Brooklyn sat on her bed, staring at her phone. The screen glowed with Mani's last message:
"Dinner tomorrow? Just us. I'll pick you up at seven."
Her thumb hovered over the reply button. She could type "no" and be done with it. Simple. Clean. But instead, she tossed the phone aside with a groan, burying her face in her pillow.
Amanda, sprawled across her desk chair, spun lazily in circles. "So… are you gonna answer him, or keep sighing dramatically until I lose my mind?"
Brooklyn peeked at her through the pillow. "I don't want to say yes. But I don't want to hurt him either."
Amanda stopped spinning and gave her a flat look. "Girl. You don't owe Mani a yes just because he's persistent. You don't like him like that. End of story."
Brooklyn sat up, hugging her knees. "It's not that simple. He's been… kind. And when someone looks at you like you're the center of their world—it's hard to reject that."
Amanda softened. "Yeah, but kindness isn't love. And attention isn't choice. Who do you think about when no one's around?"
Brooklyn's lips parted, but no words came out. The answer was too obvious—and too complicated.
Later that evening, needing air, she slipped out for a walk across campus. The lampposts lit the pathways with soft pools of light, and the faint buzz of laughter from the dorms carried through the cool night.
She had just turned a corner when a familiar figure appeared ahead—tall, broad-shouldered, unmistakable even in the shadows.
Bryant.
He was leaning against the railing by the quad fountain, his hoodie pulled over his head. He looked lost in thought, staring at the water's ripples.
Brooklyn froze. She could turn back. Pretend she hadn't seen him. But her feet betrayed her, carrying her forward until he glanced up.
Their eyes met.
"Hey," he said softly.
"Hey," she echoed, her voice catching slightly.
For a moment, neither spoke. The air between them was heavy, full of everything they hadn't said since the café incident.
Finally, Bryant broke the silence. "So… I heard about Mani."
Brooklyn's chest tightened. "Of course you did. Campus doesn't keep secrets."
He pushed his hands into his pockets, his jaw tense. "You going?"
She bit her lip. "I don't know yet."
Something flickered in his eyes—hope, fear, jealousy all tangled together. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Brooklyn… don't let him pressure you into something you don't want."
Her throat went dry. "And what if I don't know what I want?"
Bryant's gaze locked onto hers, intense and unflinching. "Then don't choose yet. But if you do… choose for you. Not for him. Not for me."
The sincerity in his voice cracked something open inside her. She swallowed hard, her pulse racing as the space between them shrank.
"I hate this," she whispered. "I hate feeling like I'm stuck in the middle of a war I didn't ask for."
Bryant's hand twitched like he wanted to reach for her but stopped himself. Instead, he said quietly, "You're not a war, Brooklyn. You're the reason I'm fighting."
Her breath caught. For a heartbeat, the world stilled—just the two of them, the fountain's soft trickle in the background.
Then Brooklyn pulled back, overwhelmed. "I… I should go."
She hurried away before he could say another word, her chest aching with a confusing storm of emotions.
Behind her, Bryant watched her retreat, his fists clenched, his heart heavier than before.
And somewhere across campus, Mani was already planning tomorrow's dinner.