Chapter 10
TEN
I’m genuinely—and annoyingly—jealous
SOPHIE
The bookstore is my favorite job for one reason—it's almost like I’m getting paid to study in peace.
I’m tucked behind the register with a textbook cracked open beside me.
It’s slow here—this time of year always is, after the back-to-school rush dies down.
Most students already have what they need.
I finished my part of the Intro to Comm presentation earlier today.
Micah had emailed the team with edits and suggestions, and I revised my slides and sent it back.
I noticed recently that I think about him way too much.
He's ridiculously handsome—tall, with that brown hair that curls slightly at the ends. Beautiful gray eyes and sharp jaw. It’s not fair.
He’s genuinely one of the most attractive people I’ve ever met, but it’s not just that.
He’s warm, kind, and considerate in this really quiet, subtle way.
I’ve never been close to anyone like him. The scary part is that I enjoy his company. I genuinely have a good time talking to him.
But his life seems so far from mine. And yet he never rubs it in my face. He never makes me feel small. I wonder if he has his own baggage. He must. Everyone does. Even people like him, I’m sure.
I’ve thought about telling him about Carter.
Just to get some perspective. Maybe advice.
But every time I get close to the idea, I pull back.
I don’t want him to see me like that—vulnerable, messy, weak.
I don’t want him to see my baggage and decide it’s too much.
He’s the one person lately who makes me feel lighter. I don’t want to lose that.
And then there’s Grant. He’s loud and obnoxious in the best way. Hilarious. He doesn’t seem to have a care in the world. I envy the ease and freedom he seems to carry.
I sigh and force myself to refocus, pulling out my notes for my Civic Engagement and Public Policy class. I’m writing a paper on the role of civic duty in modern democracy, but the words are swimming on the page. I need to focus. I can’t risk losing any of my scholarship money.
But maybe that’s the problem. For once, there’s something—or someone—taking up more space in my mind. And I don’t know whether I should enjoy it or be terrified.
The bell above the entrance chimes and I glance up.
Poppy walks in with that effortless bounce in her step, her smooth hair is pulled back today and a big smile lights up her whole face.
“Hey, roomie,” she beams. “I was hoping to catch you this morning, but you were already gone. I just got out of Chem Lab and have some time before my next class. Thought I’d hang with my new bestie. ”
I smile, a little surprised but warmed by her presence. “I’d love that. I’m here for just another hour.”
“No problem!” she shrugs. “Looks pretty quiet in here. I’ll just hang out.”
She reaches into her bag and pulls out a wrapped sandwich. “I made us something. It’s nothing fancy, but I hope you like it.”
“Oh my god.” My eyes go wide. “Seriously, thank you. You're a lifesaver.”
Poppy grins. “We’ve gotta look out for each other. Now, please don’t get mad if I maybe forgot to lock the door again today.”
I’m big on locking doors—a habit I picked up after my mother remarried. Poppy, though, not so much. But I can’t be mad at her, not when she’s sitting here bringing me homemade food.
She settles onto the empty stool beside the register, already peeling back the wrapper on her half. “So,” she says, tone casual but with a glint of mischief in her eye, “Are you seeing anyone?”
I almost laugh. “No. I don’t really have the time to date. You?”
“I date around,” she says with a shrug. “Nothing serious. No one worth being exclusive with yet, you know? When’s the last time you were with someone?”
Casual dating isn't something I've ever really done—or any dating at all, really. “I guess there was someone last year,” I say. “We weren’t together or anything, though—it was just a crush on my end. We had Public Speaking together.”
“And?”
“He was a year ahead of me. Really well-spoken—never stumbled over a single word during presentations, which I was in awe of. We got paired up for a project, and one day he just asked me what I actually wanted to do with my life, not what I was studying, not what I was planning—what I wanted. Nobody had ever asked me that before.” I pause.
“I didn't even have an answer. But I remember thinking—this person sees me.
And then the semester ended and he just…
didn't get in touch. Neither did I, I guess. But it still stung more than it should have for something that was never really anything.”
Poppy lights up. “What’s his name? Do you know his major?”
I shake my head. “Not sure about the last name, but his name is Holden, and I think he was a poli-sci major. Or maybe pre-law? Something similar to mine.”
Poppy’s already pulling out her phone. “I’m a professional social media stalker. Let’s find him.”
I wave my hands. “No, it’s fine! I haven’t even thought about him in months. Just came up because of your question.”
She grins. “Fine. But if you change your mind, I’m your girl.”
I laugh. “What about you? Looking for a boyfriend?”
She leans back, eyes softening a little. “Maybe? I’m not sure. My courseload isn’t too bad yet, so I’m just going on dates, but mostly casual stuff.”
I almost envy how easy she makes it sound—dating like it's a hobby instead of a whole production.
I glance over at her. “Actually, can I actually get your thoughts on something?”
Poppy nods eagerly.
“There's this guy,” I say, fiddling with the edge of my sleeve. “He keeps showing up. Helps me out, drives me places. I don't know if it means anything or if he's just like that with everyone.”
Poppy leans forward. “Sophie, take a look in the mirror. You know you’re really pretty, right?
You’ve totally got that girl-next-door, innocent thing that guys would die for.
That guy is definitely into you. There’s no coincidence with guys.
And if he’s not into you, he’s probably just not into girls at all. ”
I laugh, and immediately feel my cheeks start to warm. Then my phone buzzes on the counter.
I glance at the screen. My stomach tightens. Micah. Speak of the devil.
Did he hear me say that?
I glance around, but there’s no sign of him.
Poppy catches my change in expression. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s him,” I say, staring at the text. Then I read it.
Micah
Hey Soph. Grant, Wyatt, and I are on campus ‘til six. Want to grab dinner after?
Wait—you’re on campus today, right? If you’re at the cafe, we’re planning to swing by around six. Want to grab dinner with us?
Wow, that sounded way more casual in my head.
Dinner? Six? Hope you’re free.
“What does he want?” Poppy asks, way too excited.
“He wants to grab dinner tonight,” I say.
“What? A date? Okay, see? He’s definitely into you.”
“It’s not a date. His two friends are coming too. Either way, I can’t.”
“You have another shift somewhere?”
I shake my head. “No. It’s actually one of the rare nights I don’t have work or class. But I’ve got a ton to catch up on—readings, papers, all of it. I’m really behind.”
Which isn’t a lie. But it’s not the whole truth either.
I called in sick for tutoring today to avoid Carter.
I’m stuck. I need the income, but I can’t go back if it means dealing with him again.
And there’s no world in which I’d ever say yes to what he’s asking.
So for now, the only plan I have is avoidance.
Poppy gives me a look. “Sophie. You need to have some fun. This guy clearly likes you, and I’m worried you’re shutting him down before anything even starts.
What if this semester ends and you miss your chance—just like Holden last year?
You’ve never really had those fun, reckless college experiences, right? Just one night. Let loose.”
I hesitate. She’s right. And I do want to see Micah again. I even like Grant—he’s chaos in the best way. I don’t really know Wyatt, but he’s on the law school track, so I could maybe talk to him about that.
I text back.
Me
Can I bring my roommate?
His reply comes within seconds.
Micah
Of course. Whatever makes you more comfortable.
I tuck the phone away, trying to hide the way my heart jumps a little.
“Okay,” I say, trying to hide my smile. “I’ll go. But you’re coming with me.”
Poppy and I make our way across the parking lot. Micah is already outside, leaning casually against the passenger side of his car, hands shoved into the pockets of a Westcliffe hoodie. When he spots us, he straightens and moves toward the door, like he’s been waiting.
Poppy nudges me with her elbow. “Woah. He’s hot. And he’s a gentleman,” she whispers.
“Please, sit in the front,” she adds a little louder, before I can argue.
“Hi,” Micah greets, his gray eyes flicker between us, then lands on Poppy. “I’m Micah.”
“Poppy Reed,” she says brightly, ready to get into the back seat. “Nice to meet you.”
Micah opens the door for her with a polite smile. “And that’s Grant at the end and Wyatt in the middle seat,” he says, gesturing inside.
For the first time since I met her, Poppy goes completely quiet.
Her gaze is fixed on Wyatt, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why.
Wyatt’s stupidly good-looking, even sitting in a cramped back seat—cramped for him because all these guys are so freaking tall.
Micah notices her silence, and his mouth twitches in amusement before he shuts the door behind her.
Then he turns to me, pulling open the passenger door with a teasing glint in his eye. “Hey, Lenny. You copying me?” he asks, nodding toward my white Westcliffe sweatshirt, almost identical to the gray hoodie he’s wearing.
I glance between the two of us, heat creeping up my neck. “I think you’re the one copying me.”