1. Iris #3
"I guess you could say that," I admitted quietly, dropping my guard just a fraction.
Sophie smiled, triumphant but gentle. "Guess I was right about the art thing. What kind of art do you make? Messy, angry landscapes? Abstract emotional self-portraits?" She pointed a finger toward my face. "Something tells me you pour all that repressed energy onto the canvas."
My smile was small, reluctant, but real. "I never show anyone my paintings. And you're already doing too much speculating for one evening, Mercer."
"A mystery, then," Sophie mused, her gaze lingering a beat too long. "I like a challenge, Iris. I always get the ball in the net, eventually."
I felt a dizzying combination of fear and exhilaration. I was actually enjoying this. I was being seen and I wasn’t running. This was the moment of electric connection the plan had called for, and it was terrifyingly sweet.
"I’m sure you do," I managed, fighting a genuine smile. "But this artist’s canvas is strictly off-limits."
The moment shattered before either of us could respond.
“Babe! There you are!”
A new voice, smooth, deep, and utterly masculine, cut through the music. A handsome guy with a friendly, easy demeanor stepped up to Sophie, effortlessly sliding his arm around her waist, claiming her as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
He pressed a lingering kiss to Sophie’s cheek, his touch intimate and familiar.
"I've been looking all over for you, gorgeous. Come meet the rest of the guys. Who are your friends?"
My blood went instantly cold. A guy. Of course.
The genuine smile I had been fighting to keep on my face vanished, replaced by a mask of cold hostility.
It wasn't just disappointment; it was the sickening drop of recognition.
This was Riley all over again: the sudden, public appearance of a casual fling, proving I was wrong to trust my gay-dar, wrong to lower my guard.
"This is Iris, my new roommate," Sophie said, her hand resting warmly on the guy’s arm. She seemed entirely oblivious to the sudden, frozen atmosphere. "And this is her friend, Maya."
"Mark," the guy said, extending a hand that I pointedly ignored as I picked up my glass. "Great to finally meet the infamous artist. Soph hasn't stopped talking about you since the party began. She says you’re the grumpiest person she’s ever met."
Sophie lightly punched his shoulder. "I said she was a challenge, Mark. There’s a difference."
"No, there isn't," I cut in, my voice laced with the ice I'd perfected last year. I looked directly at Sophie, my eyes conveying the sharp, sudden hostility I felt. "You're confused, Mercer. A challenge implies an eventual reward. I'm just an obstacle you're going to trip over."
Mark, clearly missing the subtext, laughed. "Ouch. Feisty. I like that."
Maya, however, read the room perfectly and stepped in front of me, shielding me slightly. "Mark, sweetie, we're leaving. Iris just remembered she has a deadline involving a particularly difficult shade of crimson."
"Wait, don't go," Sophie insisted, finally picking up on the shift in my demeanor. Her brow furrowed, the carefree light in her eyes dimming to genuine confusion. "Iris, what’s wrong? I thought we were having fun."
I gave her a tight, brittle smile. "We were having a conversation, Mercer. And I realized my initial assessment was correct. We have nothing in common. I chase passion, and you chase cheap thrills."
"Excuse me?" Sophie’s voice rose, losing its practiced ease. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means I don't engage with people who treat relationships like a game," I retorted, the words spilling out with the speed of years of repressed anger. I glanced pointedly at Mark, who was now just looking bewildered. Don't you dare tell her your sexuality is something to be 'experimented' with.
"Woah, hold on," Mark said, finally sensing the tension. "I think you’ve got the wrong idea, Art Girl—"
“I’m leaving.”
My carefully constructed walls had crumbled, and now I was standing in the emotional rubble.
I looked at Sophie, searching for any sign of a lie, any trace of the duplicity that had ruined my junior year.
Her face was open, confused, and hurt. But my fear was louder than her honesty. She’s lying. They always lie.
I turned, letting all the cold disdain I felt for Riley bleed into my tone for Sophie. “Have fun with your... boyfriend, Mercer.”
I didn't wait for a response. I grabbed Maya's arm, yanking her back through the common room doors.
"Iris, that was…a strong reaction," Maya said, once we were back in the quiet, empty hallway. "You went zero to nuclear in three seconds."
"I shouldn’t have come," I said, the adrenaline draining away, leaving behind a cold pit of shame. I
“Well, we can always go to the party in my dorm, if you don’t like this one.”
But as we walked back to the room, all I could hear was Sophie’s genuine, confused voice: "What is that supposed to mean?"
And all I could think was: It meant I wanted you. And that’s exactly why I had to leave.