~Karla's POV~
By the time I get home, my blazer is halfway off before I've even closed the door.
The apartment smells faintly like Tessa's lavender room spray and leftover takeout. A weird mix. Somehow comforting.
She's curled up on the couch, barefoot in an oversized tee, watching something chaotic on TV, probably a reality show she claims to hate but never misses.
"Hey, CEO energy," she calls without looking up. "How'd it go?"
I toss my bag on the armchair and sink to the floor with a groan. "It actually… went well. Like, really well."
Tessa mutes the TV and spins toward me, eyes lighting up. "No way. Wait, did Mr. Ice Prince Vale smile? Did he give you a slow, dramatic nod of approval?"
I laugh. "Something like that. And Marissa from Winterwell actually shook my hand. Said I have a 'strong voice.'"
Tessa gasps like I just announced I was running for president. "That's amazing, Karla! Look at you, being all accomplished and professional. Are we proud? We're proud."
She throws a pillow at me in celebration.
I catch it, and then my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Buzz. Buzz.
I pull it out without thinking.
Unknown Number
You really did kill it today.
I meant what I said—you're good at this.
Also, did you ever eat lunch? I forgot to ask.
I blink at the message. Then blink again.
Tessa notices instantly. Her sixth sense for drama activates like a bloodhound.
"Who's that?" she asks, sliding closer.
I tilt my phone toward her.
She squints. Then gasps. "Liam?! Wait, wait—how did he get your number?"
I stare at the screen, confused. "I… have no idea."
She grins like she just cracked a secret code. "Oh my God. He likes you."
"He probably just got it from the team contact sheet," I say, but even I don't sound convinced.
"He asked if you ate lunch. That is boyfriend-level concern. You're being soft-launched."
I roll my eyes, biting back a smile. "You're impossible."
"I ship this. I've been waiting for a subplot."
I type back, thumbs hesitating for half a second before I hit send.
KARLA:
Thanks. And yes, I eventually ate… does coffee count?
Three dots appear.
He's already typing.
Tessa is now halfway on my lap, peeking over my shoulder like a nosy sibling.
"I'm emotionally invested in this now," she whispers.
I don't answer.
I'm too busy trying not to smile.
Liam replies almost immediately.
LIAM:
Not officially, but I'll allow it.
I owe you a real lunch next week. Deal? I stare at the screen.
Not flirty. Not pushy. just… kind. Simple. Thoughtful.
KARLA:
Deal. But only if I don't collapse from school overload first.
LIAM:
Then I'll bring snacks. Lifesaving snacks.
Seriously, you crushed it today. You deserve some room to breathe.
I don't know how to respond to that.
Not because it's too much. But because it's exactly enough.
I lock my phone and sit back against the couch, a long sigh spilling out of me like steam.
Tessa wiggles her brows. "He's bringing you snacks? Girl. That's the modern-day love language."
I roll my eyes, blushing. "It's not like that."
"Sure. Keep telling yourself that while you're smiling at your phone like a character in a YA romance."
But for once, I don't argue.
Because maybe… it is kind of like that.
********
The apartment is bathed in warm, golden light, the sun spilling through the gauzy curtains in the kitchen. A kettle whistles softly, and the scent of toast lingers in the air.
I'm at the bathroom mirror, hair up in a claw clip, brushing mascara through lashes that do not want to cooperate.
Tessa walks past behind me in the mirror, already dressed in her weekend "cute-but-lazy" uniform: oversized denim jacket, black leggings, and that same pair of platform sneakers she swears make her feel taller and more powerful.
"Are you actually doing makeup for class?" she teases, sipping from her mismatched mug.
I shrug. "Bare minimum. I have a lecture and a group session today. I don't want to look like I just rolled out of a coma."
She leans on the bathroom doorframe. "I like how we're both pretending Saturday classes are a choice."
"Everything is a choice," I mumble through lip balm, "except tuition deadlines."
We laugh as we finish up, grabbing backpacks, notebooks, and the last bits of dignity we can muster for a weekend school day.
Before we leave, Tessa pauses by the door, one hand on the knob, the other fiddling with her keychain.
"You seem… lighter," she says, not looking at me. "Like maybe this week didn't kill you after all."
I look at her, surprised.
Then I nod. "Yeah. It was a lot. But I think I needed it."
She smiles. "That's the thing about chaos. Sometimes it carves out something good."
"Wow," I say. "Deep for 8 a.m."
"I had half a croissant and two sips of black coffee. I'm basically a philosopher now."
We head out together, steps in sync, the city already buzzing beneath our feet.
And for once, I don't dread the day ahead.
Campus on a Saturday feels like a ghost town with a coffee addiction.
Everything is a little slower, a little quieter—fewer students, more yawns, and a lot more oversized hoodies. Tessa and I split up after grabbing bagels from the food cart near the front gates. She has a creative writing workshop; I have a three-hour media literacy lecture that somehow manages to feel both too long and not long enough for how much material we're supposed to absorb.
I slide into a seat near the back, pull out my laptop, and start typing notes half on autopilot. My brain's still juggling work thoughts, class reminders, and something else entirely:
Liam's message from last night.
Deal.
Lifesaving snacks.
You crushed it today.
I don't know what to make of it. I don't know if I want to make anything of it.
Not yet.
By the time we finish our second class in the late afternoon, I find Tessa outside under one of the old trees near the west quad, sitting on a stone bench, sketching in her notebook like the artsy cliché she's proud to be.
"Ready to go?" I ask.
She glances up, stretching. "If I don't move soon, my spine will become part of this bench."
******
Back at the apartment, the sky outside is streaked with lilac and fading gold. I toss my shoes off, kick back on the couch, and rest my eyes for what's supposed to be ten minutes… which becomes twenty.
Then....
Buzz.Buzz....
I blink awake, grabbing my phone lazily. The notification lights up:
LIAM
Okay, hear me out…
There's this tiny coffee shop near Central Park. Not too loud. Insanely good muffins.
Let me buy you a non-stress coffee tomorrow.
My heart skips, betraying me for exactly one second.
Then, Tessa appears out of nowhere like she has radar for boy texts.
She gasps. "IS THAT LIAM?"
"Give me that!" I try to angle the phone away, but she snatches it.
Her voice shoots up three octaves. "Oh my God, oh my God, I told you he was into you. This is a DATE. An actual, muffin-included, coffee DATE."
I yank my phone back. "Tess, seriously—calm down."
"You calm up!" she shouts dramatically, flopping next to me. "You like him. Just admit it."
"I don't," I say too fast. "I mean… I can't. I'm not ready for a love story. I barely have time to breathe. I need to focus, on work, on school and on keeping myself sane."
She softens a little, sitting upright. "I get it. But sometimes people don't show up to distract you. Sometimes they show up to remind you you're allowed to have joy."
I exhale and look at the message again.
Coffee. Just coffee.
Not a love story.
Not yet.
Just... a pause.