Maya spent Sunday at the campus café, textbook open, not reading. Every few minutes her mind pulled her back to Saturday — Jake's shoulders disappearing into the crowd, Brianna's arm looped through his, the way he'd stood there and said nothing.
Stop, she told herself. Just stop.
This was nothing more than a transaction that had gotten messy because she'd read too much into the late nights and shared secrets between them. Saturday had made it very clear. Whatever she thought was building between them, maybe it had been real. But it hadn't been enough for him.
She forced herself back to work. There was a midterm on Friday and it didn't care about her feelings. By the time she packed up and left, she'd almost convinced herself she was fine.
Monday was Monday. Maya went about her day, attending lectures, taking notes, moving through it on autopilot. By noon she'd almost convinced herself she was better.
She pushed open the door to their dorm room and found Elena cross-legged on her bed, face mask on, highlighter in hand. She looked up.
"You didn't eat this morning." It wasn't a question.
"I had a granola bar."
"That's not food." Elena pointed the highlighter at her. "You're coming to lunch with me. Get your jacket."
Fifteen minutes later they were in a booth at Café Margaux, a small French bistro on the east side of campus that most students walked past without noticing. Elena came here enough that the hostess knew her name.
Maya ordered the croque monsieur and a sparkling water. Elena got the salade niçoise.
They ate in silence for a moment. Then Elena looked up.
"Chloe texted me."
Maya's fork stilled. "I figured."
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
"Elena set down her fork.
"He's an idiot," she said. "And a coward. What happened at Homecoming — that's on him, not you."
Maya looked down at her plate.
"Feeling something for him doesn't make you stupid," Elena added, quieter. "It just makes you human."
Maya nodded once. If she said anything right now, she might end up crying.
Elena noticed her facial expression sour.
"Okay." She picked her fork back up. "I'm dropping it."
"Thank you."
"Dropped. Gone. Forgotten." She reached for her wine glass — then her phone buzzed. She glanced at it and groaned.
"What?" Maya asked.
"Hartwell. He just reassigned our entire presentation topic. Three weeks before the deadline. Apparently our original angle was, and I quote, insufficiently rigorous."
"That's insane."
"I've already drafted an email to the department head, which my mother is telling me not to send." She paused. "She called this morning, actually. Separate issue entirely."
"What kind of issue?"
"There's a dinner my grandmother is hosting in December." Elena picked up her wine glass. "Husband hunting, basically. She won't call it that obviously — she'll call it a family gathering. But the guest list will be full of men my mother considers suitable, and I'll be expected to smile and be charming." A pause. "I'm twenty years old and I have a presentation to rewrite."
"Elena."
"I know." She set the glass down. "I know."
Maya recognized the look on Elena's face and didn't push.
"What are you going to do about Hartwell?"
Elena's eyes lit up. "Potentially report him to the academic board."
"Elena."
"I said potentially."
Maya felt her mouth pull despite herself. Elena caught it immediately and pointed the fork at her.
"There it is."
"There what is?"
"Your real face. I've been waiting for it since you walked in."
Maya shook her head smiling, feeling better.
They stayed another hour. Elena talked more about Hartwell, the December dinner, and Maya just listened. She didn't have to say much. That was enough.
It was exactly what she needed.
---
Back at the room, Maya changed and sat on the edge of her bed.
The practice packet was still on her desk where she'd left it Saturday night.
Dr. Monroe's midterm was thirty percent of their grade. Whatever had happened, Jake still needed to pass. The packet was already done.
She grabbed it and left before she could talk herself out of it.
The walk to Thunderhawks Residence Hall felt longer than it should've. Maybe it actually was. Or maybe Maya was dragging her feet and blaming time for it.
Avoidance. She could probably write a paper on it. Cognitive Distortions in Post-Romantic Disillusionment. Maya Alvarez, author. Academic suicide, but at least it would be fascinating.
His dorm lay ahead. Maya had stopped being intimidated by it weeks ago. Now it just looked like a building.
She took the stairs to the third floor. The hallway was empty. Good.
She could drop off the packet and leave without running into anyone.
Without running into him.
Maya was ten feet from Jake's door when she heard voices coming from inside. The door was slightly ajar.
She'd just slide the notes under and text him later.
Then she heard her name.
"— spending a lot of time with that girl. What's her name? Maya?" Unfamiliar voice. One of his teammates.
Maya froze, her hand tightening on the folder.
"Yeah, I've seen you two in the library like every other night." Riley — she recognized his voice. Teasing. "What's going on there, man? Are you dating her?"
Maya's breath caught.
Dating her.
Was that what it looked like from the outside?
"It's not like that." Jake's voice. Maya's stomach dropped.
"Come on, Thompson." Riley, pressing now. "You're in the library until midnight with her and you expect us to believe it's just studying? I've seen the way you look at her, bro. You're into her."
Silence. Maya stopped breathing.
"It is just studying." Final. "Look, my dad's been on my ass about my grades. I needed a tutor. She's good at what she does. That's it."
The folder crumpled in Maya's grip.
So you're not into her?" A third voice. "Because if you're not, I might shoot my shot—"
"Jesus, Marcus." Riley now. "Have some tact."
"What? I'm just saying—"
"I'm not. She's a nobody. Just a tutor. Strictly business. I'm not into her."
The folder hit the floor.Papers scattered across the carpet.
The voices inside stopped.
Jake appeared in the doorway. She watched his face change to confusion at first, then fear.
"Maya—"
She's nobody.
"Maya, wait, let me—"
She turned and walked away."
"Maya! Please, let me explain—"
She hit the stairwell door with both hands and kept moving.
"Maya, please! It's not what you think!"
The door swung shut. She could still hear him — footsteps pounding down the stairs behind her.
"Maya, stop!"
Jake grabbed her arm halfway across the quad.
She yanked away. "Don't touch me."
"Maya, wait." He was out of breath, hair dishevelled. "I didn't — it wasn't — the guys were giving me a hard time and I—"
"Calling me nobody." Her voice came out steadier than she felt. "That's what you went with."
"I didn't mean it like that—"
"At Homecoming you said we were just in a class together." Voice quiet "I told myself you panicked maybe that's why." She looked at him. "And then tonight, nobody."
His mouth opened. Nothing came out.
"I was trying to—" He stopped. Started again. "My dad — there's so much pressure right now and Riley wouldn't drop it and I just said the first thing—" He exhaled. "That's not what you are to me. That's not even close to—"
"Then what am I?" Her voice cracked on it, just slightly. "Because from where I'm standing you've had two chances to say something true in front of other people, and both times you chose yourself."
"You do matter." He swallowed hard. "You're way more than—"
"Then why did it roll off your tongue so easily?" She stepped back. "Why not friend? Or it's complicated? Why was the easiest word nobody?"
He had no answer.
"I freaked out," he said finally. "I panicked. I know that's not good enough."
"No," she said. "It's not."
"I'll email you the rest of the notes for Monroe's exam. But that's it — no more sessions."
"You can't just—"
"I absolutely can. You paid for grade help. That's all this ever was, apparently. So we're even."
"Maya—"
"Get another tutor." She turned. "Plenty of them out there for a guy like you."
She crossed the quad without looking back and kept on walking.
Maya reached Spruce Hall and took the stairs. Her fingers were trembling — it took three tries to swipe her key card.
The room was empty. Elena's desk lamp was the only light.
She closed the door and locked it.
The sob caught her by surprise. It tore out of her ugly and raw. Her legs gave out and she slid down the door to the floor, curled into herself, body shaking.
She'd thought — God, she'd actually thought —
He'd told her things he said he'd never told anyone. About the panic attacks, the expectations, the noise in his head. She'd thought those things meant something. Now she wondered if they'd just been moments — nothing more.
She'd guarded it all carefully, maybe she'd just been a convenient ear.
Maya pressed her forehead to her knees and let herself cry. Really cry — the kind she hadn't done since the night before she left home. She gasped for air between sobs.
Her phone buzzed. She ignored it.
It buzzed again. And again.
Finally she pulled it out. Seven texts from Jake, rapid-fire.
Please let me explain
I'm sorry
I didn't mean it
You're not nobody
Maya please
I screwed up
Please talk to me
Maya's eyes blurred as she stared at the screen. Part of her wanted to respond. To hear him out.
But the tired part of her knew better. Words were cheap. And both times when it mattered, he'd chosen himself.
Nobody.
That was his truth.
She stared at his name on the screen for a long moment.
She blocked his number.