reset button I needed.

All my family were absent during the days while they worked and I was unleashed to roam the city. Olly had stayed for two days to catch up with me, and then she had to return to her apartment. Tommy, who couldn't leave his placement in Texas, video-called us a handful of times to update us on his life.

Mom forced me to contact one of my old agents, who was pretty much like an aunt to me, and ask for modelling jobs. She was running dry on pretty images to share to WeChat. Then Aunty Wendy connected me with a clothing brand that was looking for a model.

The photoshoot had taken two days in a rented hotel room, and the bulk of it had required lying on a bed in layers of gauze, tulle and taffeta. One of my favourite modelling jobs to date, if I did say so myself.

I went twice for coffee dates with the few high school friends with whom I was still in touch. Kevin got tickets to some sort of Met After Dark photography event through industry connections. That had been fun if a little highbrow. I spent the night chasing down the canape-holding waiters and nodded along to in-depth discussions featuring words like chiaroscuro and sfumato. Kev had actually been more disinterested than me, discreetly spinning PokeStops on his phone screen hidden inside his blazer jacket.

But most of the time, while Kev, Mom and Dad worked, I did nothing at all. I watched social media videos, binge-watched Netflix shows and chewed my way through the snacks cupboard.

And that was utter bliss.

I'd had half a semester full of stress, glamour and intrigue at Halston already. I didn't need more of it when I came back to New York. If anything, when the opportunity to do nothing presented itself, I made the most I possibly could of it.

My first order of business when I arrived back in Halston over a week later was to prepare for the resumption of the semester. I'd stocked up on laundry powder and toiletries yesterday. Today, I would stock up on snacks and settle in to do some of my course readings. I only did my snack shopping at the small strip mall on the edge of town. There was a specific brand of shrimp crisps from my childhood that I consistently craved to fuel my midnight study sessions. So far, I hadn't found any store that sold it except for the only Asian discount supermarket in Halston, at the very end of the strip.

When I made my way back to the central entrance of the mall, two bags of non-perishable snacks clutched in my hands, a familiar silhouette caught my eye.

Quen was sitting at a table in the food court, resting his chin on his left hand and staring at his phone clutched in his right hand. He looked so poised like that. Though his head was bowed, letting his hair frame his eyebrows, his posture was calm and relaxed. Blissfully unaware, and utterly handsome. I felt my breath quicken at the sight of him.

The very last time I'd seen him, two weeks ago, he'd been sleeping soundly on his couch. Between now and then, neither of us had reached out. The only excuse I had to talk to him was Biophysics, but now that everyone was on fall break, I didn't even have that. Without the connecting link that lectures, tutorials and coursework provided, we'd fallen into radio silence.

Before I could even debate going up to him, something suddenly caught his attention. I saw him in profile, the way he jerked up at the sound of his name and smiled softly at the caller. Oh, how I wished I was on the receiving end of that smile.

Joelle sat down opposite him with two smoothies in her hands. She slid one over to Quen and kept the other for herself, sipping with a huge, starstruck smile on her lips. I didn't miss the way her eyes softened as she took a quick photograph of the drinks in front of her, Quen shielding his face from the camera.

Oh.

For a moment I didn't know what to think. My brain was having a hard time reconciling that my two tutorial buddies were meeting up outside of tutorials. I was pretty sure they hadn't been friends before I introduced them. Did they get together to go over the course material? Was this some sort of new wave study technique?

No. Occam's Razor. They were on a date. That was the simplest explanation, so that's what it was.

I suddenly felt heated all over, from within, like fiery raindrops were falling into the hissing pit of my gut. I felt scalded. I felt white-hot betrayal coursing through my veins, even though I had no reason to feel betrayed. He'd done absolutely nothing wrong.

We were just friends. And friendship required supporting him and wishing him well when he inevitably dated someone else. I hadn't realised how bitter friendship would taste. How irrationally angry I would feel seeing Quen sitting with Jo.

The anger was worse than Noah because there was no-one to direct this feeling at. It wasn't my fault for falling. It wasn't Quen's fault for not. And Jo was doing what any girl in her sane mind would—capitalising on the wonderful, intelligent man we had the shared pleasure of knowing.

Was I blind to not have seen this coming?

Quen had never liked me. There were so many instances to prove it. I'd detected his disapproval of the way I mirrored people in social settings—and my instincts were never wrong. Quen even agreed that we were in different leagues when I took him home on the night of Callum's party—though he didn't remember saying it.

And that only happened in the first place because he broke the sobriety pact we made. I'd been happy to have him abstain with me, to share something no matter how little. But it hadn't held the same weight to Quen. It was banter. Not a promise.

If he was dating Joelle after knowing her for a month, he would have done the same for me if he actually liked me. If I actually had a chance. Plain and simple.

I shouldn't have been so blindsided because this wasn't some cruel twist of fate. I knew he would find someone eventually. This was just life.

But did it have to be Jo? I had paved the way for Joelle to meet Quen when I invited her to sit with us. When I distanced myself from Quen. When I destroyed everything that made our friendship special—the memes, the debates, the secret study sessions tucked away in the library.

I couldn't believe the thing that was causing me such pain might have come about by my own hand. But then again, Joelle was sunny, kind and beautiful. Right. I could believe it.

I needed to get out of there before they spotted me. If they knew I'd seen them on a date, that might have given them the freedom to act even more couple-y around me when school resumed. I didn't know how recent this development was—if it had started at first sight or if it just came on over fall break—but I didn't have the nerve to look at it anymore.

It was already irrevocably burned into my brain, anyway.

I turned around just as I heard, "Hey, Krista!" Fuck. I let out a sharp breath while my back was turned to Quen and Joelle.

Before I turned around, I relaxed my features into a calm smile and that my eyes never met Quen's. I wasn't sure I could hide from him. It always felt like he saw right through my facades.

"Hey, guys," I greeted warmly, walking closer to their table. "How was your fall break?"

"It was okay," Joelle giggled. "We were a little bored with everyone gone from campus, but everyone's coming back now."

We.

It sounded like they'd only just gotten to know each other on this more personal level, and I started cursing myself for ever leaving Halston. As if somehow my mere presence could have stopped this.

"Right," I chuckled airily. I lifted my shopping bags higher into view, gesturing apologetically to them. "Well, I've got to get home. I'll see you two in class."

Jo nodded and waved to me, "See you, Krista."

I kept my head high as I walked away. I hadn't looked at Quen once during that exchange. I'd smiled at Jo and let my eyes skim over the smoothies in a natural glance around the table, but I'd avoided meeting his eyes. He hadn't said anything to me either, letting Jo speak for the both of them...

Ugh, I hated that.

But somehow, without seeing or hearing Quen at all, I'd still felt his gaze pinned squarely on my face.

I ignored Quen's messages all weekend.

There were only a few, about—shocker—school, and then they stopped.

Come Monday, I still didn't want to front him.

I couldn't. I knew he was still my friend, and he had no idea about the distress I was feeling. But if I had to spend another lecture sitting side by side with him, all I would think about was the way he and Joelle had been smiling at each other over a couple of smoothies. How cute. That was a real date. Not geeking out over Python scripts together.

So I made sure to get to Biophysics extra early because he still waited outside for me, no matter how late it made him. Therefore, today I had to go in before he even arrived. I found a seat near the back, on the left wing of the lecture hall, walking right to the end of the row. I knew people would fill up the seats between mine and the aisle, effectively sealing me away from Quen.

Quen walked in five minutes after the lecture started. I felt a stab of guilt, realising he must have waited long after the commencement of teaching before finally giving up on me. Would it have been less cruel to just message him I want you to leave me alone?

His head was bowed away from the hundreds of strange faces, looking only for a spare place to sit, stepping down the stairs in long strides; this must be what I looked like to him the first time we met. He'd taken pity on me that day. But I couldn't do the same for him now.

Quen was shoved right to the front due to the lack of empty seats further back. He slid in right in front of the professor, holding his hand up in an apologetic greeting.

For the next twenty minutes, Biophysics was the only thing that filled my brain. Then Quen started looking around the hall, clearly looking for me. He was confused, I gathered. If I didn't plan on coming to a lecture, I always messaged him to let him know. He probably wouldn't know why I had suddenly left him hanging, why I no longer wanted to spend lectures next to him.

The fifth time he looked back, quickly scanning the lecture hall, we met eyes.

It was just a split second that our gazes connected, but it felt like an eternity. Like time had slowed, with a subsonic boom, the minute we laid eyes on each other. I could explore this tableau infinitely. The spittle from the professor, hanging in midair. Pages frozen in the midst of being turned. Quen's brown eyes under harsh lighting, eyebrows pinched.

Time resumed.

His eyes widened in surprise, and then confusion. I could see it there, all those rows away, in his eyes. That burning question.

Why?

The same thing I wanted to ask him. Why? Why her, and not me? Pathetic. Petty. I knew. Yet I couldn't help feeling this way.

Quen tried to speak to me when the lecture ended. I'd thought ahead, though. That was part of the reason I'd chosen a seat near the back. Easy escape.

I'd somewhat underestimated his speed. He always—well, he used to—slow his pace for me when we walked to the library. But now he was utilising the full extent of his athletic speed, his ability to weave quickly between people, his long legs. In fact, he was in earshot just as I left the lecture room.

"Krista," Quen called. "Wait up—"

What did he want? What could he have said?

I'd been the one to find him on social media. I'd tried coaxing him into online conversation. For a month, I'd spent every minute of my spare time with him studying. I'd offered to go to his badminton games and marching rehearsals. I'd singled him out at work, without fail, dancing and talking to only him. I'd even suggested getting lunch—which he'd acknowledged himself wasn't innocent.

Viv was right. I spent so much time and energy on Quen, I deserved time and energy in return. But the only thing I had was a teddy bear and a painful collection of half-moments. Almost kisses. Whispering touches. Looks that spilled over into daydreaming. The friendship felt so unequal because I'd drop everything for him. I'd drive him anywhere, change anything about myself.

But he wouldn't even stay sober after making a pact.

After Noah blew his top at me at Callum's party, I'd started wondering exactly what he and Quentin had in common for their friendship to work. What exactly Quentin truly thought of me. If he was less Darcy and more Wickham. Maybe my dream guy was just a fantasy, after all.

I shook the increasingly caustic thoughts from my head. Quen was a good guy. I was just projecting my pain, looking for someone to blame.

But not anymore. This wasn't rocket science.

And I was done with waiting.

Ugh. So angsty. Much drama.

But seriously, if there were two lessons to take from this book, it would be:

1) tell them

2) hug your parents

Aimee x