She didn't expect it to bother her.
That was the lie she told herself when she saw him laughing in the hallway the next afternoon—leaning casually against the wall, backpack slung over one shoulder, attention completely stolen by someone else.
A girl.
Pretty in an effortless way. Too comfortable. Too close.
She slowed without meaning to, books hugged to her chest as she watched the girl say something that made him grin—that grin. The one he rarely showed at home.
Something sharp twisted in her stomach.
You don't care, she told herself. You're roommates. That's it.
Yet her feet refused to move.
"Hey," he called when he finally noticed her.
The girl turned, eyes flicking over her with polite curiosity.
"Hi," she said, forcing a smile.
"This is—" he started.
"Lara," the girl finished, extending a hand.
"His course mate."
She shook it, grip firm. "Nice to meet you."
Lara's smile widened just a little. "You're the roommate."
So he'd talked about her.
"That obvious?" she asked lightly.
"A little," Lara said. "He complains about you stealing space in the fridge."
She blinked. "He—what?"
He groaned. "I said sharing, not stealing."
Lara laughed again. Too easily.
They talked for another minute—about lectures, deadlines, things she suddenly didn't want to hear. When Lara finally excused herself, waving cheerfully as she walked away, the hallway felt colder.
"You didn't tell me you had friends," she said, sharper than intended.
He raised a brow. "You didn't ask."
She scoffed, walking past him. "Figures."
He followed her back to the room, closing the door behind them.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Nothing."
"That tone says otherwise."
She dropped her books onto the desk. "You can bring whoever you want. It's not my business."
"Then why are you upset?"
"I'm not."
He studied her face, then smiled slowly.
"You're jealous."
She spun around. "I am not."
"Relax," he said. "Lara's just a friend."
The word just echoed louder than it should have.
"Good," she replied. "Because that would've been awkward."
"Why?"
She froze.
Because it shouldn't matter.
Because it does.
She turned away. "Because we're roommates."
His voice softened. "Right."
But neither of them believed it anymore.
Later that night, alone in the dark, she stared at the ceiling, replaying the sound of his laughter with someone else.
And the thought that scared her most wasn't losing him.
It was realizing she already cared.