Just as the conversation began to settle into a quiet ease, Harriet's attention was pulled by movement across the grassy quad. From the far side, striding purposefully in wedge sandals and an oversized university hoodie tied around her waist, came Cloe—one of Harriet's sorority sisters. Her glossy curls were tied up in a sky-high ponytail, and she waved with perfectly manicured fingers, a mischievous grin already stretched across her face.
Harriet's stomach dipped slightly. She knew that walk. Cloe was on a mission.
"Looks like your fan club's arrived." Jake said with a lazy grin, following Harriet's gaze.
Harriet huffed a quiet laugh, trying to suppress the warm flush blooming in her cheeks. "That's Cloe. She'll want a full debrief of where I've been for the past twenty minutes—and why I wasn't in the group chat responding to outfit suggestions for tonight's mixer."
Jake chuckled. "Sounds intense."
"Oh, it is." Harriet said, folding her arms loosely across her chest. "You miss one latte run and they act like you joined a rival cult."
"I can meet you tomorrow, though.." she added, adjusting the strap on her bag. "For studying. Library around eleven?"
Jake tilted his head, the edges of his smile tugging upward like he was amused by something she couldn't see. "Just so you know." he said, fishing casually into the pocket of his worn grey hoodie.
"I don't actually need help."
Harriet blinked, confused. "What? You don't?"
He pulled out a cigarette, holding it between two fingers like it was just another extension of his personality. "My grades are fine. I just agreed to the study partner thing so my mom would stop hovering around my business."
Harriet stared at him for a second, then let out a laugh that surprised even her.
"Are you serious? You had me thinking you were some poor lost soul failing in life.."
Jake shrugged, the picture of unapologetic rebellion. "Nah. Just playing the part."
"That is such a cliché bad boy trope," she said, smirking.
"Guilty." Jake said with a wink, then lit the cigarette with a flick of his lighter. The flame caught for a moment before he flicked it closed, and the scent of tobacco drifted softly on the breeze.
Harriet couldn't help but watch him for a second. The way the smoke curled lazily around his face, how he looked completely at ease in the world—as if nothing could touch him. His blonde hair caught glints of sun, windswept and untamed, and his posture was all lazy confidence. There was something frustratingly magnetic about him.
"Your mom must love that you're out here feeding your delinquent aesthetic." she said, teasing, though there was a flicker of curiosity beneath it.
"Oh, she's thrilled," Jake said dryly. "Head of the university, AND she's got a son who smokes on campus, but she'd be more thrilled if I dropped the smoking and joined the debate team. A real legacy of excellence. "
Harriet laughed again, a real, chest-deep kind of laugh she hadn't felt in a while.
Just then, Cloe reached her side, sliding a cheeky glance at Jake as she nudged Harriet's arm with a perfectly manicured finger.
"Um, hi? Who's this? And why are you hiding him from us?"
"And that's our cue! Goodbye Jake." Harriet smiled sarcastically, dragging Cloe away as they made their way back across the lawn to the sorority girls scattered.
The campus buzzed gently around them as Harriet and Cloe walked side by side along the cobbled path that wound through the center of the university. The sun was beginning to lower, casting a syrupy gold across the red-brick buildings and turning the trimmed hedges into long sloping shadows. A soft breeze rustled through the trees above, shaking a few leaves loose, and the air smelled faintly of late-summer grass and someone's spilled iced coffee.
Cloe had linked her arm through Harriet's the moment they'd stepped away from the admin building, and she hadn't stopped glancing sideways at her since.
"So.." she finally said, her tone syrupy-sweet and nose twitching with mischief, "Are we just not going to talk about the literal movie scene I just witnessed?"
Harriet gave her a confused look. "What movie scene?"
"The part where you're standing in golden sunlight, laughing with that absurdly attractive guy while he lights a cigarette and smirks like he's in a Dior ad."
Harriet groaned, a low, amused sound. "It wasn't like that."
"Was he or was he not the epitome of casually dangerous charm?"
"He's—" Harriet hesitated. "—Ms. Montez's son, Cloe."
Cloe stopped in her tracks, dragging Harriet to a halt with her. "She has a son?!"
Harriet nodded, adjusting the strap of her tote bag and chewing the inside of her cheek.
Cloe's jaw dropped. "You mean to tell me you were just out there flirting with the literal prince of this place and you didn't even blink?"
"I wasn't flirting!" Harriet said quickly, though the warmth rising in her face suggested otherwise. "We were just talking."
"Oh, my god." Cloe resumed walking, this time dragging Harriet faster. "I've never been more proud. You have to tell me everything."
Harriet laughed, shaking her head. "There's not much to tell. Ms. Montez called me into her office and he was already there. She thinks he needs a study partner and thought I'd be a good fit."
"Well, she's not wrong. You're a beauty and brains."
"I'm really not," Harriet said, her voice quieter now. "Last year was... really rough. I'm still catching up."
Cloe softened, giving Harriet's arm a gentle squeeze but letting the silence sit between them without prying. She knew better than to dig too deep too fast—Harriet had her layers, and some of them still bled if you peeled too quickly.
They passed a group of guys tossing a football across the lawn, voices loud and carefree. Beyond them, the elegant white-columned sorority houses loomed in the distance like a postcard.
"But him.." Cloe said, nudging again, "He's seriously hot. Like, criminally hot. And kind of had this devil-may-care vibe? He smokes. That's practically a cinematic cliché."
"And, FYI, if you end up falling for him, you're legally obligated to keep me updated every step of the way. I want slow-burn, I want angst, I want secret glances in the library. I want to be the maid of honour!"
"Please stop."
"I will never stop!" Cloe said solemnly. "This is the most exciting thing that's happened to me since they brought iced hazelnut oat milk lattes back to the café."
As they stepped into the foyer of the Kappa Kappa Chi house, the familiar scent of lavender spray and buttered popcorn greeted them like an old friend. Voices echoed from the kitchen, someone was laughing too loudly upstairs, and a spotify playlist hummed gently under it all.
Cloe hung her tote on the coat rack and turned back with an expectant grin, ready to keep the Jake conversation alive.
"Okay, so when are you seeing him next? Tomorrow? Can I watch from a distance like it's a live rom-com?"
But Harriet, now fully back in her own space and more grounded, shook her head firmly.
"Nope," she said, popping the 'p' as she opened the fridge to grab a crispy cold soda. "I'm not getting involved in any of that. Not this semester."
Cloe's eyes widened like she'd just heard the most scandalous thing all day. "Wait—what?"
Harriet shut the fridge and leaned against the counter. "I'm serious, Cloe.. No boys. No feelings. No weird glances across libraries or mysterious sons of headteachers with great hair."
Cloe raised a skeptical eyebrow, letting out a groan. "Since when?"
"Since always." Harriet muttered, cracking the soda open.
"I just... get ahead of myself." Harriet admitted, her voice softening. "I romanticise everything, even people who literally don't deserve it. It's like I can't help building entire narratives in my head after one semi-deep conversation."
Cloe tilted her head affectionately. "It's not a flaw, Hattie. You've got a big heart. You love easily. That's kind of beautiful."
"Yeah, well.." Harriet took a sip of her soda, "This semester, I'm giving my heart a sabbatical."
Cloe folded her arms and leaned on the counter beside her. "Even if that heart sabbatical involves not texting back the hot rebel who called you smart and bummed a cigarette like he stepped out of a novel?"
Harriet laughed, finally loosening her stance. "Even then."
Cloe grinned. "Alright, fine. But when you inevitably fall for him by Halloween, I reserve the right to say 'I told you so' every single day."
"You're impossible."
"I'm realistic."
The two girls burst into laughter, the tension between them fading as they wandered into the living room, sinking into the cushions with the ease of shared years and secret-keeping.