He never texted me back last night. Nogoodnight, nosorry I missed this, no three dots that showed he was even considering a response. Just the read receiptmocking me until I finally put my phone down at 2:30 a.m. and stared at the ceiling until it blurred.
Professor Tjiri starts the lecture, and I open my notebook but my pen doesn’t move. I’m too busy staring at Eric. He’s taking notes, but his shoulders are rigid and his foot is tapping under the desk in that restless pattern he gets when he’s pissed or anxious. It’s a song I know by heart.
Class drags by, and fifty minutes feels like three hours. When Tjiri finally dismisses us, Eric shoves his things into his bag with more force than necessary and heads for the door without waiting. I grab my stuff and scramble to follow, pulse already climbing.
He’s halfway down the hall as I push through the crowd. When I call his name, he doesn’t stop, just keeps walking like he didn’t hear me.
“Eric, come on,” I shout.
He hesitates at my tone, slowing his pace but never turning to face me. “My exam is next class and I really need to review. I can’t talk right now.”
“Bullshit.” I step in front of him, forcing him to stop. The hallway is emptying out, but a couple stragglers glance our way before hurrying past. “You ghosted me last night. What the hell was that about?”
He finally looks at me with red-rimmed eyes that tell me he didn’t sleep either. “I was busy.”
“Busy,” I say with a humorless laugh. “You got my texts, Eric. You read them…bothof them. You just chose not to answer.”
He shifts his weight, and the muscles in his jaw flex as he clenches it. “I didn’t feel like texting. That’s allowed, right? Or do I need permission now?”
“Don’t do that.” My voice drops as my frustration bleeds through. “Don’t act like I’m the one being unreasonable. You’ve never ignored me before, so what changed? What did I do?”
He looks away, glancing toward the stairwell like he’s calculating escape routes. “Nothing changed. I just didn’t feel like texting.”
I pause, watching the hard lines of his posture bunch further. “Are you stressed about exams? Is that what’s going on?”
“There’s nothinggoing on,” Eric insists as he takes a small step back. “I had practice notes to review, a paper to outline, and an exam to study for. Your obligatory check-in text wasn’t my top priority. I don’t have to be available 24/7.”
“Check-in text?” I repeat, the words stinging more than they should. “You have a lot going on and I wanted to make sure you were okay.That’swhat you call it?”
He finally meets my eyes, but he’s guarded. “Yeah. That’s what it feels like sometimes, D. Like I’m theguy you settle for when you’re not busy with someone else. Like I’m on standby. And last night I just… didn’t want to be on standby.”
I stare at him. “That’s not how it is.”
“Isn’t it?” he challenges. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks exactly like that. You go out with Jaden and have your fun, then when the date’s winding down, you remember me. So you shoot off a text to make yourself feel better.”
“That’snotwhy I text you,” I argue.
Eric shakes his head and glances away. “You’ve got everyone fighting for your attention, so maybe I was tired of forcing you to give it to me.”
“Forcingme?” I demand. “You don’t—”
“I needed a night where I didn’t feel like a backup plan.”
The hallway is almost empty now, with just us and the echo of his accusation. I swallow hard. “You’re twisting it,” I say quietly. “You know that’s not what you are to me.”
“Yeah, well, it feels like it sometimes.” He’s breathing fast as his eyes flick to the stairwell again, like he’s seconds from bolting. His hands are clenched, knuckles white around the strap of his bag.
He’s not giving me anything real. Just walls and deflection. Anger as armor.
“Do I really make you feel like that?”
He flinches like I’ve yelled, staring at the floor for a beat before looking back up at me. “Sometimes, yeah,” he admits. “You’ve just… it’s always been so easy for you to make friends, and it’s not that simple for me. You might have a dozen replacements for me waiting in the wings, but I don’t.”
“There are noreplacements, Eric. Are you serious right now?”
“There isalwayssomeone fighting for your time.Always.”
My heart stings at the thought that I’ve ever made him feel disposable, but another thought emerges from the guilt. “Do you know the last time we fought like this?” I ask gently.
