Chapter 2 #2
Jaden waves from across the quad. He’s a few inches shorter than me, with a head full of dark curls and an eyebrow piercing that glints in the sun.
He’s wearing another distressed band tee—this one tight enough to hug his flat stomach.
I fight the urge to tug my shirt away from my torso, suddenly aware of those extra pounds I’ve put on since I stopped playing football.
Jaden jogs closer with that same confidence Dmitri has.
His is softer around the edges, where Dmitri’s energy can be intense sometimes.
They’ve been casually seeing each other for a couple months now, even if it’s nothing serious…
at least from what Dmitri’s said in passing.
He claims they’re just hanging out, and that there are no labels.
Jaden reaches us, smiling wide. “There you are. I’ve been texting you.”
Dmitri checks his phone with a wince. “Shit, sorry. I never took it off silent after class.”
“No worries.” Jaden glances at me with a polite nod. “Hey, Eric.”
“Hey.” I nod back, forcing my smile to stay even.
Jaden turns to Dmitri, voice dropping a notch. “You still good for tonight? I got us on the list for that pop-up at The Basement and thought we could grab dinner first.”
Dmitri hesitates. It’s just half a second, but I catch it. He looks at me with something unreadable on his face, then smiles back at Jaden. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Just let me finish walking Eric back toward the dorm path.”
“I’m fine,” I interrupt, a rush of something hot burning low in my stomach.
Jaden glances at me, and a flicker of annoyance crosses his face before he turns to Dmitri again. “I’ll wait by the fountain. Take your time.”
He steps back to give us space, and Dmitri turns to me, expression softening. He opens his mouth like he might say something, then closes it again before offering a cautious smile. “Guess that’s my cue,” he says quietly.
“Yeah.” I swallow. “Have fun tonight.”
“I’ll text you after.” He bumps my shoulder one last time, lighter than before. “Don’t bomb that exam because you’re overthinking. You’ve got this.”
I laugh, but it feels forced. “I’ll try.”
He lingers for a beat, eyes searching mine like he’s checking for something. Then he nods, turns, and walks toward Jaden. They fall into step together, Jaden’s hand brushing Dmitri’s elbow as they head toward the parking lot.
I stand there a moment longer, coffee sweating in my hand as they disappear around the corner. The quad noise rushes back in, but it all feels farther away. My chest holds that tight, unfamiliar ache again, the one that’s been showing up more often lately.
Not jealousy, exactly.
Not anger.
Just… something. Like I’ve been holding my breath around him for two years and only now noticed the air’s getting thinner.
I turn toward my dorm, walking slower than usual and pausing at the fork in the path where Dmitri always leaves me. He’s never once walked me to my building or come inside my dorm. Hell, I don’t even think he knows where I live.
I’ve always wanted to ask him why.
The sun is dipping lower on the horizon, casting long shadows across the grass as I approach my building. I stop to soak in the warmth for a few more moments, and pull out my phone. A new text alert pops up, and I click it so fast, I don’t even catch who it’s from.
Disappointment hits me hard and fast when it’s only a reminder about tomorrow’s exam, even though I know I shouldn’t expect to hear from Dmitri this soon. He’s with Jaden, and he probably already has him tucked under his arm. They’re already chatting and laughing about something private.
Something I’m not part of.
I climb the stairs to the third floor and escape into my dorm, then close the door behind me as my nervous energy makes me pace the room.
I check my phone again like a damn junkie, scrolling through our long text message chain until I find the last selfie he sent me.
He’s smiling broadly, pointing at the newest sticker he added to his keyboard case.
My weird mood settles and I smile back at the still image of him, but then I imagine him giving that same smile to Jaden in the corner of some restaurant, or while they dance under the dim lights of the show.
I drop onto the edge of my bed with my elbows on my knees, staring at the floor like it might give me a straight answer.
The image keeps replaying: Dmitri’s hand on Jaden’s lower back, the way he’d lean in to murmur something funny, and how Jaden would tip his head back and laugh in his loud, tinkling way.
The same genuine laugh Dmitri usually pulls out of me on a good day.
Except this time it’s not me.
My stomach twists, and I press the heel of my hand against it like I can shove the feeling back where it came from. It’s not jealousy. It can’t be. We’re friends. Best friends. That doesn’t turn into… whatever this is supposed to be, just because he’s out with someone else.
Right?
But the thought of him smiling that private, sideways smile at Jaden instead of me makes my throat tighten.
The image of his arm slung casually around Jaden’s shoulders, of Jaden knowing what his laugh sounds like up close, of Jaden getting the version of Dmitri I’ve always thought was…
well, mine in some stupid, unspoken way—
I freeze.
Mine?
The word echoes in my head like a wrong note. Too loud, too wrong.
No.
That’s not how you think about a friend.
That’s not normal.
Friends don’t feel their chest cave in at the idea of someone else getting the pieces they’ve always claimed without ever saying it out loud.
Friends don’t notice the way his eyes crinkle when he’s really happy, or the way his voice drops when he’s tired, or the way his hands flex as they tap rhythms against the tabletop.
I drag a hand through my hair, tugging hard enough to hurt as I try to shake the thought loose. It’s just… protectiveness. Or habit. Or the fact that he’s been my constant for two years and the idea of someone else sliding into that space feels off.
It’s temporary weirdness. That’s all.
Except right now, it doesn’t feel temporary.
It feels like it’s been waiting for me to notice it.
I stare at the closed door, pulse loud in my ears.
This isn’t… I mean, I’m not…
Am I?
The question sits there, small and terrifying, and refuses to disappear.
I wait for the usual denial to rush in and smother it, but it only half-comes.
The rest of me is too busy remembering the exact shade of his eyes when he smiles just for me.
It’s fighting every instinct that screams otherwise, trying to figure out why it hurts so much to picture him smiling that way at someone else.
I glance at my phone like I might will it to ring, fighting this sinking realization that he’s so wrapped up in his date he isn't even thinking of me. He’s there, and I’m here, wondering if he secretly wishes I would disappear so he could focus on what actually matters.
I press my palms to my eyes until I see spots.
It’s nothing.
It has to be nothing.