“He’s coming!”
I’d heard them before I saw him—two girls standing near the doors, whispering and giggling like they were sharing state secrets. His name slipped out between their laughter, soft and breathless.Matty Adler. They said it the way people talked about movie stars, not real men who took up space on the same campus.
I shifted on my bench, tucking one leg under the other and adjusting the straw in my iced coffee, pretending I wasn’t listening, wasn’t waiting. My pulse tapped out a rhythm in my throat anyway. The concrete under me was cold, the morning sun sharp against my skin, and I glanced down at my phone, even though I already knew what time it was.
9:14.
The door creaked open. A rush of voices spilled out, footsteps scuffing against tile…and then he was there.
I inhaled, sharp and involuntary, like relief, like oxygen after holding my breath too long. He was dressed in a gray Tigers hoodie and jeans that should honestly have been illegal, the ones that hung low enough to hint and fit tight enough to torture. A Tigers hat shadowed his eyes, and somehow, he still managedto look like he owned the entire damn world just by walking through a doorway.
I knew his schedule better than my own. Mondays and Wednesdays, he had sports psychology at eight a.m. I’d set up my schedule so I could sit outside that building those days, on the second bench from the door, iced coffee in hand, pretending I was waiting for someone.
At nine fifteen, he walked out.
Every time.
Sometimes he had his headphones in, lost somewhere far away in a world I’d never reach, probably listening to Dashboard Confessional, even though he’d never admit it to anyone. I only knew because once, when he’d taken his hoodie off after practice, his phone had lit up on the bench beside him, and the song title “Hands Down” had flashed across the screen.
After that, I started listening to them, too. I memorized every song, every lyric, every aching chord, like maybe if I learned the words he loved, I’d understand the parts of him no one else ever would.
Sometimes Jace was beside him, talking a mile a minute about who knows what while Matty just nodded along, half listening.
And sometimes he walked with girls, their laughter spilling across the sidewalk, light and easy. He’d smile at them, really smile, and it felt like something inside me cracked each time. Like I was watching him hand pieces of himself to people who didn’t even realize how lucky they were.
He never looked at me as he passed.
Not once.
Today, thankfully, he was alone.
There was a frown tugging at his mouth, though, and it made me wonder what he was thinking, what could crease his face likethat. He looked tired. Weighted. Human in a way he rarely did when he was surrounded by people chanting his name.
Matty walked past, close enough that the scent of his cologne brushed the air between us—clean, warm, unfairly good—and my pulse jumped. Before I even realized what I was doing, I was on my feet, falling into step behind him. I kept enough space between us, careful to stay hidden within clusters of students crossing the quad. I matched his pace, slowing when he slowed, quickening when he did, pretending I was just another face in the crowd…when really, I was orbiting him.
I tried to get his attention once. I got brave, or at least convinced myself I did.
That morning, I had stood in front of my mirror for nearly an hour, curling my hair into loose waves that brushed my shoulders and swiping on lipstick in the shade that was supposed to make my mouth look fuller. My hands shook when I slid into the short floral dress I’d bought just for him, the one that cinched at the waist and made my legs look longer. It wasn’t me, not really, but that was the point. I wanted to be someone he might notice.
By the time I had gotten to the quad, my heart was a steady drumbeat in my chest. I picked the bench with the best view of the door, crossed my legs, and opened a book I wasn’t actually reading. I tilted my chin up just enough to catch the light, pretending the sun felt good on my face, pretending I belonged there. Every few minutes, I turned a page I hadn’t read, trying to look casual while sneaking glances from the corner of my eye, waiting for him to walk out and finally see me.
He didn’t. He walked right past me, not even a flicker of interest, not one look.
And as the days slipped by, I was starting to hate myself for ever thinking he might.
A few yards ahead, a girl stepped out from the path leading to the library. Lane. I knew her from his classes. She always raised her hand and always laughed too loudly at something one of the guys said. She called his name flirtatiously and hurried toward him.
He stopped when she reached him, shifting his weight like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to stay. When she touched his shoulder, his whole body went rigid. It was subtle, but I saw it. He didn’t lean closer or smile; he just listened for a second, nodded once, and kept walking. She lingered for a moment, like she was waiting for him to turn around, but he didn’t.
I shouldn’t have felt good about that—but I did. The tightness in my chest loosened just a little, and something hot and trembling uncoiled inside me, a pulse of satisfaction I didn’t want to name. He hadn’t liked her touch. He hadn’t smiled at her the way he smiled at his teammates.
Just as I was about to keep following him, he looked over his shoulder. My breath caught mid-step. For a split second, our eyes almost met…or at least I thought they did. He smiled, and I froze, every nerve lighting up with the wild, dizzy thought that maybe he saw me. Maybe hefinallysaw me.
But then Parker walked past me, his dark hair gleaming in the sunlight, tall and golden in that effortless, all-American way that made everyone turn their heads when he walked by. His beautiful girlfriend, Casey, followed a step behind, her long black hair catching the light as she leaned into him. Parker’s arm slid around her waist, pulling her close, and Matty’s smile widened as he said something that made them both laugh.
The smile was for them.
The realization hit like a punch to the ribs. My chest hollowed, the air going thin as the warmth that had flooded me seconds before drained out completely. I felt stupid for thinking it, for letting myself believe even for a heartbeat that he’d beenlooking at me. My throat burned as the crowd flowed around me, students cutting through the quad, laughter and voices washing over me while I stood there, rooted in place. I couldn’t make myself follow anymore. My legs wouldn’t move.
