5. Iris #2
She was trying to get me out of there, sensing how uncomfortable Elena made me.
“Yeah.” I took a step back, not facing Elena as I turned. “See you around.”
We walked away, Sophie’s hand lingering on my back just long enough to ensure I was steady. As we stepped out into the cool night air of the sculpture garden, the shame of the past felt smaller, like a distant, unimportant sketch compared to the vibrant reality of the woman beside me.
"You okay?" Sophie asked softly as we reached a secluded bench near a stone fountain.
"I am now," I admitted, looking up at her. "Thank you for that. That was Elena, someone Riley knew…she saw my meltdown and…” I dragged in a breath, doubts filling my head.
“Iris, it’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.” She squeezed my hand and I felt weird, keeping the fact that we were dating from everyone.
I took the escape route as we explored more sculptures together. Sophie showed interest in everything, but as I watched her, full of life and joy, unmarred by the past, I wondered if I’d ever be good enough for her.
The afternoon sun was streaming through the tall windows of the Fine Arts corridor, casting long, golden rectangles across the linoleum.
I was walking back from my advanced painting seminar, my portfolio bag heavy on my shoulder, but my heart felt lighter than it had in months.
I was still riding the high of the gallery date—the memory of Sophie’s hand on my back a constant, warm pressure in my mind.
The thing with Elena had shaken me up, but after Sophie came to my rescue, I’d forgotten about it.
I was thinking about what to get for dinner—maybe that Thai place Sophie liked—when the air in the hallway suddenly felt cold.
Twenty feet ahead, near the vending machines, stood Riley.
She was leaning against the wall, laughing at something a guy next to her was saying. He was tall, wearing a varsity jacket, his arm draped casually over her shoulders. The sight of them—so effortless, so normal—sent a sharp, familiar jolt of nausea through my stomach.
I immediately ducked my head, clutching the strap of my bag tighter. Just keep walking. Don't look up. She hasn't seen you.
"Iris? Is that you?"
The voice stopped me mid-step. I closed my eyes for a fraction of a second, bracing myself, before looking up.
"Hey, Riley," I said, my voice sounding flatter than I intended.
Riley stepped away from her boyfriend, a small, practiced smile on her face—the kind of look she used when she wanted to seem like the bigger person. The guy stayed back, looking bored as he checked his phone.
"I haven't seen you around the studios lately," Riley said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I heard you were... hiding out in your room."
"I've been busy," I replied, already moving to step past her.
"I heard that, too," Riley said, her tone shifting. It was lighter now, almost conspiratorial. "Word travels fast in a place like this. People are saying you're trying to make things work with your roommate. Sophie Mercer, right? Are you interested in her?"
I froze. I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of a reaction, but the mention of Sophie’s name in Riley’s mouth felt like a violation. "It’s none of your business, Riley."
"Oh, I'm not judging, Iris. Really," Riley said, stepping closer.
Her boyfriend glanced up, sensing the shift in energy.
Riley lowered her voice, her expression softening into something that looked horribly like pity.
"I just... I think you should be careful. Sophie is a star. She’s the 'Golden Girl.
' She’s used to things being easy, bright, and fun. "
I felt the old shame beginning to prickle at the back of my neck. "What’s your point?"
"My point is that you aren't exactly 'easy,' are you?
" Riley tilted her head, her eyes scanning my face with a clinical coldness.
"I put up with the moods, the silence, and the constant 'artist' drama because... well, you were an experiment for me. It was new and intense, so I had the patience for it. But for someone like Sophie? Someone who lives in the sun? She’s going to grow bored of the gloom eventually, Iris. "
The words hit exactly where Riley knew I was most vulnerable.
"You’re a lot of work," Riley continued, her voice a gentle, devastating whisper.
"And once the novelty of dating the 'mysterious roommate' wears off, Sophie is going to realize that she’s stuck with someone who is constantly waiting for the world to end.
Don't lead her on just because you want a rebound to get over me. It’s not fair to her. "
"We're done here," I snapped, my chest heaving. I didn't wait for a rebuttal. I shoved past her, the weight of my portfolio suddenly feeling like a leaden anchor.
"See ya, Iris!" Riley called out, her voice returning to that cheerful, public mask.
I didn't look back. I practically ran the rest of the way to the dorms, my mind a chaotic blur of Riley’s words. A lot of work. Bored of the gloom. An experiment.
By the time I reached Room 418, the joy of the gallery date felt like a lifetime ago. I stood outside the door, my hand trembling as I reached for the handle. I could hear Sophie inside—she was humming a pop song, the sound of her opening the fridge clinking cheerfully.
She was light. She was sun. And I was the girl who had spent the last year building a fortress out of turpentine and resentment.
Was I leading her on? Was I just a 'project' to her, a way for her to feel good about herself by 'fixing' the broken girl in the room?
I didn't open the door. I couldn't. Instead, I leaned my forehead against the cool wood of the hallway, feeling the old walls I thought I’d torn down starting to rise again, brick by agonizing brick.
The hum of the heater in the room felt like a low-frequency warning.
Since my run-in with Riley, the walls of the dorm had started to feel less like a sanctuary and more like a pressure cooker.
Riley’s words—experiment, bored, gloom—were on a loop in my head, a poisonous soundtrack to every moment I spent with Sophie.
Sophie, oblivious to the ghost I’d encountered in the hallway, was in high spirits. She was humming as she packed a small duffel bag, her energy light and expansive.
"So," she said, turning toward me with a bright, hopeful look. "My parents called. They’re doing the whole massive turkey dinner for Thanksgiving, and they told me I should bring someone. I was thinking... maybe you’d want to come? It’s only a two-hour drive."
I felt my heart skip a beat, but not in the good way. It felt like a tripwire. "Your parents?"
"Yeah. And if that feels like too much too soon," she continued, undeterred by my stiffening posture, "Mark and Maya are doing a serious movie marathon this Friday. They specifically asked if 'the couple' was coming. It would be nice to just... be out with them. Officially."
Officially. Couple. Parents. The words hit me like stones.
My breath hitched. This was the visibility Riley warned me about.
This was the part where I became a real person in Sophie’s real life, not just a secret kept behind the door of Room 418.
If I went, I was in. And if I was in, I could be thrown out.
"I can't," I said, my voice sharper than I intended.
Sophie paused, a sock halfway into her bag. "The movie night? That’s fine, we can—"
"No, Sophie. All of it," I snapped, standing up so abruptly my chair scraped harshly against the floor. "The parents, the double dates... it’s too much."
Sophie’s brow furrowed, her confusion quickly sharpening into concern. "Iris, it’s just a dinner. I thought we were doing great. I understand if you don’t want to meet my parents yet, but after the gallery, I thought—"
"What did you think?" I barked, the panic finally boiling over. "That we’re some perfect little pair? You’re moving way too fast, Sophie. We haven’t even defined this yet and you want me to go home with you for Thanksgiving?
Are you sure you're trying to slot me into your perfect life like I'm just another trophy for the shelf. "
Sophie flinched as if I’d slapped her. She stood up straight, her hands dropping to her sides. "A trophy? Is that really what you think is happening here? Iris, where is this coming from? I thought we were past this."
"I think you're bored!" I yelled, Riley's poison finally leaking out. "I think you like the challenge making me open up, but what happens when the novelty wears off? What happens when you realize I’m actually just gloomy and difficult and work? You’ll go back to your bright, sunny world and leave me in the dark, just like everyone else. "
For the first time since I’d met her, I saw Sophie’s patience shatter. Her eyes, usually so warm, flashed with a deep, searing hurt.
"You’ve got to be kidding me," she said, her voice trembling with frustration. "I’ve spent weeks walking on eggshells for you. I’ve waited for you to be ready.
I’ve let you set every single boundary. You kissed me, Iris.
You went on a date with me. You showed me your paintings and let me into your world, and now you’re mad because I’m trying to let you into mine? "
"It’s not the same!"
"It is exactly the same!" Sophie stepped toward me, her voice rising.
"You’re using the lack of a label as a safety net.
You think if you don't call me your girlfriend, then it doesn't count when you push me away.
You're using your past as an excuse to avoid being accountable for the person standing right in front of you! "
I opened my mouth to defend myself, to tell her about Riley, my fears, but the words died in my throat.
I was paralyzed. I was the one who had built the fortress, and now I was trapped inside it.
I retreated into a cold, stony silence, my arms crossed tightly over my chest. I didn’t know how to trust her completely.
Sophie waited. She searched my face for a crack, for a sign that I was going to reach out. But I stayed frozen.