Kai watches the smile for a beat longer than necessary, something thoughtful flickering behind his eyes. Then he nods and leaves with the kind of careful restraint that feels like a promise he’s trying to keep.
As I go about my day, I start to notice that the campus feels…different.
Not quieter—PCU is never quiet—but less sharp around the edges, like my nervous system has turned the volume down just enough that I can hear myself think without drowning in it.
I make it through class. I take notes. I answer a question once without my voice catching, and the tiny victory settles warm in my chest.
Progress.
By late afternoon, the sky has turned that pale, washed-out blue that means evening is settling in. I step out of my last class and inhale slowly, letting the cool air ground me.
My phone buzzes, and I pull it out, smiling instantly.
Unknown Number: hey, it’s grayson. you make it to your dorm okay?
Warmth spreads through my chest so fast it almost startles me. I quickly addGrayas his contact name to save time, but then realize I like the way it sounds better.
Harlow: Yes, I did. What’s up with you?
Gray: still wired. weston won’t shut up and refuses to go home.
A laugh slips out of me, quiet and surprised.
Harlow: Make him.
Gray: tried. he’s unstoppable.
A beat.
Gray: having a good day?
I honestly love how he checks in with me without seeming overbearing. It shows that he cares, both about the big things and the smaller ones too.
Harlow: Better than yesterday.
His reply comes fast.
Gray: good. want to go for a walk? I enjoyed our last one.
My heart stutters. I stop moving, pulse suddenly too aware of itself.
Harlow: Sure.
Gray: coffee shop. give me an hour?
Harlow: See you then.
I stare at the screen longer than necessary, then tuck my phone away like it’s something fragile.
When Grayson appears at the end of the sidewalk, my chest squeezes so hard I almost lose my breath. He’s in sweats and a hoodie, hands shoved into his pockets, hair damp like he just showered, which explains why he needed an hour.
He spots me and slows, like he’s careful not to bring too much energy too fast.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey.”
We stand there for a beat, and the silence isn’t awkward so much as charged—like the air remembers the hallway after the game and remembers how close we were before Kai’s voice cut in.
