her voice—Alex’s expression on the river. His breath steady while mine tore out of me. The heat under my skin. That stupid, electric jolt when our boats pulled even. I stared at the eggs on my plate but saw the wake behind his single.
My jaw tightened.
