The next evening was quieter than most. A gentle rain tapped softly against the windows, making the dorm hallways feel even more intimate. Michelle had her favorite blanket draped over her shoulders, a book open in her lap—but she hadn't turned a page in over fifteen minutes.
Her phone buzzed.
Steve:Are you awake?
She smiled and typed back:Michelle:Of course. Rainy nights are for not sleeping.
A few seconds passed before he replied again.Steve:Want to come down to the common room? I brought tea. And maybe… cookies I sort of tried to bake.
Michelle:Sort of?Steve:It's a long story involving flour, chaos, and me giving up halfway through. Come save me from myself?
Michelle grabbed her hoodie, ran her fingers through her hair, and tiptoed down the stairs.
Steve was sitting on the floor near the big window, two mismatched mugs in front of him and a plate of very uneven cookies. The room was dimly lit by a single lamp. Outside, the rain painted the glass with streaks of silver.
"Hey," she said softly.
He looked up, and his entire face lit up. "You came."
"Couldn't leave you alone in a baking disaster."
She sat beside him, tucking her knees under herself. He handed her a mug. Chamomile.
"You okay?" he asked after a moment. His voice was gentle, barely above a whisper.
She hesitated, then nodded. "Just… feeling a lot lately. Everything's new. College. People. You."
"Me?"
She looked at him, really looked. "You make everything feel… different. Like something's waking up in me. And I don't know if I'm ready for it, but it's happening anyway."
Steve didn't say anything right away. He reached for one of her hands, brushing his fingers along hers, slow and unsure at first.
"You don't have to be ready for anything except this moment," he said. "Just… be here with me."
Her heart skipped.
They sat like that, fingers intertwined, leaning into the silence. The cookies were forgotten. The tea went cold.
Eventually, Michelle rested her head on his shoulder.
It felt like exhaling after holding her breath for days.
Outside, the rain kept falling—but inside that room, everything was still.
Warm.
And real.