The more time they spend together, the harder it becomes to ignore what's building between them.
Over the next week, a pattern emerged.
Monday: Vanessa sat next to Ethan in Computer Science. They worked through problems together, her asking questions, him explaining concepts in ways that made sense to her.
Tuesday: They grabbed coffee at Brew Haven after their afternoon classes. Vanessa talked about a paper she was writing for her business ethics course. Ethan listened, occasionally offering input that made her laugh.
Wednesday: They studied in the library. Separate tables at first, then—when Vanessa noticed Ethan struggling with an economics problem—she moved to sit across from him and walked him through the theory.
Thursday: They ate lunch together on the quad. Vanessa brought food from the expensive campus café. Ethan brought his usual sandwich from home. She didn't comment on the difference.
Friday: They had coffee again. This time, Ethan insisted on paying. Vanessa tried to argue, but he was firm. "You've paid four times already. It's my turn."
By the end of the week, people had stopped staring.
Now they just whispered.
"You're playing with fire."
Sophie caught Vanessa outside the business building on Friday afternoon. Her expression was worried rather than judgmental, which somehow made it worse.
"I'm just making a friend," Vanessa said.
"That's not what it looks like."
"Then maybe people need better glasses."
Sophie grabbed her arm gently. "V, I'm serious. Madison's been talking. She's convinced you're doing this to... I don't know, rebel or something. And Marcus—" She lowered her voice. "Marcus is furious."
"Marcus can be furious all he wants. I'm not dating him. I never was."
"He thinks you were leading him on."
"That's his problem, not mine."
Sophie sighed. "I'm just trying to warn you. They're planning something for tomorrow night. Marcus's party. The one everyone's been talking about."
Vanessa had forgotten about the party. Marcus threw one every month at his family's lake house—expensive alcohol, loud music, the entire social hierarchy of Silverbrook crammed into one space.
She'd gone to every single one for the past two years.
"I'm not going," Vanessa said.
"What?"
"I said I'm not going. I don't want to be around them right now."
Sophie's eyes widened. "Vanessa, you can't just not show up. Everyone's expecting you. And if you don't come, they're going to think—"
"I don't care what they think."
"But—"
"Sophie." Vanessa's voice softened. "I appreciate you looking out for me. I really do. But I need you to trust me on this. I'm not playing games. I'm not trying to make a statement. I'm just... trying to figure out who I actually am. Outside of all this."
Sophie looked at her for a long moment. Then she nodded slowly. "Okay. Just... be careful, alright?"
"I will."
But as Sophie walked away, Vanessa felt the weight of her words.
They're planning something.
She pulled out her phone and pulled up her conversation with Ethan.
Vanessa: You working tomorrow night?
The response came a few minutes later.
Ethan: Yeah. Saturday nights are always busy. Why?
Vanessa hesitated, her thumbs hovering over the keyboard.
Vanessa: Just wondering. Be safe.
Ethan: Always am.
She stared at the screen, anxiety coiling in her stomach.
She should warn him. Tell him to be extra careful. But what would she even say? That her ex-friends might try to start something?
It sounded paranoid.
Maybe she was just being paranoid.
She pocketed her phone and headed home, trying to shake the feeling that something was about to go very wrong.
Saturday arrived with clear skies and unseasonably warm weather.
Ethan woke up to find his mother sitting at the kitchen table, looking more alert than she had in weeks. The medication was working—finally.
"Morning, sweetheart," she said as he shuffled in.
"Morning, Mom." He kissed the top of her head. "You're up early."
"Feeling good today." She smiled at him, and it reached her eyes. "Lily made pancakes. They're in the oven staying warm."
Ethan retrieved the plate, and the three of them sat together—a rare moment of normalcy. Lily chattered about her classes, their mother asked questions, and for forty-five minutes, they were just a family having breakfast.
No bills. No stress. Just this.
"You working tonight?" his mother asked as Ethan cleared the dishes.
"Yeah. Saturday night shift."
"You work too much, honey."
"I work enough." He squeezed her shoulder. "Don't worry about me."
"I'm your mother. Worrying is in the job description."
Lily looked up from her phone. "Ethan has a friend now. A girl friend. Not girlfriend, but girl space friend."
Ethan shot her a look. "Lily."
"What? It's true!" She grinned. "Her name is Vanessa. She's in his Computer Science class."
Their mother's eyes lit up. "A friend? Ethan, that's wonderful!"
"It's not a big deal."
"Of course it is. You never talk about people from school."
"Because there's nothing to talk about."
"Except now there is," Lily said smugly.
Ethan pointed at her. "You're the worst."
"You love me."
"Debatable."
Their mother laughed—a sound Ethan hadn't heard enough of lately. He found himself smiling despite the embarrassment.
Maybe having Vanessa as a friend wasn't such a terrible thing after all.
By 5:45 PM, Ethan was at Harlow's, tying on his apron and prepping for the dinner rush.
"Big night tonight," Danny warned. "We've got reservations stacked from six to ten. And there's some private party upstairs."
"Upstairs?" Harlow's had a second floor that was usually closed off, reserved for special events.
"Yeah. Some university kid rented it out. Rich kid, apparently. Dropped serious cash."
Ethan's stomach tightened. "Do you know which university?"
"Silverbrook, I think. Why?"
"Just curious."
Danny gave him a strange look but didn't press. "Well, you're on the main floor tonight. So you won't have to deal with them."
"Good."
Except it wasn't good.
Because Ethan had a sinking feeling he knew exactly whose party was happening upstairs.
The dinner rush started at six and didn't let up.
Ethan moved through his section on autopilot—taking orders, delivering food, refilling drinks, clearing plates. The noise from upstairs filtered down occasionally—bass-heavy music, bursts of laughter, the unmistakable sound of people having too much fun.
By eight o'clock, Ethan's section had cleared slightly, giving him a moment to breathe.
He was restocking napkins when he heard the commotion.
A group was coming down the stairs—loud, drunk, stumbling slightly. Ethan recognized them immediately.
Marcus Chen led the way, his arm around Madison. Blake and a few others followed, all of them flushed and grinning.
And in the middle of the group, looking distinctly uncomfortable, was Vanessa.
Ethan's heart sank.
She came.
Vanessa caught sight of him immediately. Their eyes met across the restaurant, and he saw something flash in her expression—surprise, maybe guilt, maybe something else.
She looked away.
The group settled at a large table in the center of the main floor—not Ethan's section, thankfully. Another server, Maria, took their orders while they talked and laughed, their voices carrying across the room.
Ethan tried to focus on his own tables, but his eyes kept drifting back to them.
To her.
Vanessa sat at the edge of the group, her phone in her hand, barely participating in the conversation. Marcus kept trying to pull her in, leaning close, touching her arm, but she subtly pulled away each time.
An hour passed.
Then another.
The group ordered more drinks. Then more. The noise level increased, and Maria started looking stressed.
Around 9:30, Marcus stood up suddenly, swaying slightly. "We should do shots!"
"We've already done shots," Madison said, laughing.
"More shots! Come on, it's a party!" He turned to Vanessa. "V, you've barely had anything. Catch up!"
"I'm good," Vanessa said quietly.
"Oh, come on. Don't be boring."
"Marcus, I said I'm good."
"Just one shot. For me."
"No."
Marcus's expression darkened. "What's your problem tonight?"
"I don't have a problem."
"You've been acting weird all week. Ignoring us. Hanging out with that—" He gestured vaguely toward the back of the restaurant. "That scholarship kid."
The table went quiet.
Ethan froze in the middle of refilling a water glass.
"Don't," Vanessa said, her voice low and warning.
"I'm just saying what everyone's thinking." Marcus's voice was getting louder. "You're too good for this now? Too good for us?"
"That's not what I said."
"Then prove it. Have a drink with your friends."
"I don't want to."
"Why not? Because your new charity case might see?" Marcus laughed, cruel and sharp. "Newsflash, V—he doesn't care about you. He's probably just using you for money or connections or whatever."
Vanessa stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "Don't talk about him like that."
"Why? You defending him now?"
"I'm defending basic human decency. Something you clearly know nothing about."
"Vanessa—" Sophie tried to intervene.
"No. I'm done." Vanessa grabbed her purse. "I shouldn't have come tonight."
"If you walk out that door," Marcus said, his voice cold, "we're done. All of us. You're out."
Vanessa looked at him. Then at Madison. At Sophie. At the faces of people she'd known for years.
"Fine," she said quietly. "I'm out."
She turned and walked toward the exit.
Marcus called after her, "You're making a huge mistake!"
But she didn't stop.
The door closed behind her.
The table erupted into conversation—some people laughing nervously, others looking shocked, Madison immediately starting damage control.
Ethan stood rooted to the spot, his heart pounding.
Then, without thinking, he set down his order pad and walked toward the back.
"Cross?" Danny called. "Where are you going?"
"Bathroom," Ethan lied. "Be right back."
He pushed through the kitchen, out the back door, into the alley.
And found Vanessa standing there, her back against the brick wall, arms wrapped around herself.
She was crying.