louder than it should in my head. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the way my thoughts kept looping back to him, n

oy

his strange pull. I

out him after that night. But I'd w

t even

d pretend it didn't matter, and I wasn't curious about the way his smile seemed to have two meani

cing off the walls, the smell of coffee and cheap cologne mixing in the air. I tucked a stra

hree doors dow

f voices growing louder fr

their warm-ups, with their towels draped over their shoulders. He was at the center of it, tal

picked

r, but the universe c

everything else went quiet, the chatter, the footsteps, even the air felt lik

pped my gaze, gripping my books tighter against my chest, pretending

oat fe

pped inside and pressed my back against it for a second, heart thudding against my ribs as I'd jus

Nyelle. He'

nfident guy who could make a si

he lecture that was about to start. Professor Hensley's voice filled the room. I tried to keep up, scribb

wn the page when my phone

ut during lectures. Still, my hand sli

oy

d across the sc

at fast, or were y

ed straight in

ome pretending to listen, some scrolling through God-knows-what. I

n't r

ee seconds for the

ooked

oice. That easy confidence that always made m

out "symbolic contrasts in post-war literature." I wrote down co

e buzze

s this quiet

humb hovering

didn't have a

believ

irl beside me glance my way. I coughed to cover it up, pretending to reread

faded in and out as I

d to text people i

upposed to r

hand, trying to hide the

the weight of meaning in silence, how sometimes what isn't said

hard

ed, my th

u're a

times. He

en, even though a shi

s your plan

aced at the implication that he might actually want t

n't r

hing coherent for the last forty-five minutes. All I saw were

, I didn't care ab

world had jerked forward. My bag was on my shoulder before I realized it, books clutche