Author POV
The car ride back to the apartment was a familiar brand of loud, with Daisy and Andrew bickering in the back like unhinged twins while the others tried to survive.
Ryan was driving. Katherine had shotgun and full control of the AUX, which meant she was scrolling through three chaotic playlists and playing a game of "skip before the chorus" on every song.
Liam and Sarah were squished in the back, whispering sweet nothings that were occasionally drowned out by Daisy yelling, "I WAS NOT FLIRTING WITH THE WAITER, HE JUST HAD GOOD EYEBROWS."
Andrew: "His name was River and you literally told him your star sign."
Daisy: "That's basic social interaction, you Scorpio menace!"
Everyone groaned.
Amelia leaned her head against the window, the cool glass grounding her. The streetlights passed in a soft blur—her mind quieter than it had been in weeks.
Justin sat beside her in the back row, one arm lazily draped over the back of the seat—not touching her, but close.
He wasn't saying much. But his presence was steady. Quiet. Safe.
A few minutes passed.
Suddenly:
Katherine turned around dramatically. "Sooo... Justin and Amelia. Alone time. Rooftop garden. Vibes. Explain?"
Justin: "No comment."
Amelia: "He emotionally bullied me into finishing his coffee. That's it."
Andrew: "Gaslighting. Jail."
Daisy: "Lawsuit pending."
They all laughed.
Liam, from the middle seat: "You both came back... different, though. Happier."
Sarah nodded, then whispered (audibly), "They're emotionally entwined now. It's canon."
Amelia rolled her eyes, but Justin-he smiled. A quiet, rare smile.
As the dorms finally came into view, the chaos simmered to a low hum. The car slowed to a stop just outside the dorm gates.
Katherine jumped out first, all tired and giving up to even stand on her own. Daisy and Sarah were next, giggling their way out.
Amelia lingered for a second longer.
She opened the door, stepping out into the cool night.
Justin leaned slightly forward in his seat—just a little, just enough that their eyes met through the open car door.
It wasn't a long look.
But it landed.
Soft. Gentle. Unsure. Grateful.
Her lips curved—not a full smile, but something close. A little "thank you" just for him.
Justin gave the slightest nod. Like I heard you. I'm here.
And then she turned.
The girls disappeared into the dorm lobby.
Ryan started the car again.
Andrew: "So... now that we're alone, can we all admit Justin's falling—"
Justin: "You finish that sentence and you're out of this car."
Andrew, whispering to Liam: "Totally falling."
The boys drove into the night, the city lights behind them, and something unspoken growing quietly between one pair of hearts that weren't ready to name it yet.
But it was there.
And it was starting to feel like home.
Next Day,
Amelia POV
I don't know why everything looks different this morning.
Same hallway. Same flickering lights. Same posters peeling on the edges.
But it feels like the world's been tilted half a degree left, like I'm walking through a dream someone forgot to finish writing.
Maybe it's because I didn't sleep much.
Or maybe it's because of him.
I'm still carrying last night in my chest.
The chaos of everyone yelling over milkshakes.
Daisy fake-murdering Andrew with a straw.
Katherine filming like she's running a wildlife documentary.
The way the wind felt on my skin on that rooftop.
And him.
Justin.
Sitting next to me. Listening like no one ever had before.
Saying things that were too soft, too kind, too true.
Not asking for more. Just being there.
It's stupid how heavy it still sits in me.
Like I told him something fragile and forgot to take it back.
I stop outside the lecture hall.
Stare at the door.
I'm not nervous.
(That's a lie.)
I step in.
And there he is.
Already seated, tucked near the window, flipping through notes with the kind of frustration that says he's on page eight of a mental breakdown.
He's got this highlighter tucked behind his ear and his brows are doing that thing—scrunched, focused, like the textbook is trying to insult his intelligence and he's about to duel it.
And I should just walk past him, right?
Just head to my seat like I always do and pretend we're nothing new.
But I don't.
Because when I look at him now, I don't just see the guy from class or the one who tosses sarcastic remarks across the group chat. I see the boy who heard every broken part of me last night... and didn't look away.
I walk down the aisle.
My boots make this soft, stupid thudding sound on the floor and for some reason I'm aware of every step like it's choreographed.
He hasn't noticed me yet.
Still flipping pages, lips parted slightly, mouthing something under his breath like he's trying to translate alien math.
And then he looks up.
And we lock eyes.
Just for a second.
But it's... something.
Not a movie moment. Not dramatic. No music swelling or slow-motion breeze.
Just recognition.
Just: I remember.
Just: We're not strangers anymore.
He smiled. A little. And my heart did a thing. I won't say it was unexpected but it was something like UNEXPECTED unexpected.
It took me a moment to come back to reality from my delusion. I smiled back at him with gratitude and went to my seat.
Justin POV
I've been staring at the same paragraph for eight minutes.
Possibly nine.
The words keep sliding around on the page like they're in a language I used to speak before sleep deprivation rewired my brain. I underline a sentence for the third time and it still doesn't make sense.
I don't even know what I'm highlighting anymore. I'm just hoping it'll trick my brain into thinking I understand.
Spoiler: it won't.
The classroom's mostly empty. Just a few scattered people, some yawning into their notebooks, one guy fully asleep in the back. It's quiet enough that I can hear the soft ticking of the clock over the white noise in my head.
And then-
I hear footsteps.
I don't have to look up.
I already know it's her.
There's a shift in the air-barely anything, but enough. My fingers pause on the page. I look up just as she steps in.
Amelia.
Her hair's a little messier than usual. She's got coffee in her hand and a look on her face like she's not quite ready to exist today. But she walks like she's decided to anyway.
And then—
She sees me.
And smiles.
It's not big. Not loud.
Just a small, blink-and-you'll-miss-it kind of thing.
But I don't miss it.
I feel it in my chest like static under my ribs.
She doesn't say anything. Doesn't stop. Just makes her way to her seat—two rows back, far enough to pretend we're not anything.
And maybe we're not.
But it doesn't feel like nothing anymore.
I look back down at my notes, but my eyes don't track the words. All I can think about is the rooftop. The way she'd looked at me when she told me about Chicago. Her mom. The kind of wounds you don't say out loud unless you're either drunk or desperate or... trusting someone you really shouldn't.
But she told me anyway.
She gave me that piece of her like it didn't cost her anything.
But I know it did.
And now I'm just sitting here-textbook open, heart weirdly loud, and wondering why the hell I care so much.
I'm not the guy who gets tangled up in this stuff.
I don't chase people. I don't lean in. I stay in my lane.
So why did I stay up half the night thinking about how broken her voice sounded when she said, "She never really wanted a daughter like me."
And why does that tiny smile she gave me feel like it rewrote my entire morning?
This is bad.
I don't do messy.
And she is... the definition of complicated.
But still–
I glance over my shoulder at her.
She's flipping through her notebook, sipping her coffee. Calm. Composed.
Unbothered.
Meanwhile, I've apparently forgotten how to read about turbulent flow.
I stare at my notes again, trying to focus.
Nothing.
My pen taps twice on the desk before I give up pretending. Maybe I should ask her... Yes, we're good friends now... And friends do ask doubts to each other. I shouldn't hesitate.
Without thinking of the otherwise, I turn myself towards her and asked politely, "Hey, Amelia." I say keeping it casual. "Do you remember what this section means? 'Transition from laminar to turbulent flow? I've read it 5 times, already."
I hold my pen out like I'm just some tired guy asking for help.
But inside?
Inside I'm just hoping she doesn't mind me turning around.
That maybe she'll smile again.
That maybe whatever the hell this is... isn't just in my head.
Finally the weekend ends!! And Justin already asked our nerd Amelia a doubt! Let's see in the next chapter how Amelia feels about it. Will she behave normal? Or will she have butterflies in her stomach like us?
Please vote and comment if you liked this chapter. The next chapter will be updated soon. Take care, cuties 💙
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