Joren stared at his phone like it had just betrayed him.
Tasha:
Hey. Can we talk?
The message sat there, glowing against the dim light of the student union. Around him, the open mic continued—someone was reading a poem about their dead hamster and capitalism. He couldn't hear a word of it.
His thumb hovered over the screen. Reply? Ignore? Screenshot and send to Dale?
He didn't move.
Zuri was somewhere in the crowd, probably laughing with friends, probably not thinking about him. And yet, she'd winked. She'd seen him. She'd invited him.
And now Tasha wanted to talk.
Talk about what?
The almost-hookup? The awkward silence? The way she'd said "I'll text you" like it was a favor?
He opened his notebook.
Step 17: Don't spiral.
Step 18: Don't text back just because you're lonely.
He stared at the words for a long moment, then closed the book and shoved it into his backpack.
The mic crackled again. Someone started singing off-key. Joren stood up, heart thudding, and slipped out the side door.
---
Outside, the air was cooler. The sky was dark, the campus lit by scattered lampposts and the glow of dorm windows. Joren walked without direction, hands in his pockets, phone still in his palm.
He opened the message again.
Hey. Can we talk?
He typed:
About what?
Then deleted it.
Typed again:
Sure.
Deleted that too.
He shoved the phone into his pocket and kept walking. The sidewalk was damp from a sprinkler, and his sneakers made soft squeaks with every step. A couple passed him, laughing, arms linked. Someone rode by on a skateboard, hoodie flapping like a cape. The world kept moving. Joren didn't.
He ended up near the campus fountain, where the water gurgled like it was trying to say something wise. He sat on the edge, staring at the ripples.
He thought about Tasha's voice. The way it had cracked—not from anger, but restraint. She'd wanted it too. That made it worse. He got up and headed to his dorm.
---
Back in Room 4A, Dale was lying on his bed, gaming headset on, yelling at someone named "SniperBaby69." His voice was half rage, half comedy.
"Bro, you can't camp in the corner like that! Move!" He looked up as Joren walked in.
"You survived," he said. "Did she roast you or kiss you?"
Joren didn't answer. Just dropped his backpack and sat on the edge of his bed.
Dale pulled off his headset. "Yo. You good?"
Joren nodded slowly. "Tasha texted me."
Dale blinked. "Wait—now?"
"Yeah. Right after the mic."
Dale whistled. "Timing's suspicious."
Joren rubbed his face. "I don't know what she wants."
"She probably wants closure. Or a redo. Or to mess with your head."
Joren looked up. "You think she's messing with me?"
Dale shrugged. "I think she's confused. And that you're easy to confuse."
Joren cracked a smile. "Thanks."
"That wasn't a compliment." Dale leaned forward. "So what are you gonna do?"
"I don't know."
"You gonna tell Zuri?"
Joren blinked, a bit confused. "Tell her what?"
"That your almost-hookup just texted you out of nowhere?"
Joren hesitated. "Why would i do that? I barely even know her."
"Exactly," Dale said. "Which means you can either keep it clean or start stacking up drama."
Dale leaned against his desk, arms crossed. "Okay, but real talk—why do you even feel like you owe her a reply?"
Joren shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe because it ended weird. Maybe because I still feel like I messed it up."
"You didn't mess it up," Dale said. "You just didn't have a condom. That's not a crime—it's a rookie mistake."
Joren looked down. "She seemed disappointed."
"Yeah, well, disappointment doesn't equal destiny," Dale said. "She's not your gf, bro. She's a failed hookup. That's it."
Joren blinked. "You make it sound so cold."
"It is cold," Dale said. "Because if you keep warming it up with guilt and overthinking, you're gonna start imagining feelings that don't exist."
Joren opened his notebook again.
Step 19: Don't confuse closure with connection.
Step 20: Not every girl who touches you is meant to stay.
He stared at the last line, then nodded slowly.
Dale tossed him a bottle of water. "You're good, man. You've got Zuri smiling at you and poetry night under your belt. Don't let one awkward night drag you back."
Joren didn't reply. He just turned his phone face-down again and lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
The fan spun lazily overhead. Dale went back to yelling at SniperBaby69. Joren closed his eyes.
Outside, the campus was quiet. Inside, his thoughts weren't.