9. Eli
CHAPTER 9
ELI
Heat simmered beneath my skin, irritation curling tight in my chest. I wasn’t mad, not really. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.
Niall wanted to be a grumpy, hot-and-cold mystery? Fine. Good for him. I wasn’t about to waste my time trying to figure him out.
Still, the conversation lingered, replaying in my head as I walked away. I hadn’t wanted to call him out like that. It wasn’t my style. I didn’t like unnecessary strife, so I tried to keep open lines of communication with my friends. But if Niall and I were going to be stuck living together, I needed at least a baseline of consistency. If that made me the bad guy, so be it.
Over this past year, I’d been through enough emotional back-and-forth and gaslighting. I deserved to have a fresh start without drama. Without wondering which roommate I’d be living with each day—slightly more talkative Niall, or ‘ Iron Wall ’ Niall, who lived up to his name of keeping people out?
Should I have flown off the handle? Probably not, but I wouldn’t let myself be walked all over again. And while Niall didn’t know what went down back in L.A., it’s not like he’d given us the opportunity to get to know one another better. But still, there was really no excuse for me to go off on him like I did.
Needing some time to myself, I shot Asher and Gigi a quick group text— Got some stuff to do. Meet you at the café in thirty. Then, instead of heading straight there, I veered off toward the quieter side of campus.
The fresh air helped. A little.
Golden light filtered through the trees lining the path, stretching shadows across the stone benches and ivy-covered walls. The breeze carried the crisp scent of fallen leaves, and somewhere in the distance, a fountain bubbled steadily. I let my feet carry me toward it, drawn to the way the afternoon sunlight shimmered on the water’s surface.
My fingers twitched against my phone.
It started as a casual thing—snapping random shots on my phone, mostly for fun. A cool shadow pattern on the pavement. The way the sky deepened to violet just before sunset. But lately, I’d been paying more attention. Thinking about angles. Framing. Light. I wasn’t calling myself a photographer or anything, but I could see myself getting more into it.
I lifted my phone, adjusting the focus as the late afternoon sun filtered through the trees, casting dappled light over the fountain’s rippling surface. A duck drifted lazily across the water, sending soft waves through the reflection of green and gold leaves. I hesitated, waiting for the right moment, then tapped the shutter button.
The click felt satisfying. Like pressing pause on a fleeting moment. I exhaled, only then realizing how tightly wound I’d been.
By the time I made it to the café, my mood had evened out. Mostly.
I stepped inside, the warmth and rich scent of coffee wrapping around me, and spotted Asher and Gigi already claiming a table.
By the time I reached the table, Gigi had settled beside Asher, her tote bag slung onto the table in typical Gigi fashion. She looked up at me and smirked. “You look like you realized you’re in love with your barista, but they spelled your name wrong and shattered the fantasy.” She paused, tilting her head. “No, wait, that’s me.”
A laugh slipped out. Trust Gigi to get one out of me even when I felt like crap.
I let out a breath, shaking my head. “It’s nothing.”
Asher raised an eyebrow. “That’s a lie.”
“Yeah, we don’t do lies here,” Gigi added, stirring sugar into her coffee like she was plotting something. “Spill.”
I hesitated, but the words slipped out before I could stop them. “It’s Niall.”
They exchanged a look—one of those silent conversations friends have when they already know exactly what’s coming.
“What’d the hockey god do now?” Asher asked, leaning forward like this was the highlight of his day.
“Nothing,” I muttered, tearing open a sugar packet just to give my hands something to do.
“Hmph! Nothing?” Gigi took a sip of her coffee.
“Okay, it’s not nothing,” I conceded. “The problem is one minute, he’s tolerating me. The next, he’s acting like I don’t exist.”
Asher snorted. “That sounds like a ‘ him ’ problem.”
Gigi hummed in agreement, tapping her nails against her cup. “Oh, definitely. Some people are just emotionally constipated. Maybe he needs, like, an emotional prune juice or something.”
I huffed out a laugh. “You’re both useless.”
“Hey, hey,” Asher held up his hands. “Useless? Or incredibly wise? Because what I’m hearing is: you moved across the country for a fresh start, and instead of embracing the new and exciting, you’re letting some six-foot-something hockey dude take up premium brain real estate.”
Gigi nodded sagely. “Tragic, really.”
I shot them both a glare, but they weren’t wrong. Niall wasn’t my problem. I had school to focus on, new friends to make, and an entire life to build outside of whatever weird back-and-forth thing he had going on.
I had no intention of wasting my time on someone who clearly didn’t want me in his orbit. Like I’d told him, I didn’t need to be best friends, but I didn’t need whiplash, either.
Didn’t mean I wouldn’t notice when he was around, though.
By the time I got back to the apartment, the sky had darkened to a deep navy, the crisp evening air a stark contrast to the warmth inside. I peeled off my hoodie, toed off my sneakers by the door, and went straight for the shower. Hot water beat down on my shoulders, loosening the tension I hadn’t realized I was carrying. By the time I stepped out, wrapped in a towel and rubbing my hair dry, I felt marginally better. Not completely, but enough.
A quick search through the fridge led to a sad realization—grocery shopping was definitely in my future. I grabbed a protein bar and an apple. Not exactly a feast, but enough to hold me over. Then, flopping onto my bed, I cracked open one of my business textbooks, determined to be productive.
Five minutes later, I was staring at the same sentence, the words blurring together.
I sighed, flopping back against my pillows, phone in hand, before I could even think twice. A few taps later, Cheyenne’s face filled the screen.
“Wow,” she deadpanned, flipping her blonde curls over one shoulder. “Michigan has not been kind to you.”
I snorted. “Good to see you too, Chey.”
She was lounging on her bed in her Crescent Hills dorm, wearing one of my old hoodies—one she’d claimed as hers years ago. Her deep brown eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was warmth there too, the kind that made my chest unclench a little.
“So?” she prompted, raising a perfectly arched brow. “How’s my favorite little brother holding up?”
“You mean your only little brother?”
“You’re still my favorite.”
I rolled my eyes, but my lips twitched. “I’m good. Settling in.”
Cheyenne narrowed her eyes. “Liar.”
I huffed out a laugh. “Fine. It’s been... an adjustment.”
She hummed knowingly. “Roommate troubles?”
I hesitated, then sighed. “He’s... something else. Grumpy. Hot and cold. Half the time, it’s like I don’t exist, and the other half, he’s pissed off about something I don’t even get. One day, he’ll be talking to me like we’re starting to be friends, and the next, I’m gum on the bottom of his shoe.”
Cheyenne smirked. “Sounds like a man after my own heart.”
“Gross.”
She cackled, then sobered slightly. “Seriously, though. Do you want me to send a strongly worded email on your behalf? Maybe a passive-aggressive care package?”
I snorted. “What would that even include?”
“Oh, you know. A mug that says ‘ World’s Okayest Roommate .’ A teddy bear wearing a ‘ Chill Out ’ T-shirt. A laminated list of ways to not be a raging asshole.”
I laughed, the knot in my chest easing a little. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good. And if he gets too bad, just start playing sad indie music at full volume. Works every time.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll go over great.”
Cheyenne grinned. “Hey, what are sisters for?”
We talked for a bit longer, about school, about Crescent Hills gossip, about how our parents were probably off somewhere sipping overpriced wine on their Mediterranean cruise. Eventually, though, I yawned mid-sentence, and Cheyenne gave me a pointed look.
“Go to sleep, you idiot.”
“I will.”
“Liar,” she muttered, then smirked. “Text me if you need me, okay?”
“I will.” And that time, I meant it.
After we hung up, I scrolled through my camera roll, sifting through the pictures I’d taken earlier. Finally, I selected two—one of the fountains with the first hints of yellow in the leaves reflected in the water and another of the sunlight filtering through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the grass.
The caption was ‘ New scenery, new perspective. ’
I hit Post.
Almost immediately, a notification popped up—someone had liked my post.
I tapped the screen, not thinking much of it. But then my stomach tightened.
A thought hit me, and I decided to check my other posts with the photos I’d taken over the past few days.
The same person had liked those last few pictures too. I hadn’t noticed before.
My following wasn’t huge. I’d never really cared about keeping up with social media before—pre-Chase, I’d been too busy living in the moment. And during Chase… well, that was complicated.
Now, I was trying to get back into it, trying to share pieces of my life again. Maybe that’s why I noticed. Why the pattern stood out.
A single like shouldn’t mean anything. But the more I stared at the name, the more unsettled I felt.