I flinch. “That’s not fair.”
“Maybe not,” he agrees as he exhales through his nose. “But that doesn’t make it less true. And I’m not mad. I like you—a lot. You’re funny, you’re kind, and you’re stupidly good in bed, which, I’m not going to lie, was where I was hoping tonight would end. But I’m also not blind, and I’m not interested in competing with someone who isn’t even in the room. I won’t be the guy you’re half-thinking about while you’re wishing you were somewhere else.”
The words hit like a quiet slap, and I stare at the scarred wood of the bar top, thumb tracing the edge of my phone. Even now, faced with the accusation, I can’t stop myself from searching for his response, but the screen is still dark.
“You’re in love with him,” Jaden says, hitting me point blank with the words.
A panicked laugh barks out of me. “Come on. That’s not—”
“Don’t.” He holds up a hand. “Don’t do the denial thing. Not with me. You’ve been doing it since I met you, and honestly, I’m exhausted for us both.”
I want to tell him he’s wrong, that Eric’s my best friend, but that’s all it is. That it’s all itcanbe, because admitting otherwise means admitting too many otherthings. It means accepting the way my chest aches when he’s quiet is more than it should be, and that the way I miss him isn’t natural. It means saying out loud that I pick up on things that go far beyond friendship.
Because I do.
I noticeeverything. How his eyes get tired after a long day, and how the callus on his thumb scrapes over my forearm when he touches me. I recognize the exact pitch of his laugh when he’s really happy, and the way his nose wrinkles when he’s pissed.
I want to argue that people notice those things with their friends. That what we have isdeepfriendship, sure. The kind that lasts, but notmore.
But the lie tastes sour without even speaking it out loud.
Because when I picture Eric tonight—alone in his dorm, overthinking everything like he always does—I don’t just feel worried.
I feelhollow.
Like part of me is missing, and like I should be there, not here.
Jaden’s voice softens. “You don’t have to say it out loud. But you should probably say it to yourself. Or to him.”
I swallow, forcing it through a throat that is suddenly far too tight. “He’s straight, Jaden. I’m not going toruin our friendship because I caught feelings when I knew better.”
Jaden watches me for a moment longer, then nods once, like he’s accepting something he already knew. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay,” he repeats as he pushes off the bar and straightens his shirt. “I’m not going to fight for a spot that’s already taken. You deserve to figure this out—whatever it is—without me standing in the way.” He leans in and presses a quick, soft kiss to my cheek. “Text me when you’re ready to be all here with someone. Or don’t. Just… be honest with yourself first. You owe yourself that much.”
Then he’s moving through the crowd and disappearing into the sea of bodies, leaving me alone at the bar with my untouched drink and a phone that still won’t light up.
My thumb hovers over Eric’s name, and the read receipt stares back.
I type, delete, then type again before I settle on something.
You still up?
The message flies off into the void, and just like last time, he reads it immediately. But there are still no dots to show he’s typing. There’s no reply, just the bass thumping and the ache in my chest that won’t quit.
I close my eyes.
Jaden’s right.
I’ve been in love with him for longer than I’ve let myself admit.
And the denial is starting to crack.
ProfessorTjirinodsasI walk into the lecture hall and slide into my usual seat, but the one beside me is noticeably empty.
Eric walks in three minutes before class starts with his hood up and his backpack slung carelessly over one shoulder. He doesn’t acknowledge me. Hell, he doesn’t even spare me a glance as he heads straight for a seat three rows ahead and drops into the chair like he’s carrying extra gravity. I stare at the back of his head, trying to pinpoint where his hostility is coming from.
