Bennett Got His Girl

35 confession culture

Peyton and Nola's dorm room looks like a crime scene.

There are open takeout containers covering both desks, one of Peyton's hoodies hanging halfway off the ceiling fan for reasons I don't even want explained, and Nola's phone charger stretched across the room like a tripwire waiting to kill somebody.

So...

Normal.

Peyton's laying upside down across her bed scrolling on her phone while reality TV plays quietly in the background, and Nola's pacing near the window with her phone clutched in both hands like she's negotiating international peace treaties instead of texting a girl.

"You guys don't understand," she says dramatically. "This is psychologically damaging."

I steal another fry from the carton between me and Peyton. "You've said that six times."

"Because it continues being true."

Peyton doesn't even glance up from her phone. "Did she text you back yet or are we still in pre-breakdown stages?"

Nola stops pacing long enough to glare at both of us. "I hate you."

"Answer the question," Peyton says.

Nola presses her phone dramatically against her chest. "She asked me if I wanted to get coffee. Alone."

There's a beat of silence, then Peyton slowly lowers her phone.

"She asked you on a date," she says flatly.

Nola looks horrified. "Don't say it like that."

"How else would I say it?"

"Less aggressively."

I laugh before I can stop myself, and Nola points at me accusingly. "You're supposed to be on my side."

"I am on your side," I say, still laughing a little. "Your side is just objectively losing its mind right now."

"She used a smiley face."

Peyton snorts. "Jesus Christ."

"No, but like- a real one," Nola insists. "Not the weird passive aggressive smiley face people use when they secretly hate you."

"You have got to stop reading FBI-level psychological profiles into punctuation."

Nola ignores me completely, already pacing again.

"I can't tell if she means date coffee or friend coffee."

Peyton sits up slightly. "Nola. She already gave you her number after Everly publicly announced your crush to half the psych department."

"That was not public."

"It was public enough."

I grin into my drink while Nola groans loudly.

"You guys are being deeply unsupportive."

"We're being correct," Peyton says.

Nola finally collapses dramatically onto the floor between our beds, staring up at the ceiling like she's awaiting divine intervention.

Then her phone buzzes.

All three of us freeze.

Nola looks down at the screen and her entire face changes instantly. "Oh my God."

Peyton lunges upright. "What?"

Nola just stares at the phone in horror.

I grab the pillow beside me and throw it at her.

"Nola."

"She said," Nola says weakly, " 'I think you're really cute by the way.' "

Peyton immediately screams.

I nearly choke on my drink laughing while Nola folds forward like she's physically dying.

"Oh my God," she says into the carpet. "I'm moving countries."

Peyton crawls across the bed toward her like an overly aggressive life coach. "No, absolutely not. You are texting her back right now."

"I can't."

"You can."

"I literally can't breathe."

"You're breathing enough to complain."

Nola lifts her head enough to look at me desperately. "Everly, help me."

I hold my hands up immediately. "No chance. Peyton's right."

"Traitor."

"You've liked her for weeks."

"That doesn't mean I'm emotionally prepared."

Peyton grabs one of the throw pillows and smacks her with it. "TEXT THE GIRL."

Nola groans loudly before finally unlocking her phone again. "What do I even say?"

"The truth," Peyton says immediately.

Nola stares at the screen for another few seconds before typing something, deleting it, typing again, deleting it again.

Then finally, "Oh my God."

"What?"

"I said I like her too."

Peyton grabs my arm hard enough to hurt. "THIS IS BETTER THAN TELEVISION."

Nola throws herself backward onto the carpet again. "I'm actually going to throw up."

I laugh harder than I have in days watching her completely spiral, and for a little while, everything feels lighter again.

Not fixed, just lighter.

Nola's phone buzzes again less than thirty seconds later.

She looks at it, then immediately covers her face with both hands.

Peyton gasps dramatically. "READ IT OUT LOUD."

"No."

"Nola."

"She said she's been trying to figure out if I liked her back for like a month."

Peyton falls backward onto the bed in victory. "CALLED IT."

I'm still smiling watching Nola completely lose her mind, but somewhere in the middle of all the chaos, my thoughts drift anyway.

Because Nola just said the thing she was terrified to say.

And now she looks happier than I've seen her in weeks.

My smile fades slightly.

Immediately, Peyton notices.

Of course she does. "You're doing the zoning out thing again."

"I'm literally sitting right here."

"Mhm."

Nola lowers her hands from her face enough to squint at me. "You okay?"

"Yep."

Both of them stare at me.

I sigh quietly, leaning back against Peyton's bed.

The room suddenly feels warmer than before. Smaller somehow.

Because all I can think about is Jackson sitting in the dark that night with his voice low and exhausted over the phone.

I think I'm in love with her.

I haven't stopped hearing it since.

And somehow that's worse than before.

Because now I know.

Now I know he meant it.

And we're still barely talking.

Peyton studies me for another second before speaking more carefully this time. "You're thinking about him again."

Not even remotely a question.

I stare down at the fries in my lap. Nola's expression softens immediately.

Neither of them push.

Which honestly makes it worse.

"I think," I say slowly, "I need to tell him I heard the phone call."

The room goes quiet.

Peyton sits up a little straighter. "You haven't told him yet?"

I shake my head once.

Nola frowns slightly. "Why not?"

"Because everything's already messy enough."

"And keeping it secret is less messy?" Peyton asks.

I open my mouth, then close it again.

Because honestly?

No.

Not even a little.

Nola reaches over from the floor and nudges my knee lightly. "You should tell him."

"Maybe."

Peyton snorts. "That means yes."

I roll my eyes, but my chest still feels tight.

Because the second I tell Jackson I heard everything, this stops being avoidable.

And I'm not sure what happens after that.

Later that night, after Peyton falls asleep with her TV still playing quietly and Nola finally stops rereading Yasmine's texts long enough to pass out too, I'm still awake.

My phone glows dimly in the dark.

Jackson's contact sits open on my screen.

I stare at it for a long time without typing a single word.