I walked to my desk.I set my bag down.
I looked at the spot on the shelf where the game-day puck used to sit.
Wood now.A dusty circle in the laminate.
I sat down in my chair.I spun it around to face the room.
We had signed a constitution.We had established rules.Quiet hours.Guest protocols.Radiator management.
Now, the silence was absolute.
The radiator clanked—one sharp, metallic bang.
I didn’t flinch.I didn’t grab the wrench.I stared at it.
A sharp knock on the door made me jump.
“RA on rounds,” a voice called.
The door pushed open.Devon stood there, holding a clipboard.He looked bored, scanning the room for fire hazards or illegal hot plates.
His eyes landed on me, then swept to my side of the room.He took in the empty bed, the vacant desk.
Devon frowned, tapping his pen against the clipboard.He looked at Luke’s side of the room—posters still up, dirty laundry overflowing the hamper, hockey bag shoved in the corner.
He looked at mine: stripped mattress, bare desk, two duffel bags sitting by the door.
“You moving out?”
“Temporarily,” I lied, hoisting the strap of the heavier bag onto my shoulder.“I’m staying at Maya’s.Need a quiet environment for the thesis.”
Devon let out a low, sympathetic whistle.“Damn.Kayla owes me ten bucks.She bet Carter would be the one to bail first.”
I froze, my hand hovering over the light switch.“Bail on the room?”
“On the relationship,” Devon said, casual as if discussing the cafeteria menu.“We figured the draft pressure would make him snap.Didn’t think you’d be the one to walk.”
“Relationship,” I repeated.
“Yeah.Team ‘Lusten’ is taking a huge hit in the polls today.”Devon smirked, checking a box on his form.“Kayla wanted ‘Ausuke,’ but I told her that sounded like a sneeze.”
“You… knew.”
“Lovell, you guys share a twelve-by-twelve room and you look at him like he hung the moon.The walls are thin.It hasn’t been a secret since the semester started.Kayla had it pegged last October.”
My stomach dropped.The “secret” we’d been destroying ourselves to protect—the potential scandal I was removing so he could have his shot—hadn’t been a secret at all.It was a campus-wide spectator sport.
“Right,” Devon said, oblivious to the fact that he had just dismantled my entire logic for leaving.“Well.Hang in there, man.If you ever need to talk, that’s what I’m here for.”
He closed the door.
I stood in the silence, staring at Luke’s unmade bed.I was leaving to save him from a liability that apparently didn’t exist.
I hit the light switch, plunging his mess and my emptiness into the dark, and walked out.
Maya:I’m at Buckman Grill.Come eat.You can’t photosynthesize despair.
I stared at the text.Maya was a good friend.She was trying to force a variable change.
