Chapter 3

3

By early December, I started pulling away on purpose.

When he messaged me, I’d wait hours to reply. He’d ask, “What took so long?” and I’d claim I was busy with finals.

I wasn't busy. I was trying to see if I could break the habit of waiting for him.

I tried for seven days.

I failed.

On the eighth night, he didn't message at all.

I stared at his profile for thirty minutes, my mind racing. Did he find out? Was he bored? Did Celine hire someone else?

At 1:00 AM, a voice note came through.

“You awake? I’m having a rough night.”

I replied instantly: “What happened?”

“My dad’s company is having some issues. My mom wants me to take over right after graduation.”

“You don't want to?”

“No.” A pause, then another message. “I only tell you this. Everyone else thinks I have it perfect. They don't think I have problems.”

I read those words and pulled the blanket over my head.

He wasn't a cold, untouchable god. He was just a young guy who didn't know how to show weakness in public.

And I couldn't even ask to see him.

The next day, I deleted a half-written message and decided to move on.

While I was getting lunch, someone tapped me on the shoulder.

“Hey, could I borrow your meal card? I forgot mine.”

I turned around. A tall guy was standing behind me in a varsity basketball jacket. He had a friendly smile and messy hair.

“Who are you?”

“Tristan Hart. I’ve been behind you in line, and I just realized I’m broke today.”

I swiped for him. After he got his tray, he sat down next to me.

“You’re Josie Quinn from the English department, right?”

“How do you know that?”

“The debate tournament last semester.” He took a bite of a rib. “You were the third speaker. You completely shut down my teammate. I was impressed.”

I remembered now. We had won that round, but I had been too busy looking for Jensen in the audience to care.

“Your team won the whole thing,” he said.

“It was luck.”

“Don't be modest.” He looked at me. “I still remember your closing argument. You quoted Wittgenstein about the limits of language. It was brilliant.”

My fork paused.

Tristan grinned. “I’m a Philosophy minor.”

After that, Tristan started showing up everywhere.

It didn't feel forced. He’d just sit with me at lunch, or hand me a water bottle in the library. He’d wave from the court and yell, “Hey, Josie!”

One day, I was cornered behind the lecture hall by two of Celine’s friends―Sienna and Lexi.

Sienna looked me up and down. “Josie, don't you think you’re hanging around Jensen a bit too much lately?”

“I’m not.”

“Really?” Lexi rolled her eyes. “You were standing by the water fountain for ten minutes last Wednesday. You think nobody noticed?”

“I was waiting for the water to chill.”

“Waiting?” Sienna stepped forward. “I don't care what you’re doing. Celine is our friend. Stay away from Jensen. Got it?”

She gave me a shove. It wasn't hard, but my bag spilled all over the pavement.

I knelt down to pick up my things. A pen rolled a few feet away.

Someone picked it up before I could reach it.

Tristan handed me the pen and then stood tall, facing the two girls.

“Is there a problem here?”

His voice was calm, but his height made him intimidating.

Sienna stepped back. “No... no problem.”

“Then get lost. Don't go looking for trouble.”

The girls exchanged a look and scurried away.

Tristan helped me up. His hand was large and warm.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are those Celine’s friends?”

“Yeah.”

He didn't ask questions. He just helped me wipe the dust off my books.

As we walked back, he said, “Josie, you have this vibe about you.”

“What vibe?”

“The vibe of someone who could totally fight back but chooses not to.”

I laughed. It was my first real laugh in months.

“I’m not that tough.”

“You are.” He handed me my books. “If you ever decide you’re done holding back, let me know. I’ve got your back.”

I took the books and didn't say a word.

Before I could walk away, he called out.

“By the way―there’s a debate semi-final this weekend. You coming?”

“Why would I?”

“To watch me.” He gave me a cocky grin. “I’m the third speaker this time. I’ll show you how a real closing argument is done.”

I nodded.

That night, Jensen asked me a question on the app.

“Do you think a guy could fall for a girl’s mind and ignore what’s on the outside?”

My heart hammered against my ribs.

“Where is this coming from?”

“Just wondering.”

“I think so,” I replied.

“Good.”

I stared at that “Good” for a long time. Did he mean he didn't care about Celine’s looks anymore? Or was he starting to suspect that the girl on the phone wasn't her?

I wanted to ask, but I didn't dare.

I simply replied: “Go to sleep.”

Jensen: “Goodnight, Cee.”

I turned off the screen.

I lay in the dark for a long time.