45 sociology of disaster
Nola and Peyton's dorm always feels like controlled chaos.
Not dirty exactly, just aggressively lived in.
There are blankets everywhere, fairy lights hanging unevenly across the ceiling, three empty takeout containers on Peyton's desk, and approximately six different drinks sitting around the room with nobody claiming ownership of any of them.
Peyton is cross-legged on her bed with her laptop balanced on one knee looking personally victimized by academia.
"Sociology papers are propaganda," she announces.
Nola doesn't even glance up from where she's reorganizing her desk for the fourth time in ten minutes. "You literally chose that major."
"Yes, because I'm brave."
"You're dramatic."
"I'm intellectual," Peyton corrects. Then she points at me and Nola accusingly. "At least my degree acknowledges society exists. You psych majors think every problem can be solved with childhood trauma and breathing exercises."
"Most problems can," Nola says.
Peyton scoffs loudly. "Sociology is just psychology with better politics."
I snort into my soda.
Nola finally turns around. "That sentence genuinely made me nauseous."
"Because I'm right."
"You're insufferable."
"And yet beloved."
The room falls back into comfortable noise after that.
Peyton typing aggressively.
Nola pacing for absolutely no reason.
Me curled into the corner of Peyton's bed pretending I'm watching some reality dating show while mostly just thinking.
About Jackson.
Again.
Which is becoming a real problem.
It's Tuesday night now, two days after Thanksgiving break ended, and somehow things between us feel softer lately.
Not fixed.
Definitely not defined.
But softer.
We've fallen back into talking easier again. Texting. Teasing each other in hallways. Existing around each other without that horrible tension constantly choking the air between us.
And apparently that change is visible.
Because Peyton suddenly narrows her eyes at me from across the room. "Oh my God."
I look up warily. "What?"
"You've emotionally moisturized recently."
I immediately throw a pillow at her head.
She catches it without effort.
Nola points at me dramatically. "See? Guilty reaction."
"You two are unbelievable."
"You're happier," Peyton says simply.
That shuts me up for half a second.
Because annoyingly?
She's right.
I hate that she's right.
Nola grins suddenly. "You smiled at your phone earlier."
"I smile at lots of things."
"Not like that," Peyton says.
I narrow my eyes. "You people study human behavior way too much."
"That is literally our education."
Before I can respond, there's a knock on the door.
Nola freezes.
Actually freezes, like fully stops moving mid-step.
Peyton and I exchange identical looks.
"Oh my God," Peyton whispers. "She's short-circuiting again."
Nola points at us threateningly. "Nobody say anything weird."
"You saying that guarantees something weird happens," I tell her.
Nola ignores me and opens the door.
Yasmine's standing there in an oversized dark green sweater with snow melted into the ends of her curls from outside.
And immediately the entire atmosphere changes.
It's subtle, but it's there instantly.
The way Nola smiles automatically.
The way Yasmine reaches out and touches Nola's wrist for half a second walking inside.
The way they look at each other like they're already sharing a conversation nobody else can hear.
It's disgustingly adorable.
"Hi," Yasmine says.
Nola looks like she forgot how language works.
"Hey."
Peyton mutters beside me, "Oh, she's gone."
"I can hear you," Nola says weakly.
Yasmine laughs quietly and drops onto the floor beside Nola's bed while Peyton immediately starts interrogating her about a professor they apparently mutually hate.
I mostly sit there watching.
Watching Nola malfunction every time Yasmine casually touches her arm.
Watching Yasmine smile every time Nola rambles herself into embarrassment.
Watching how easy this suddenly seems between them.
And maybe that's why my chest starts hurting a little.
Because Jackson tried too.
That's the thing I can't stop thinking about lately.
He got scared.
He hurt me.
But he still came back anyway.
Still tried.
Even when it clearly terrified him.
Nola's laughing at something Yasmine says when Peyton suddenly kicks my foot lightly. "You're zoning out again."
I blink. "Sorry."
"Jackson?" she asks immediately.
I hate how fast she guessed that.
Yasmine looks between us curiously while Nola groans. "Oh my God, not you too."
"What?" Yasmine asks.
"Everyone's becoming emotionally stable except me," Nola says dramatically.
"You cried because Yasmine used two exclamation marks in a text."
"That was a vulnerable moment."
Yasmine laughs so hard she nearly falls sideways into Nola.
Nola looks seconds away from cardiac arrest.
This continues for another hour.
Movies half-playing in the background.
Peyton loudly judging contestants on reality TV.
Nola getting progressively more nervous every time Yasmine smiles at her.
And then eventually Yasmine stands up to leave.
"I should probably go before my roommate reports me missing."
Nola immediately looks devastated. Which would maybe be less obvious if she didn't accidentally say, "Oh."
Yasmine smiles softly at her. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Nola nods too fast.
Then Yasmine reaches for her coat.
And suddenly Nola blurts, "Wait."
The entire room goes silent.
Nola looks horrified immediately after speaking.
Yasmine pauses.
Nola stares at her for one full second before the words come spilling out all at once. "I actually really like you."
Dead silence.
Absolute dead silence.
Nola's face goes fully red instantly.
"I'm so sorry," she says immediately after.
Peyton chokes violently beside me.
"I don't know why I said that."
"Oh my God," Peyton whispers.
"I'm moving to another country," Nola continues rapidly. "Actually maybe several countries."
I bury my face in a blanket trying not to laugh.
Yasmine just stares at her for a second, then she starts laughing softly.
Not mean.
Just fond.
Warm.
And before Nola can spiral harder, Yasmine steps closer and kisses her cheek gently.
Nola completely stops functioning, like genuinely.
Her brain visibly leaves her body.
Yasmine smiles at her softly.
"Good," she says quietly. "Because you're my favorite person."
Peyton SCREAMS.
Actually screams.
Nola looks moments away from fainting.
"Oh my God," Peyton yells, throwing herself backward onto the bed dramatically. "THE LESBIANS WON."
"Peyton," Nola wheezes.
"No, let me have this."
Yasmine's laughing now too, cheeks pink while Nola just stands there blinking like her soul temporarily disconnected from reality.
And weirdly-
watching this hurts a little.
Not in a bad way.
Just...
honestly.
Because Nola was terrified.
I know she was.
But she chose honesty anyway.
Over fear.
Over uncertainty.
Over the possibility of getting hurt.
And suddenly all I can think about is Jackson standing in the hallway outside our dorm room weeks ago admitting he loved me even though it clearly scared the hell out of him.
He tried anyway.
My chest tightens painfully. Peyton notices immediately.
"There she goes again," she says knowingly.
I look up slowly.
Nola's still being emotionally resuscitated by Yasmine across the room while Peyton watches me carefully.
And before I can stop myself, the words just come out quietly. "I think I need to tell him."
Peyton's expression softens instantly.
Nola looks over too.
Neither of them even asks who.
They already know.
Fear curls sharply in my stomach immediately afterward. Because saying it out loud suddenly makes it real.
"What if it ruins everything again?" I ask quietly.
Nola stares at me for a second before saying softly, "What if it fixes it?"
That hits harder than I expect.
The room falls quiet after that.
Yasmine eventually pulls Nola down beside her on the bed while Peyton restarts the show nobody's actually watching anymore.
But my brain's already somewhere else entirely.
Brown hair.
Blue eyes.
Jackson smiling at me in the hallway Sunday night like seeing me physically relieved something inside him.
I stand up before I can overthink it.
Peyton immediately narrows her eyes. "Oh my God."
Nola sits upright instantly. "Wait. Right now?"
I grab my coat from the chair.
My pulse is suddenly going way too fast.
"Everly Coleman," Peyton says dramatically, "if you're about to do something reckless, I need at least ten minutes notice."
I laugh nervously pulling my sleeves over my hands.
"Honestly?" I admit. "I think I'm way past reckless already."
And before I can lose my nerve-
I leave.