Joren stepped back into Room 4A just after sunset, hoodie still clinging to the day's humidity. Dale was on his bed, legs crossed, scrolling TikTok with the volume low and a half-eaten protein bar in hand.He looked up, smirk already loaded. "Well, well. Romeo returns."
Joren dropped his notebook on the desk and collapsed into his chair. "Don't start."
Dale sat up, stretching. "Too late. I've been rehearsing lines all day. You look like you just got ghosted by your own reflection."
Joren rubbed his eyes. "I'm tired."
"You're emotionally concussed," Dale said.
"You fumbled a certified baddie and now you're out here writing breakup haikus."
Joren didn't reply. He just stared at the floor, the vending machine M&Ms still in his hoodie pocket.
Dale leaned forward. "So what now? You gonna tell me what happened after the crash last night? Or were you just wandering the campus today like a sad NPC?"
Joren hesitated. "I walked. Needed air."
Dale nodded. "Classic post-fumble recovery. Did you cry near a tree?"
Joren cracked a smile. "No trees. Just vending machines."
Dale raised an eyebrow. "You stress-ate Doritos?"
"Peanut M&Ms."
"Therapeutic," Dale said. "Did they help?"
Joren shrugged. "Kind of. I didn't buy them, though."
Dale blinked. "Wait—what?"
"I met someone. She gave them to me."
Dale sat up straighter. "Hold up. You met someone? Like, met met?"
"Yeah. She was standing there. We reached for the same pack. She made a joke. I laughed. She gave me the candy."
Dale narrowed his eyes. "That sounds a bit... intimate."
"She was cool, though." Joren said. "Funny. Sharp. Said her name was Zuri."
Dale paused. "Zuri?"
"Yeah. Zuri."
Dale stared at him like he'd just said he met Beyoncé in the laundry room.
"Bro," he said slowly. "You're joking."
Joren frowned. "No?"
Dale grabbed his phone, already scrolling. "Zuri? Like, the Zuri Monroe?"
Joren blinked. "I didn't know there was a 'the.'"
Dale turned his screen toward him. Zuri's Instagram. 22.4K followers.
"She's not just cool," Dale said. "She's campus-famous. Fashion club, student union, dated that senior with the Benz. She's like… top shelf."
Joren stared at the screen, then down at the M&Ms still in his hoodie pocket.
"She gave me these," he said quietly.
Dale shook his head, grinning. "You really out here collecting trophies by accident."
Joren didn't laugh. He just pulled out his notebook and flipped to a fresh page.
> Step 10: Don't catch feelings for someone who's waaaaay out of your league.
> Step 11: Figure out why she even talked to me in the first place.
Dale watched him write, then leaned back. "You're in deep already."
"I'm not," Joren said, but even he didn't believe it.
Dale stretched, cracking his knuckles.
"So what's the move? You gonna text her or something?"
Joren shook his head. "She invited me to some open mic thing tonight."
Dale raised an eyebrow. "You going?"
"I don't know."
"Bro. You have to."
Joren looked up. "Why?"
"Because she invited you. That's like a golden ticket. You don't ghost Zuri Monroe."
"I don't even know if she meant it."
"She tossed you candy and gave you a personal invite. That's basically a proposal."
Joren laughed, despite himself. "You're ridiculous."
Dale stood up and grabbed his hoodie. "You're going. I'll walk you there."
Joren blinked. "Wait, you're coming?"
"Nah," Dale said. "I'm just making sure you don't bail halfway. I'll drop you off like a responsible friend and then go eat wings with people who don't have emotional breakdowns over vending machines."
Joren rolled his eyes but stood up anyway. He grabbed his notebook, hesitated, then stuffed it into his backpack instead of carrying it out in the open.
> Step 12: Go. Even if it sucks.
They walked across campus in silence, the sky fading into a soft navy. Students passed by in clusters, earbuds in, laughter trailing behind them. Joren kept his hands in his pockets, trying not to look like someone who was spiraling.
Outside the student union, Dale stopped.
"This is your stop, champ."
Joren looked at the building, then back at Dale.
"You sure you don't want to come in?"
Dale grinned. "I'm not built for poetry night. I'd heckle someone and get banned."
Joren nodded. "Fair."
Dale clapped him on the shoulder. "Text me if she kisses you or roasts you. I need updates."
Joren laughed. "Noted."
He watched Dale walk off, then turned toward the doors.
---
The student union was buzzing—low lights, mismatched chairs, a mic stand glowing under a single spotlight. People milled around with paper cups and nervous energy. Some were dressed like they were performing. Others looked like they'd just wandered in for free snacks.
Joren hovered near the back, unsure if he belonged.
He spotted Zuri across the room, talking to someone in a leather jacket. She laughed at something they said, then glanced around—and for a split second, her eyes met his.
She smiled. Just a flicker. Just enough to say, I see you.
Joren's heart did something stupid.
He found a seat near the wall, pulled out his notebook, and opened to a blank page.
> Step 13: Don't be weird.
> Step 14: Don't fumble this one.
The mic crackled. Someone stepped up. The night had begun.
The first performer was a guy in a hoodie who read a poem about his ex-girlfriend and his cat. It was awkward, but the crowd clapped politely.
Then came a girl who sang a Billie Eilish cover with shaky confidence.
Then a duo who did a dramatic monologue about capitalism and cafeteria food.
Joren watched, half-engaged, half-nervous.
Then Zuri stepped up.
She didn't introduce herself. Just walked to the mic like she'd done it a hundred times.
She adjusted it, looked out at the crowd, and began.
> "I'm not your muse.
> I'm not your manic pixie dream girl.
> I'm not your healing arc.
> I'm just tired of being romanticized by people who don't even ask my last name."
The crowd clapped. Joren stared.
She was funny. Sharp. Raw. Her voice was steady, but her words cut deep. She wasn't performing—she was unloading, though the poem was very cringe.
Joren felt his chest tighten. She wasn't just magnetic. She was being real.
She finished, nodded once, and walked off stage.
As she passed, her eyes met Joren's. Just for a second.
She winked.
Not big. Not flirty. Just subtle.
Joren opened his notebook.
> Step 15: Don't mess this up.
> Step 16: Figure out my chances with Zuri.
He closed the book and leaned back, letting the next performer's voice fade into the background.
For the first time in days, he didn't feel like a walking mistake.
He felt like maybe—just maybe—he was starting to matter.
His phone buzzed.
He pulled it out, expecting a text from Dale.
It wasn't.
Tasha:
Hey. Can we talk?
Joren stared at the screen, the glow of it suddenly too bright.
The room around him blurred, the mic, the crowd, even Zuri's voice in his memory—all drowned out by two words.
Can we talk?
He didn't move.
Just stared.
And felt everything shift again.