My pulse stutters.
“We’d have space to work,” he adds, quieter now. “The place is huge. Quiet. No roommates. No Dog Pound. If we can get the data set to behave next week, we could draft the report while we’re there.”
Quiet.
The word settles low in my chest.
I should say no. This is crossing a line—from fake dating into something messier. Real time. Real proximity.
But the idea of a weekend without dorm noise or campus eyes pulls at something worn thin inside me.
Maybe I want to go.
Not for the project.
For him.
“Kieran, I don’t know if that’s?—”
“It wouldn’t be weird,” he says quickly. “You won’t be alone with me. There’ll be people everywhere. My sister will probably adopt you before we unpack.” A beat. “And I think you could use a break. From all this.”
He gestures vaguely at the campus beyond the windows.
He said it without me explaining.
That understanding hits harder than any color.
I look down at my notes. Then back up at him.
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll come.”
His shoulders drop in unmistakable relief.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
His smile this time isn’t practiced. It’s open, unguarded.
“We’ll leave after lunch on Friday,” he says, standing. “It’s gonna be good, Rules.”
I watch him walk away, my heart doing something Idon’t have a formula for. The lounge settles into hush. I flip to a clean page and write one word at the top.
Focus.
It doesn’t stick.
Tomorrow will be quiet.
Tomorrow will be productive.
Tomorrow will be ordinary.
I tell myself that until it almost sounds true.
Later,in my dorm, I open my laptop to review the project specs.
Instead, I click the video.
