The walk home from the party was anything but quiet. Pearl's ears were already tired, but Frederick's mouth was on full speed.
"I got one chick's number tonight," he said proudly, dragging out his words like he was announcing a Grammy win. "That girl? Hot like damn!"
Pearl gave him a slow, sideways glance. "Wow. Impressive."
He didn't catch the sarcasm.
"I mean, if you keep up this pace," she added, "you'll probably end up as Crestville's official campus playboy. I should start printing flyers."
Frederick laughed, totally unbothered. "Better than being single and boring."
Pearl rolled her eyes so hard they nearly fell out. "You're exhausting."
When they got back to the house, Pearl didn't bother saying goodnight. She went straight to her tiny room, flopped onto the stiff mattress like a ragdoll, immediately falling asleep.
*Saturday.*
Normally her best reading day. But thanks to that wild welcome party full of shaking bodies and clouds of cigarette smoke, her study plan had been brutally murdered.
She sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, surrounded by scattered notebooks, an open textbook, and two half-drunken cups of tea—one already cold, the other forgotten in the chaos.
Somewhere across the hallway, Jason slammed a door shut. Typical.
She sighed and tried to focus. The page in front of her had been on the same paragraph for fifteen minutes. Something about cnidarians —but her brain was still stuck on that girl she met outside the party. Amanda. At least there was *someone* on this campus that didn't make her want to scream.
And Frederick...ugh.
She shook her head, whispering to herself, "Of all the guys to be stuck with…"
A message buzzed on her phone.
*Frederick:* *"What you reading, nerd?"*
She didn't reply.
*Frederick:* *"Let's go out later. Maybe Amanda has cute friends ;)"*
She threw her phone aside and grabbed her pen instead.
Maybe she needed a new plan. One that didn't involve boys who flirted like it was a full-time job.
A few minutes later, Jason walked out into the living room; the glow of his laptop screen lit his face in the dim apartment light. He placed his headphones on the table and leaned back in his chair.
"Don't you ever rest?" he asked, eyes on her.
She glanced up. "I do. Just not when I have three chapters to read by Monday." She resumed writing.
In his casual way, Jason smiled and said, "You bookworms will still fail if you don't balance life."
Pearl finally looked at him. "Better to fail trying than to fail partying."
He paused, standing in the doorway. The air between them changed—just for a second.
"Touché," he said quietly.
Later that afternoon, Pearl's phone buzzed with a message:
*Amanda:* Hey Pearl! That party was trash but so glad I met you there lol.
*Pearl:* Right?? I was already planning my escape five minutes in.
*Amanda:* Lmao same! Anyway, are you still staying with the guys?
*Pearl:* Yeah, Frederick and his brother. Awkward, but manageable.
*Amanda:* Soo … one of my coursemates needs a roommate. Off‑campus too. I told her about you. You interested?
*Pearl:* I might be. Tell me more?
She replied.
Pearl's heart skipped. The idea of having her own place kept circling in her head - no late‑night loud music, no feeling invisible.
*Amanda:* She's in Sociology too; nice building, small crowd. Rent splitted, pretty low. You'd be with one friendly guy and another girl. Interested?
*Pearl:* Thanks for thinking of me. I'll see.
She put her phone down and stared at the ceiling fan turning slowly, its hum reminding her of nights at the factory, squeezing into cramped dorms, waiting for her future. Here it was — the chance to change the script.
That evening, the apartment felt quieter than usual. Frederick was out with friends, Jason was in his room, and Pearl sat alone at the kitchen table, lit only by the single overhead bulb. She picked at leftover noodles and thought about the text exchange.
Jason emerged from his room, headphones again perched around his neck, playing games on his phone.
"You ever watch anything *normal*?" she asked, trying to break the silence.
He glanced up. "This *is* normal. People shooting people is therapeutic." He offered a half‑smile.
She shook her head. "That's a red flag, you know."
He laughed softly. "You're not as silent as I thought."
She leaned back. "You're not as cold as you pretend to be."
Jason stopped mid‑step. "I'm not pretending." His voice was a whisper. The words hung in the air. For the first time, Pearl noticed a flicker of something—something softer—in his eyes.
"Goodnight, Jason," she said quietly.
He nodded without turning his head. "Don't burn out with those books."
****
As she sat in her room.
Her thoughts drifted to Bryan—though she refused to dwell on him too much. He still hovered in the corners of her mind like an unfinished sentence.