“Ready to go?” Piper asks.
“Yeah,” I say, meaning more than just lunch. “I’m ready.”
Our hands find each other automatically now, no hesitation.
24
PIPER
“Trust me,” Ethan says, tugging me away from the main campus path. “When’s the last time you did something just because?”
“I do things just because,” I protest, but I’m already following him.
We’ve just finished a particularly successful tutoring session where he helped me with my next assignment. My grades have been getting better and I have to admit that he’s a damn good storyteller.
It’s not as weird as I thought it would be, going back to tutoring after the weekend where we decided to date officially. Tuesday afternoon, our regular time, but everything feels different now. The way he casually touched my hand while explaining narrative beats. How he tucked my hair behind my ear when it fell in my face.
I find myself looking forward to tutoring for entirely new reasons.
“Name one spontaneous thing,” he challenges.
“I... reorganized my code folders bycolor last week.”
He stops walking to stare at me. “That’s not spontaneous, Pip. That’s procrastination with a system.”
We’re heading toward the older part of campus, where ivy-covered buildings give way to walking trails. Spring is finally winning against winter—crocuses pushing through dead leaves, sun warming the paths. Ethan’s taken my hand in his, practically vibrating with energy.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see. Sometimes the best inspiration happens away from screens.” He grins back at me. “Plus, we’ve been sitting for ages. You need air.”
“I need to finish my distributed systems assignment.”
“It’s not due until Monday.”
“Exactly. Only five days to?—”
“Piper.” He stops, turns to face me fully. “When’s the last time you just... had fun?”
The question catches me off guard. Fun. When did I stop prioritizing that?
We take the trail that winds behind the athletics complex, past the greenhouse, toward the hills. I know this path. My feet know every root, every turn, even after months of avoiding it.
My steps slow as we approach the fork in the trail.
“Actually,” I say, stomach twisting, “maybe we should head back.”
“Why?” Ethan looks at me curiously. “You okay?”
I stare at the left path—the one that leads to the old oak grove with the bench overlooking the valley. The spot where Miles and I spent countless hours freshman and sophomore years. Our spot.
Where things happened that I’ve never told anyone about.
“I just... I used to come here a lot. With someone.” The half-truth tastes bitter.
Understanding dawns on his face. “Miles?”
I nod, hating how my chest tightens. “It’s stupid. It’s just a place.”
