“Relax, Alex,” Piper sighs, finally glancing up from her screen. Her eyes, magnified by thick-rimmed glasses, fix on me with an intensity that makes me want to check if my fly is open. “I’ll vacate the premises. Wouldn’t want my presence to interfere with…whatever this is.”
She grabs her laptop and shuffles past us, pausing to mutter, “For the record, she’s been listening to sad music on repeat for days. Fix it, hot friend, before I have to code a mute button for all her devices.”
With that, she’s gone, leaving Alex and me alone in the awkward silence of the hallway. I feel like I’ve just survived an encounter with the world’s most sarcastic AI.
Alex clears her throat, her face still flushed. “So, you were saying?”
I take a deep breath. After everything, she deserves the whole truth. “Look, after the protest, I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said—the wetlands, the wildlife corridors. You were right about a lot of things. So I did some research, spent a few nights working on an alternative plan.”
Her eyes soften slightly. “What kind of alternative plan?”
“One that could work for everyone.” I pull out my laptop, eager to show her. “See, if we shift the development east, we can preserve most of the wetland buffer. Add elevated walkways instead of paving. Implement green building practices. I even included a nature education center?—”
I stop, seeing her expression change. “What?”
“When did you show this to Reeves?”
“Yesterday. Alex, I really think this could?—”
“And what did he say?” There’s an edge to her voice now.
I swallow hard. If I’m doing this, I’m doing it right. No more half-truths. “He... he liked it. Said it came at the perfect time, actually. The protest had them worried about—” I stop, realizing too late what I’m admitting.
Alex goes very still. “Worried about what?”
“They were considering scrapping the project,” I admit. “Your protest worked, Alex. Maybe too well. But this way, we could still protect the wetlands and?—”
“So let me get this straight,” she cuts me off, her voice dangerously quiet. “The protest worked. They were going to cancel it. And you just... handed them a solution?”
“Alex, please,” I plead, reaching out to her. “I was trying to find a compromise that would protect what matters to you?—”
“What matters to me?” Her laugh is hollow. “What matters to me is that we almost won. You wanted them to go ahead with the project?”
“No,fuck, that’s not—” I start, but Alex cuts me off.
“So now it’s going ahead because of you?” Her voice rises with each word, and I swear I can see steam coming out of her ears. “After everything I fought for, you just... what? Decided to play the hero? Tried to score some points with Reeves?”
“Alex, you’re not listening to me!” I plead, desperation making my voice crack. She’s slipping away, and I can’t find the right words to make her understand. I risked everything forher—my standing with Dr. Reeves, my grades, maybe even my future in the program. One wrong word to Reeves and he could have tanked my entire academic career. But I didn’t care. I did it anyway, because seeing her passionate about something, seeing her fight for what she believes in... it made me want to be better. Made me want to find real solutions.
And that terrifies me. Fucking terrifies me.
When did I become the guy who’d risk everything just to see one girl smile? When did Alex’s opinion start mattering more than my carefully planned future? When did I start measuring every decision by whether it would make her proud or disappointed?
The hurt in her eyes is like a kick to the balls. “For a moment there, I actually thought you understood, Freddie. I thought you cared. But I guess you care more about impressing Dr. Reeves, huh?”
I want to laugh at the irony. If she only knew how little I cared about impressing Reeves compared to impressing her. How I agonized over this proposal, trying to find a solution that would make her proud. But it backfired. Like everything else between us.
“That’s not—” I start, but she’s building up steam, her words coming faster and sharper.
“You know what? Save it. I’m done with your excuses, done with?—”
Something in me snaps. She’s not listening, I’m panicking, and suddenly I’m doing the one thing we promised never to do again. Because I’d rather have her hate me than this—than this constant awareness of her, than this need to make her proud, than this terrifying realization that I’d risk everything just to see her smile. Better to burn it all down now than admit how much power she has over me.
Before I can stop myself—before I can think—I grab her waist and kiss her. Maybe it’s the frustration of her not listening, or the way she’s looking at me like I’m the enemy. For one heart-stopping moment, she responds, her hands coming up to my chest. Then she shoves me back, hard.
“What are you doing?” Her voice shakes. “We agreed—no more kissing. We’re just friends, Freddie. That’s what we decided.”
“What?” I force a laugh, even as shame and hurt war in my chest. “You don’t want to kiss me now? You were throwing yourself at me before.”
