I forced myself upright, gripping the edge of the wall to steady my trembling hands. Tears threatened to spill, but I clenched my jaw—no, I couldn't let them see me cry. Not here. Not now.
I headed back to the dorm, my footsteps heavy. The hot weather pressed down on me, but I pulled my hoodie tighter, covering myself as if it could shield me from everything. Once inside, I took a long, hot shower, letting the steamy water wash away the shame and pain, even if just for a little while.
Dressed in my hoodie, I returned to my next class, burying my face in a book to drown out the world. I told myself I just had to get through this—just one more step, one more exam, one more day. All I needed was to graduate. That was my only goal now.
Time slipped by unnoticed. When I finally looked up from my notes, the classroom was empty. Darkness had fallen outside, and my stomach was growling loud enough to shame me. I packed up my things slowly, feeling the quiet loneliness settle over me like a shroud.
As I stepped outside the building, the campus felt like haunted ground—silent, oppressive. But then, distant booming sounds shattered the eerie calm, making me jump. My curiosity piqued. A party? Out here?
I followed the noise and found myself near the grassy field and the lake, where the music thumped loudly, and laughter echoed into the night. The scene was lively, chaotic—so different from the world I'd been trying to escape.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed sharply in my pocket. I froze, heart pounding, and answered.
"Marge, where are you?" Kelsey's voice burst out, drowned in the loud music, shouts, and laughter. She was probably at that wild party, just like I suspected.
"Going home to the dorm," I said, my voice lazy, almost resigned.
"You didn't get the memo?" she asked, her tone loud but teasing, trying to cut through the noise.
"No, I never got one," I replied, a hint of bitterness creeping into my voice.
"Then you better get your ass here!" Kelsey's voice rang through my phone, sharp and demanding.
I hesitated, feeling the weight of her insistence, but the last thing I wanted was to mingle with people who made me feel like an outcast. Knowing Kelsey wouldn't give up easily, I lied—said I'd find her, even though all I wanted was to be left alone.
When I finally pushed open the door of our room back in the dorm and stepped inside, I nearly jumped out of my skin. There, in the living room, someone was playing video games—completely absorbed, oblivious to my presence.
"Who the f**k are you?" I demanded, voice trembling slightly but trying to sound brave. I grabbed the umbrella near the door, clutching it like a makeshift weapon.
He didn't turn around. Instead, he waved a hand dismissively, still focused on his game. "I'm Hudson. Kelsey's friend. I asked permission to be here," he said, voice calm and casual.
Hudson? Crap. That was bad. He shouldn't see me like this—vulnerable and angry, ready to lash out. My mind raced.
"You better go! You're not supposed to be here!" I shouted, voice cracking with a mix of frustration and fear.
He finally paused his game and looked at me, eyes calm. "Marge, right? You don't seem to know me. I'm harmless… just… let me play here in peace," he said softly, as if trying to defuse a ticking bomb.
I knew I couldn't drag this out. Suspicion and tension hung heavy in the air. With a sigh, I turned away, heading to my side of the room. I changed into comfy sweatpants and pulled my hoodie over my head, hiding my face beneath the hood.
I wandered into the tiny kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets for something to eat. My fingers found a packet of ramen noodles. I turned on the stove and waited, the quiet hum filling the small space.
Just as I was about to start cooking, Hudson's voice drifted into the kitchen.
"Cook one for me, please."
I worked through the kitchen, dismissing his request with a quick thought—he'd do what he wanted anyway. Still, just to be safe, I cooked an extra bowl of ramen. Maybe it was silly, but I didn't want him to think I was inviting him to stay.
When I finished, I pulled out a chair and sat, tying my hair into a messy bun to keep it out of my face. I put a foot up on the chair, trying to enjoy a rare moment of peace, focusing on my noodles. The quiet was almost comforting—until a sudden screech of a chair being pulled out across from me shattered the moment.
I looked up through fogged glasses, blinking away the blur. Hudson, with a bowl in one hand and chopsticks in the other, had settled across from me. He took a big bite, slurping loudly, and started eating like we'd known each other forever. I quickly looked away, wary of making eye contact—he might recognize the exhaustion or sadness (or my identity) I was trying so hard to hide.
"Thanks for cooking," he mumbled between slurps, voice muffled but sincere.
I just nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
Then, out of nowhere, he asked, "How are you related to Kelsey again?"
I hesitated, then answered, "I'm her cousin," in a tone that sounded more indifferent than I felt.
"Oh, really? Cause you look somehow familiar," he said, crossing his arms and studying me like I was a puzzle he couldn't quite piece together.
I turned my head sideways, pretending to be absorbed in my noodles. "I look like everybody else," I said, voice flat. "You're not the first to say that."
He shrugged, finishing his ramen and standing up. Without asking, he took the pot to the sink and started washing the dishes—calm, methodical, almost too normal.
Hudson washing dishes? That was unexpected, to say the least.
"Why aren't you in the party?" I asked as I stood beside him to wash my own bowl and chopsticks.
He chuckled. "Oh, you want a conversation now? Well, I choose not to. I'm the last person they want to see there."
"And why's that?" I asked but suddenly he took the bowl and chopsticks from my hand, gently brushing my hand. I internally stopped myself not to feel anything. I could feel my pulse pounding in my ears, my heart racing faster than it should.
He leaned in slightly, whispering in that low, almost teasing voice, "...because it's an engagement party party," he said, the words brushing against my skin like a warning.
I immediately stepped aside, putting a safe distance between us, my skin prickling from the close call. I wanted to brush it off, act like it didn't matter, but my mind was racing.
"Whose party?" I asked, voice steadier than I felt.
He shrugged then walked back to his game, as if his words didn't carry weight. "It seems you don't have any idea what's going on around here?"
I fished my phone from my pocket and scrolled through the school's private message board—an unfiltered space for students only, a place where rumors and secrets often spilled out.
A post caught my eye: "Come and celebrate in an amazing party and bonfire hunter x calixta engagement later at 9PM, you know where. snitches die. see ya."
I almost felt tears sting my own eyes, but I quickly blinked them away. It must hurt knowing that your ex was celebrating something so personal just down the street, while you sat here, alone, lost in your own pain. My chest tightened with sympathy for Hudson.
Quietly, I moved across the room and sat down beside him, the floor cold beneath me. I reached out and picked up the joystick, matching his grip. The game's music played softly in the background, but the silence between us was heavy with unspoken words.
"I had a bad day," I said softly, breaking the quiet. My voice felt small, almost fragile.
He wiped his face with the sleeve of his hoodie, and I saw the flicker of tears there—glittering and real. Without a word, he passed me a beer, and I accepted it, twisting open the fizzy can. I took a sip, feeling the bubbles tickle my nose.
Hudson clinked his can with mine, a small act of camaraderie. His voice was hoarse, almost cracking as he said, "Cheers to better days to come."
As the game's soundtrack played on, I realized that sometimes, just sharing a quiet moment with someone else who understood pain, even in silence, could be enough to keep going.