Four hours later, Grey and Sam were walking home side-by-side, their steps slow and heavy from the long day.
"That exam was the easiest I've ever had," Sam boasted, wearing a satisfied smirk. "I barely broke a sweat."
Grey raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at his lips, though his mind was elsewhere.
"Mine was a bit tougher," he muttered. "Lydia's a tough nut to crack."
Then, after a pause, Grey added, "Speaking of Lydia... I need a favor."
Sam's eyes lit up with curiosity. "What's up, bro? You know I got you."
Grey hesitated, clearly unsure how to say what was on his mind. But remembering Lydia's teasing ultimatum, he sighed.
"Well... Lydia's kind of mad at me," he admitted. "I've been ignoring her lately. So I asked her to come with me to the gala, just to make up for it. But she didn't take it well. Said I needed to ask her properly. Gave me two days to figure it out."
He glanced sideways at Sam, hoping for a spark of advice. Sam's expression shifted from surprised to outright amused.
"Wait... so you tried to ask her out, and she basically turned you down 'cause your approach was trash?"
He burst out laughing. "That's priceless."
Grey glared at him. "Come on, Sam. Not helping."
Sam wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, still chuckling. "Bro, you're hopeless. Have you ever asked a girl out before?"
Grey didn't respond.
"That's what I thought." Sam laughed again. "You've never dated. That's the problem!"
"Seriously, man. I don't need your commentary. I need help," Grey groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
Sam calmed down, though his tone stayed teasing. "Alright, alright. Look, I get it. You're smart, you ace every exam, you write books that probably put geniuses to sleep, but when it comes to girls, you're in uncharted territory."
He leaned in a little, more serious now.
"If you really want her to say yes, ask her like you mean it. Not like you're fixing a mistake. Be honest. Be sweet, for once. Ask her because you want to go with her. That's the key."
Grey looked down, uncertainty clouding his face. "I don't even know what I want right now... But I'll figure it out. I always do."
Sam gave him a knowing nod, understanding more than he let on. "You will. Just trust yourself."
Grey was quiet for a beat before changing the subject. "Actually... I've got some news."
Sam turned, curious.
"My parents... they're leaving. For good. They're moving to Madagascar for a family business deal, and they've handed the house over to me. Well, to me and Ken."
Sam blinked. "Wait—what? They're leaving leaving?"
Grey nodded. "Yeah. In two days."
A grin stretched across Sam's face. "That's wild, man. You're finally free. No more living under their rules."
Grey allowed himself a small smile. "It's strange. I always dreamed about moving out, getting my own place... and now they're the ones leaving instead. I don't know what to make of it."
Sam nudged him. "Make the most of it. You're in control now."
Grey nodded slowly. "Yeah. Better than being micromanaged every day, that's for sure."
Sam's grin widened. "Exactly. You should come over to my place tonight. We'll celebrate—energy drinks on me," he added with a wink, knowing Grey didn't drink alcohol.
Grey laughed. "Yeah, maybe I do need a break."
They walked in silence for a while, the weight of the day finally starting to lift.
Then Sam added, "You've got a fresh start now, man. Maybe even enough space to bring a girl home. Just sayin'."
Grey rolled his eyes, but a genuine smile tugged at his lips. "Sure. Right after I figure out how to actually ask Lydia out."
That evening, Grey arrived at Sam's apartment feeling a strange mix of excitement and nerves. The living room glowed with soft LED lights, and music floated through the air—upbeat, light, nothing too crazy.
Sam handed him an energy drink the moment he walked in. "Welcome to freedom, my man. Cheers!"
Grey raised the can in a lazy salute. "Thanks. But it's gonna take more than caffeine to convince me this is real."
Sam laughed. "Just give it time. Tonight's about relaxing. You earned it."
The apartment was large but cozy, minimalist in design. Bookshelves lined the walls, bean bags and low tables scattered throughout the space. Sam had only invited a handful of close friends—a chill gathering, not one of those loud college blowouts Grey always avoided.
Grey took a seat on a bean bag, letting the music and quiet conversations ease his mind. Sam drifted through the room, playing host, while Grey let himself decompress.
Eventually, he found himself in a small circle of guests, half-listening to a conversation about books. That's when Ella—one of their classmates—turned to him, her tone playful.
"So, you're the mysterious writer Sam keeps mentioning," she said, sipping her drink. "What do you write? Lemme guess—overly dramatic spy thrillers with tortured heroes?"
Grey chuckled. "Close enough. Sci-fi, mystery, maybe a little espionage. I've got a thing for dual personalities. Split lives. Hidden powers. That sort of thing."
Ella raised a brow. "Sounds intense. Bet you've got notebooks full of deep metaphors and tragic plot twists."
Sam, overhearing, jumped in. "He's got entire hard drives full. Trust me, he spends more time reading than breathing. That's why he doesn't date."
Grey gave him a side-eye. "Appreciate the endorsement, Sam."
Ella laughed, clearly entertained. "You don't date? Really? That's hard to believe. You're not exactly socially awkward."
Grey shrugged, adjusting his grip on his drink. "Maybe I've just been... focused."
Sam stood up, adopting a mock-philosopher tone. "He's not scared of girls—he's scared of distractions. Big difference."
"Not scared," Grey corrected firmly. "Just... selective with where I invest my time."
Ella tilted her head. "Hmm. That's fair. But I think you've got more game than you're letting on."
Grey smiled faintly but said nothing. For once, he let himself just exist in the moment, surrounded by people, music, and a calm sense of freedom.
Tomorrow, he'd worry about Lydia. Tonight, he could breathe.