Noora's giggles spilled into the hallway as she dragged Emma by the wrist. "Come on, come on! Before someone sees them hanging off the side like stray cats."
Emma still couldn't believe it—Jake, leaning casually on the balcony railing like it was a dinner invitation, Caleb perched like a proud monkey behind him, and Ryan… well, Ryan looked like he'd already regretted every decision that led him here.
They helped the boys inside, quiet as shadows, and tiptoed down the stairwell. Jake kept turning back to check on Emma, that familiar half-smile tugging at his lips. The others whispered and laughed as they slipped out the side door of the dorm, sneakers brushing wet grass.
Outside, the campus had gone to sleep. The buildings loomed like silent sentinels under the moonlight. Trees rustled in the breeze. Streetlamps hummed. And there, beneath the willow tree near the edge of the courtyard, they settled into a circle — like kids sneaking a sleepover under the stars.
Caleb flopped down first, tossing open a bag of spicy chips. "Ladies and gentlemen," he whispered dramatically, "welcome to the Midnight Picnic Society."
Ryan, pulling out a bottle of fizzy orange soda, added, "No official rules. Just food, stories, and no crying unless it's from laughter."
Noora passed Emma a packet of chocolate wafers. "Jake brought those for you. Said they're your favorite."
Emma blinked. "How did he—?"
Jake didn't even look up as he tore open a bag of plain salted chips. "You eat them during every lunch break. And you make a weird face if they have hazelnut in them. I paid attention."
Heat bloomed in Emma's cheeks. She couldn't tell if it was from the night air or him.
They passed snacks in a circle — soda cans hissing open, laughter bubbling out like fireflies in the dark. Caleb leaned back on his elbows, grinning. "You know, back in high school, Jake wouldn't even look at anyone. He was like a ghost."
"Oh?" Noora leaned in, eyes sparkling. "Do tell."
Jake groaned. "Please don't."
But they did.
"Jake the Ghost," Caleb began dramatically, "was a mystery. He never talked. Never smiled. Sat alone at lunch and solved equations like a machine."
Ryan chuckled. "The first week, we thought he didn't know how to speak. But one day, a teacher handed back a math test and Jake had aced it. Like, full marks. The class went silent. And Caleb, being Caleb, stood on a chair and shouted, 'THE MUTE HAS RISEN!'"
Emma burst into laughter, clutching her stomach.
Jake shook his head, face hiding behind one hand. "I hated all of you."
"You still do," Noora said sweetly, munching on a cookie. "But look where you are. Sneaking into girls' balconies and sharing snacks."
Caleb leaned closer to Emma. "He wouldn't even sit near girls. I once tried to set him up with a girl from literature class and he nearly bolted out the window."
Emma choked on her wafer.
Jake muttered, "It was a second-floor window, thank you very much."
Noora grinned at Emma. "You should've seen how many girls tried. Notes in lockers. Confessions after class. One even waited in the rain for two hours. And Jake? Completely uninterested."
Emma blinked. "Wait… he never—?"
"Nope." Noora narrowed her eyes like a cat with a secret. "Until now, I thought he didn't like anyone. But tonight—" she tilted her head— "he climbed three floors for you."
Emma's heart thudded softly.
"I confessed once," she said, so quiet only Noora heard. "He rejected me."
Noora stared at her, surprised. But then she smiled gently, like someone who had known Jake through all his stormy silences. "Yeah," she said softly, "he would've. If he thought you deserved someone better. That's just him."
The words sat with Emma. Heavy. Beautiful.
But before she could say anything, a sharp voice pierced the night.
"HEY! What are you doing out here?!"
A flashlight beam swept across the courtyard. Campus patrol.
"RUN!" Caleb shouted.
Screams of laughter exploded. Wafers flew. Soda cans rolled. They scattered like startled birds — sprinting through the grass, ducking behind benches, slipping on stone steps.
Emma ran with Noora's hand in hers, giggling as they dodged the beam. Jake reached for her wrist, guiding her toward the grove behind the library.
And then — raindrops.
Soft. Slow. Cool against flushed skin.
The moon disappeared behind a curtain of clouds.
The rain came faster — heavier, messier, soaking into clothes, plastering hair to faces. But no one stopped running.
Jake pulled Emma under a stone awning behind the science building. Both breathless. Laughing. Drenched.
They looked at each other — Emma's dress clinging to her like the petals of a windblown flower. Jake's hair dripping water down his cheekbones.
And something in the silence shifted.
The rain whispered against the world, like old lullabies. Emma stared into the distance — and saw flashes of her mother braiding her hair in the rain, her laughter, soft and distant. Jake looked up, and the sound of thunder stirred memories of his father's voice, deep and kind, teaching him how to fold paper boats that never sank.
Neither of them spoke. But they felt it.
The past brushing their skin like falling rain.
Finally, Jake reached out, brushing a lock of hair from Emma's face. "You're gonna catch a cold."
"You climbed a building for me," she whispered.
"I'd do it again."
The silence lingered — not awkward, not rushed.
Just full.
End of Part 16