It was Monday morning, and Celeste's body was in class… but her mind?
Elsewhere.
The professor's voice was a steady hum at the front of the lecture hall, the projector clicking lazily through slides about post-modern art. Celeste didn't hear a word.
She sat in the middle row, chin propped in her palm, staring at the corner of the whiteboard like it held answers to her deepest frustrations.
Her thoughts drifted back to the night before.
⸻
Flashback – Last Night
The living room had been dark.
The table was still set—two plates. One untouched.
Celeste had waited.
And waited.
She heard footsteps earlier… the soft creak of Ash's door opening.
But the moment she stepped into the hallway, he disappeared again.
"He's avoiding me."
She leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, eyes narrowing.
He only left his room when she was in hers.
As if timed.
As if coordinated.
As if he were hiding.
"Coward," she muttered under her breath.
⸻
Back in class
"Seriously," a voice whispered beside her, dragging her back to earth.
Celeste blinked.
Her best friend, Lyka, was staring at her with one brow raised. "You've been making weird faces for the past five minutes."
Celeste leaned back in her chair.
"What? I was just thinking… how I want that sausage."
Lyka gagged. "Gross. It's too early for innuendos."
"I like sausage, the real one—wait, no. Actually… maybe both."
Lyka narrowed her eyes. "You're such a glutton."
Celeste just smirked lazily.
"Oh! Before I forget," Lyka added. "We're having a class dinner tonight. Department thing. Welcome party for the new first-years."
"So?" Celeste said flatly.
"So… you're coming."
"No way."
"Yes way. It's already decided."
Celeste groaned dramatically, slumping in her seat.
"I'm going home to see Ash. I want to see his face. His body. His eyes. His lips. Everything."
Lyka blinked. "Are you hearing yourself? You sound like a predator."
Celeste gave her the lazy look. "Worth it."
⸻
That Evening – Dinner Party
The restaurant buzzed with chatter and clinking cutlery. Lights were warm, music low. Celeste sat at the far end of the table, arms crossed, chin on her hand.
I should be home by now. I should be staring at Ash while he tries not to look at me.
Instead, she was here… with classmates… drinking soda and pretending to care about small talk.
"You look annoyed," Lyka said from across the table.
"I'm starving. And I hate everyone."
"That means the wine hasn't hit yet."
Right then, a new voice cut through the table.
"Hi—Celeste, right?"
She looked up.
A guy.
Tall. Sharp jawline. Messy dark hair. He looked too confident for a first-year.
"Yeah?" she said, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm Liam. Just started this year. You looked a little bored, so…" He smiled. "Thought I'd say hi."
Celeste blinked at him, unimpressed. "That's your opener?"
He laughed. "Okay, that was bad."
She sighed, then reached for the wine bottle. "You're lucky I'm bored enough to tolerate it."
⸻
Meanwhile – At the Apartment
Ash sat on the couch, knees drawn up, a blanket draped around his shoulders.
He checked the clock again.
10:42 p.m.
She should be back by now.
He glanced at the door.
Still locked.
No text. No call.
He told himself not to worry.
He told himself it wasn't his business.
She's a grown woman. You're not her babysitter. You're not her boyfriend. You're…
He sighed, curling further into the blanket.
But he couldn't ignore the tightness in his chest.
Where is she?
⸻
Back at the Dinner Party
Celeste was buzzed now.
Not wasted. But soft around the edges.
Liam had been harmless enough—funny, even—but now he was talking too much.
She grabbed her phone and blinked at the time. "Shit."
She never messaged Ash.
She stood up abruptly. "I have to go."
"Need a ride?" Liam offered.
"No. I need silence."
She walked off before he could follow.
——
The apartment door creaked open.
Ash looked up from the couch where he sat curled in a blanket, the blue glow of the television flickering across his soft features. He wasn't watching. Not really. Just… waiting.
He wouldn't admit that part.
Celeste stepped in, cheeks flushed, messy hair. Her keys jingled lazily in her hand, her stride a little too relaxed.
She'd been drinking.
Their eyes met.
He didn't speak.
She gave a breathy laugh. "Still awake, roomie?"
Ash blinked, adjusting his posture like he hadn't been curled up like a worried mother.
"Couldn't sleep," he said, voice soft.
"Because I wasn't here?"
"No."
She gave a playful pout. "Mean."
He stood slowly, avoiding her gaze. "You should drink some water."
He started toward the kitchen.
"No 'welcome home'?" she called.
"It's not like you were gone that long."
"Long enough to miss me," she muttered with a grin.
"You forgot to message," he said, filling a glass and handing it to her without looking.
She took it and sipped slowly.
"Oops," she said. "I got dragged to a student dinner party. Bunch of first-years and upperclassmen."
He sighed softly, then gave her a gentle smile.
"That's good then. You should enjoy your youthful days while you can."
Celeste narrowed her eyes slightly.
His tone was light. Too light.
The smile didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Didn't know I was aging out of the fun zone."
"That's not what I meant," he said quickly, looking away. "I just meant… you're young. You should go out. Have fun. Don't stay cooped up here."
He turned toward the kitchen as if that ended the conversation.
But Celeste watched him walk away, a smirk tugging at her lips.
So polite. So proper…
She tilted her head slightly, watching him for a few seconds longer than polite.
"Goodnight then, Ash," she said softly, lingering in the doorway.
He paused. Just briefly.
"Goodnight," he replied—without turning around.
She smiled to herself, then padded to her room.
——