I finish packing up my lab equipment faster than usual, eager to get the hell out of here before anyone asks me what that was about.
The blood’s already dried into these weird rust-colored spots on the counter, and I make sure to wipe them down before I leave. Last thing I need is Professor Chen thinking I murdered my lab partner.
My backpack’s slung over one shoulder as I head for the door, pushing through into the hallway.
“Hey.”
I stop dead in my tracks.
Caroline’s leaning against the wall just outside the lab, and she’s clearly been waiting. Her brown hair falls over one shoulder, and she’s wearing jeans and a soft sweater that makes her look effortlessly beautiful in that way she always does.
“Oh hey, Caroline.” My brain’s already scrambling, trying to figure out what this is about. “You here about Portia?”
“No.” She pushes off the wall, taking a step closer.
I blink at her. “Wait, really?”
She smiles, and there’s something warm in it that makes my stomach flip. “Yeah. I wanted to talk with you.”
My grip tightens on my backpack strap. “About what?”
Caroline glances down the hallway, then back at me. Her eyes hold mine, and I can see something nervous flickering behind them. “Can we go somewhere more private? Maybe grab coffee or something?”
“Uh... Sure.”
She lights up at that, her smile widening. “Great! There’s that little café off campus. The one near the bookstore?”
“Yeah.”
We don’t say much on the walk over. The silence isn’t uncomfortable exactly, but there’s this weight to it that makes my nerves spike. Caroline keeps glancing at me like she’s working up the courage to say something, then looking away.
The café is one of those cozy places with mismatched furniture and the smell of espresso hanging thick in the air. Caroline orders some fancy latte while I get a regular coffee, black, because my hands are already shaking enough without adding more caffeine jitters to the mix.
We find a corner booth in the back, away from the handful of other students scattered around. The leather seat creaks as I slide in across from her. Caroline wraps her hands around her cup, staring down at the foam art on top.
I wait, sipping my coffee and trying not to let the anxiety crawl too far up my throat.
“So,” she starts, then stops. Her fingers tighten around the cup. “Saturday was... really good.”
“Yeah?”
“Really good, Vincent.” She finally looks up at me, and there’s something intense in her brown eyes. “Like, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”
The words hit me like a freight train, and suddenly my brain starts connecting dots.
Caroline. My high school crush. Sitting across from me saying she can’t stop thinking about fucking me.
And Ashley. Who I’m still fake dating. Who kissed me on her porch just yesterday. Who wants me to keep coming over for weekly dinners with her mom.
And Portia. Who literally got a nosebleed from looking at an AI picture of me in a dress. Who keeps trying to claim ownership of me like I’m some kind of collectible.
Three women. Three completely different weird scenarios. All happening simultaneously.
And I’m sitting here feeling lonely?
“Am I the problem...” I whisper, more to myself than anything.
Caroline’s head tilts slightly. “What?”
“Sorry.” I shake my head, forcing myself back to the present. “Nothing. Just thinking.”
She takes a sip of her latte, and I watch her throat work as she swallows. When she sets the cup down, there’s this determined look in her eyes that makes my pulse quicken.
“Are you and Ashley in an open relationship?”
“What?” The word comes out sharper than I intend, but it’s not because I didn’t hear her. It’s because I definitely wasn’t expecting that question.
Caroline leans forward slightly, her brown eyes searching my face. “Like, are you allowed to have a little side action?”
My throat goes dry. “Uhhhhh...”
Caroline’s lips curve into this soft smile, and she leans even closer across the table. “Because if you are, I really want to fuck again, Vincent.”
Heat floods my face so fast I probably look like a tomato. My coffee cup freezes halfway to my mouth, and I have to set it down before I spill it everywhere.
“I...” My voice cracks embarrassingly. “Is Dante okay with that?”
She shrugs, and there’s something almost dismissive in the gesture. “I didn’t ask him.” Her fingers trace the rim of her cup. “And I’m pretty sure he has things on the side he doesn’t tell me about.”
Part of me wants to take her offer purely to get back at Dante for calling me a loser while he was fucking someone he thought was my girlfriend.
But it just feels a bit icky.
Caroline’s still looking at me with those warm brown eyes, waiting for an answer. My mouth opens, trying to form words that make sense.
“I uhhh...”
A group of girls walks by our table, their laughter cutting through the café’s ambient noise. They’re talking about something, animated and loud, and I glance up automatically.
One of them stops dead in her tracks.
Ashley.
She’s frozen mid-step, her green eyes lock onto me. Her sandy blonde ponytail swings slightly as her head turns, taking in the scene. Me. Caroline. The intimate corner booth.
“Vince?”
“Ashley?”
Her gaze shifts to Caroline, and I watch something flicker across her face. Something sharp and tightly controlled.
“Oh, hey Caroline.” Ashley’s voice comes out neutral.
Caroline straightens up in her seat. “Hi, Ashley.”
Ashley waves goodbye to her friends, the gesture quick and dismissive. They exchange confused glances but keep walking. Then she’s sliding into the booth next to me, her thigh pressing against mine in the cramped space.
“You two are getting coffee together?” The question sounds casual, but there’s an edge underneath it that makes my stomach clench.
I can feel the tension radiating off Ashley’s body where she’s pressed against my side.
Caroline glances between us. “Yeah, we’re just chatting,” she says, her tone light. “I don’t have a class right now, and I ran into Vincent, so I asked him to get a coffee.”
The explanation sounds reasonable. Casual. But I can feel Ashley’s body go rigid next to mine.
“Oh,” Ashley says, and the single syllable carries weight I can’t quite decipher. “That’s nice. What’re you two talking about?”
Caroline shifts in her seat, her fingers playing with the edge of her coffee cup. “Oh, you know, just... the weather’s been nice lately. Getting colder, though.”
“Interesting.”
Caroline’s eyes flick between us again, and I watch her brown eyes register something. Understanding maybe. Or discomfort. She clears her throat softly and starts gathering her things.
“Well, I should probably get going,” she says, sliding out of the booth with practiced grace. “I’ll let the happy couple be alone together.”
“That’s kind of you.” Ashley says.
“Bye, Caroline,” I manage.
“Bye, Vincent. Bye, Ashley.”
Caroline walks away, her hair swaying behind her, and I watch her disappear through the café door. The bell chimes as it closes behind her.
Ashley doesn’t move.
I can feel her next to me, rigid and tense, her thigh still pressed against mine. The silence stretches out, growing heavier with each passing second.
“What’s wrong?” I finally ask.
Her head turns toward me. “Why were you getting coffee alone with Caroline?”
The question catches me off guard. “Why would it even matter?”
“Because we’re keeping up the facade, remember?” Her voice gets tighter. “We’re fake dating.”
I stare at her, confusion flooding through me. “I thought that was just for your mom at this point.”
Her jaw tightens. “You need to keep fake dating me so you can help me try again, remember?”
“I said no to that.” The words come out firm. “And also, if you want to fuck Dante again, Caroline basically just told me he’s actively cheating on her. So that’s honestly your best route.”
Ashley’s face contorts, her nose wrinkling like she just smelled something rotten. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
She shakes her head slowly, her ponytail swishing with the movement. “Well, uhhh...”
The silence stretches between us. She’s staring down at the table now, her fingers drumming against the wood surface. I watch her jaw work, like she’s chewing on words she can’t quite spit out.
Ashley takes a breath. “I need to confess something.”
“What is it?”
Her green eyes meet mine, and there’s something vulnerable in them that makes my stomach flip. “I’ve had stalkers on campus.”
My eyes go wide. “What?”
“Yeah. Multiple guys. They’d follow me around, wait outside my classes, send me weird messages.” Her voice gets quieter. “It was really scary, Vince.”
The protective instinct that flares up in my chest is immediate and overwhelming. “Ashley, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because we weren’t talking last year.” She says it so simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “But then... Once word got out that we were dating, they stopped bothering me.”
I stare at her, processing this information. The implications start clicking into place in my brain.
“So that’s why you want to keep the fake dating thing going,” I say slowly. “For protection.”
“Yeah.” She nods quickly, maybe a little too quickly. “I know it’s selfish to ask, but I just... I feel safe when people think I’m with you.”
Something about this feels off. But there’s no way Ashley would ever lie about something like this. Even if she can be a dick sometimes. Deep down I know she’s a good person.
Plus looking at her face, seeing the genuine fear flickering behind her eyes when she talks about the stalkers, how can I say no?
“Okay,” I hear myself say.
Her whole body relaxes against mine. “Really?”
“Yeah.” I run a hand through my hair, exhaustion creeping back in. “I mean, if it keeps you safe, then... yeah. We can keep pretending at school too.”
Her hand shoots out and grabs mine on the table, her fingers wrapping around my palm with desperate intensity.
“Thank you,” she breathes out with relief.
Her hand’s still gripping mine when she suddenly leans across the table, closing the distance between us.
Her lips press against mine before I can process what’s happening. The kiss is soft but insistent, and my brain short-circuits for a second.
I pull back, confusion flooding through me. “Ashley, what are you…”
“Vince, we need to play the part,” she says quickly, her green eyes darting around the café. “People are watching. We’re supposed to be dating, remember?”
I follow her gaze and catch a few students glancing our way, probably wondering what the drama is about.
“Yeah,” I breathe out. “Okay.”
I lift my hands to cup her face, my fingers sliding into the soft hair at the base of her ponytail. Her skin is warm under my palms, and I can feel her pulse jumping in her throat.
Then I kiss her back.
Her lips part slightly, and I taste the coffee she must have had earlier. She makes this small sound in the back of her throat that sends heat shooting down my spine.
My brain’s screaming at me that this is a bad idea, that I’m just setting myself up for more pain when this inevitably ends, too. But my body doesn’t care. My hands tighten in her hair, pulling her closer, and she shifts in the booth, pressing against my side.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing harder. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes slightly unfocused.
“That was good. Thank you.”
“Yeah…”