Chapter 13 — Lena #2
Hannah grinned. “Oh, come on. People saw the shirt thing. Mason posted a story for like five minutes before deleting it. Everyone’s talking.”
Lena’s pulse spiked.
“Mason posted what?” Carter asked.
Too calm.
Hannah pulled out her phone. “It was funny. I think someone screen-recorded it. He was wearing this shirt that said Team Clipboard, and there was, like, a caption about Carter finally getting managed properly.”
The exposed kind.
Carter’s jaw tightened.
“Did he now?” he said.
Hannah seemed oblivious to the shift. “It’s cute. Honestly, I didn’t think Carter did cute.”
One of the lacrosse guys snorted near the counter.
“Hayes does cute when there’s a camera,” he said.
Carter glanced over.
The guy lifted his hands. “What? Just saying.”
Hannah gave a little laugh, then looked at Lena with that bright, gossip-polished expression that made Lena’s skin prickle.
“No, but really, it’s sweet. You two are a thing?”
So casual.
So public.
Her gaze flicked to Carter.
But if she said yes, then it became campus property. It became something people could talk about, label, joke about, turn into shirts.
It became vulnerable in a new way.
“We’re…” Lena started.
Theirs.
But it sounded strange for a coffee shop audience.
“We’re seeing each other,” Carter said gently.
Just stepping in when she faltered.
His voice was easy but firm.
Lena looked at him.
She gave the smallest nod.
His shoulders eased.
Hannah’s smile widened. “Cute. Love that.”
The lacrosse guy at the counter muttered something Lena could not fully hear, but she caught Carter’s name. A laugh. Something about “this week.”
So much progress it made her chest ache.
Hannah waved her fingers. “Anyway, good luck studying. And Lena? I need your econ notes later. Professor Neal lost me at elasticity.”
“Sure,” Lena said, though her voice sounded too stiff to her own ears.
The group settled at a table near the front.
Lena stared at her laptop screen.
The spreadsheet blurred.
Carter said nothing for a moment.
She closed her eyes.
Of all the words.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“I hate when people watch.”
That made her feel worse.
“I didn’t mean to pull my hand away like that,” she said.
Carter looked down at the table, then back at her. “It stung for a second.”
Her stomach dropped.
“But,” he continued, “I figured it wasn’t about me.”
She hated that he was being mature about this.
It made her want to cry and kiss him and throw her planner at Hannah’s table, none of which were reasonable academic responses.
“I’m not embarrassed by you,” Lena said.
His mouth curved faintly. “I hoped not.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
She leaned forward. “Carter.”
His expression softened. “I know you’re not embarrassed by me.”
The certainty in his voice steadied her a little.
“But you are scared,” he added.
The thing he was getting better at seeing.
The careful line between responsible and afraid.
“Yes,” she said.
Just waiting.
“I’m scared because I don’t know how to do this without losing control of it,” she admitted. “And I know that sounds—”
“Like you?” he finished gently.
She looked at him.
“I was going to say ridiculous.”
“I like my version better.”
Almost.
Carter leaned forward, voice low. “We don’t have to perform for them.”
Her eyes stung.
He glanced toward Hannah’s table, then back. “I don’t need a shirt. Or a label shouted across campus. Or some big declaration.”
“But I’m not going to act like you don’t matter to me just because people are watching.”
Carter looked down at his notebook and tapped his pen once against the page.
“I spent a lot of time being whatever version of me got the easiest reaction,” he said. “Flirty, funny, unserious, whatever. I get why people have opinions.”
Lena’s chest tightened.
“I hate that,” she whispered.
His eyes lifted.
“I hate that people think they know you because of that.”
He smiled, but it was small. “I gave them a lot of material.”
“That doesn’t mean they get all of you.”
“No,” he said quietly. “It doesn’t.”
The sudden awareness that Carter Hayes had a history on campus. A reputation. A trail of girls who had laughed too quickly, touched his arm too easily, and maybe believed for a night or a week that they had found the version of him Lena was starting to know.
But once it existed, she could not unthink it.
Carter watched her face change.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Lena.”
Too fast.
His brows drew together.
“I should get to Denise,” she said.
“I thought your meeting was later.”
“It is. I have some follow-ups.”
Not blocking her.
Just standing.
“Talk to me,” he said quietly.
“I’m okay.”
“Your okay or mine?”
That made the fear harder to explain.
“My okay,” she said, but the words were too thin.
Carter’s expression made it clear he did not believe her.
Not in front of Hannah, the lacrosse guys, the barista, and anyone else who might be waiting to turn their feelings into campus entertainment.
He nodded once.
“Can I walk you?”
Lena hugged her tote against her side as they walked away from the coffee shop.
Carter stayed beside her, hands in his hoodie pocket, giving her space.
Carter stopped too.
Students moved around them, voices rising and falling.
“Lena,” he said.
Tired.
Beautiful in that dangerous, unfair way.
“Did I do something?” he asked.
The answer came out fast.
Too fast.
“I mean it. No. You didn’t.”
“I just…” She gripped the strap of her tote. “I didn’t like how that felt.”
He nodded slowly.
“The shirt. The story. People watching. The comments.” She forced herself to look at him. “Your reputation.”
Not exactly.
But something shuttered behind his eyes before he caught it.
“My reputation,” he repeated.
“No. It’s fair.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fair,” he said again, quieter.
Worse.
Like he had already agreed with the worst possible interpretation of himself before she even said it.
“Carter.”
A muscle worked in his jaw.
“I know what people think,” he said. “I know I’ve given them reasons.”
“I know you’re trying.”
She opened her eyes again.
“But I don’t know how to stop wondering if I’m different, or if I just feel different because I’m inside it.”
Except everything suddenly felt fragile.
“I can’t prove that in one coffee date,” Carter said.
“And I don’t want to throw some big speech at you just because you’re scared.”
She looked at him.
He gave a faint, pained smile.
“I’d be good at it.”
“But I think maybe…” He exhaled. “Maybe this is one of those things I have to prove by not running and not pressuring you to believe me before you’re ready.”
Everything.
And fear still sat inside her like a locked door.
“That’s not fair to you,” she whispered.
“Maybe not.” His voice was gentle. “But I’m not perfect either.”
She shook her head. “I don’t need perfect.”
“What do you need?”
Lena looked at him and realized she did not have an easy answer.
Proof that she was not just one more girl in a long line of girls who had believed the smile and missed the warning label.
But she also needed not to punish him for a version of himself he was trying to outgrow.
“I need to go slow,” she said.
“And I need…” She paused. “I need the us part to be ours for a little while. Not secret. Just not a campus joke.”
“And I need you to tell Mason not to post things about me.”
“Absolutely.”
“And if people make comments, I need you not to get yourself suspended defending me.”
His smile grew slightly. “Specific.”
“I saw you against Briarwood.”
“I don’t want to be something people use to get under your skin.”
His face sobered.
“You’re not a thing,” he said.
Angry at the idea.
“You know what I mean,” she said softly.
“I do. But I still hate the wording.”
Carter stepped closer, slowly enough that she could stop him.
She didn’t.
“I’ll talk to Mason,” he said. “No posts. No shirts. No making you feel like your life got turned into team content.”
“And the reputation thing…” He swallowed. “I can’t undo it by telling you I’m different with you.”
Lena’s chest tightened.
“But I can be different,” he said. “Consistently. Until you don’t have to wonder as much.”
She looked at him through the blur in her eyes.
“That sounds like work.”
His smile was soft and a little sad.
“Good thing I’m emotionally improving.”
A shaky laugh escaped her.
“There you are,” he murmured.
She wiped quickly under one eye. “Do not make me cry on campus.”
“I’m trying not to.”
“You are bad at it.”
“I’m new to healthy communication.”
Not assuming.
Just offering.
Lena looked at it.
People might talk.
People probably would talk.
But Carter was standing there with his hand out, asking without asking, letting her choose.
But less than letting go would have.
Carter’s thumb moved once over her knuckles.
“Coffee date still counts?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Studying was questionable.”
“Your highlighting is questionable.”
“My emotional growth was excellent.”
“It was pretty good.”
Lena turned.
Mason stood twenty feet away near the arena path, phone in hand, frozen like a raccoon caught stealing food.
Tank stood beside him, eyes wide.
Of course they had witnessed some portion of this.
Carter’s hand tightened once around hers, then released.
“Stay here,” he said quietly.
“Carter.”
“Not like that.” He looked back at her. “I’m not going to hit him. I’m going to communicate healthily.”
Despite everything, Lena almost laughed.
“Okay.”
Carter walked toward Mason.
Lena could not hear the first few words, but she saw the change in his posture.
Firm.
Mason’s face shifted from guilty to genuinely sorry.
Tank looked down at the ground.
Jonah nodded once at something Carter said.
A few minutes later, he returned.
“Mason deleted the story,” he said. “He apologized. He also said he forgot people beyond the team can see things, which is concerning from a digital literacy standpoint.”
Lena breathed out. “Thank you.”
“He won’t post about you again.”
“Okay.”
“And I told him if he makes another shirt without your permission, he has to personally alphabetize every receipt from the fundraiser.”
Her mouth parted. “There are hundreds.”
“I know.”
“That’s cruel.”
“I learned from you.”
Her smile returned slowly.
Carter looked relieved enough that guilt pinched her.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“I panicked.”
“Yeah.”
“And I pulled away.”
“And then I made you feel like your past was a problem.”
He looked at her for a long second.
“It is a problem,” he said quietly. “Sometimes. But it’s mine to handle.”
“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect me.”
“I know.”
“I just don’t want to be unfair.”
He stepped closer.
“You’re scared,” he said. “I’d rather know that than have you pretend you’re fine and disappear on me later.”
She looked down at their hands.
“You really are emotionally improving.”
“I’m exhausted by it.”
She laughed.
His smile softened.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked.
She glanced over his shoulder. Mason and the others were gone now. The walkway was still busy, but no one seemed to be watching.
Or maybe they were.
Maybe it mattered less than she thought.
“Yes,” she said.
Carter leaned in and kissed her softly.
Steady.
His hand stayed in hers. His other hand lifted only to brush her hair back from her cheek, and when he pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers for one quiet second.
“We can go slow,” he said.
Lena closed her eyes.
“Okay.”
“But I’m not going anywhere.”
He stepped back before she could answer, maybe because he knew she didn’t have words ready.
Maybe because he was learning her too.
“I’ll text you later,” he said.
She nodded.
“Eat dinner,” she said automatically.
His smile flickered. “There she is.”
“Carter.”
“I will.”
“And check on your dad.”
“Already going.”
When he pulled back, his eyes were warm.
“I like your lists,” he said. “For the record.”
Lena stood there for a moment with her coffee cup, her tote bag, and her heart beating too fast.
As a kiss that did not fix everything but promised not to make things worse.
As Carter Hayes walking away to handle his messy life, then turning back once with that soft, devastating smile like she was already part of the reason he wanted to handle it better.
Lena looked down at her phone.
Paige: Saw you at coffee shop. Heard about Team Clipboard. Need debrief. Also please tell me you did not murder Mason because I have a group project with him.
Lena: Mason survived. Barely. Carter handled it.
Paige replied fast.
Paige: Handled it how? Hot or healthy?
Lena looked toward the direction Carter had gone.
Her chest warmed.
Lena: Both, unfortunately.
Paige: Oh you are doomed doomed.
Lena smiled despite herself.
Since Carter said he was scared and let her hold his hand.
Maybe doomed was just Paige’s dramatic way of saying Lena was finally doing the one thing she could not fully control.
Choosing the risk.
Again.
And again.
And again.