Page 18

WILLOW

T he email is still open on my screen. I’ve already read it three times, but I’m staring at it like the words might magically change. Each line is burned into my brain.

Congratulations. We’re thrilled to welcome you to the Winter Abroad: Puerto Rico program. Attendance at orientation is mandatory. Please arrive on time.

I know what it says, front to back, side to side. But seeing it in writing makes it real, or more real than when I read it at the tail end of my interview with Blaise.

Blaise.

At least right now it makes sense why he’s on my mind since I should be focused on finishing my Senior Night hockey article.

The document sits open in another tab, a few paragraphs shy of completion.

But instead, I'm fixating on his face when I casually dropped that bombshell about being accepted to "something. "

I switch tabs and start adding more words to the Senior Night hockey article because I’m annoyed at myself for caring what Blaise Dalton thinks about anything I do.

Knox's quote about loyalty stares back at me.

I need to weave in Blaise's perspective, but every time I try to type his name, my fingers freeze.

"Focus, Willow," I mutter, reaching for my coffee mug only to find it empty.

I get up to refill it because the caffeine and the movement will clear my head. As my coffee maker starts doing its job, I pull out my phone and scroll to my messages with Ari.

Me: I got in. Puerto Rico is happening.

She responds immediately.

Ari: TOLD YOU SO!!!!!

Ari: When do you leave?

Me: January 5th. Right after the holidays. Orientation is tonight.

Ari: Cool and perfect timing to escape the winter blues.

Ari: Also, how'd the interview go?

I stare at her text. The coffee maker beeps behind me, signaling it's done, but I don't move right away.

Me: It was fine. Professional. Got what I needed.

The lie sits heavy between my thumbs and the screen. Nothing about that interview was fine. Nothing about sitting across from Blaise Dalton was professional, especially when he stared me down and admitted to having panic attacks.

My phone buzzes again.

Ari: That's Willow-speak for "something happened but I don't want to talk about it yet."

I roll my eyes.

Me: Nothing happened.

Me: Except he told me something personal.

Me: And we almost talked about That Night.

Me: But nothing happened.

I watch the typing bubbles appear and disappear three times before her response comes through.

Ari: THAT'S NOT NOTHING.

I sigh, grabbing my coffee mug and walking back to my desk. My phone buzzes again. Ari isn’t going to leave me alone.

Ari: Are you going to tell me what he said or do I have to interrogate you?

I consider ignoring her, but that would only make things worse. She'd probably show up at my door and demand that I answer her.

Me: He told me he has panic attacks. Including before games sometimes.

Me: And it’s one of the reasons why he's so methodical about everything.

I feel slightly bad for telling Ari about something Blaise suffers from, but who wouldn’t tell their best friend if they knew she wouldn’t spread it? I take a long sip of coffee, watching the bubbles appear and disappear again.

Ari: Wow. That's...not what I expected.

Ari: Did he say why he told YOU specifically?

I stare at my wall as I consider her question. Why HAD he told me? I'd pushed for something real, but I hadn't expected him to actually deliver.

Me: I asked him to say something real versus the corporate answers he was giving me.

Me: And then we kind of talked about the kiss.

Me: But my phone went off with the acceptance email about Puerto Rico.

Ari: WILLOW! You can't just drop that and not elaborate!

Ari: What did he say about the kiss??

With a heavy sigh, I run my hand across my face. He said it wasn't nothing. That there were lines you shouldn't cross. That it was complicated.

Me: Not much. Just excuses about why he pulled away.

Me: Knox. Timing. The usual bullshit.

Ari: And what did YOU say?

I groan. She knows me too well.

Me: I said they were bullshit excuses.

Ari: AND THEN??? I swear you’re worse than a season finale of any drama in primetime.

Me: And then nothing. My phone went off, I told him I got accepted to "something," and I left.

Three dots appear, then disappear, then appear again. This is becoming a habit.

Ari: You're both impossible.

She’s not wrong and I don't have a good response to that.

I set my phone down and turn back to my laptop.

The article stares back at me, still unfinished.

Blaise's quote about defense winning championships sits in my notes, waiting to be incorporated into the document.

I type his name, finally, and begin to place his perspective into the piece.

My phone buzzes again, but I ignore it. I need to finish this article before the orientation meeting about Puerto Rico.

I type furiously, the words finally flowing.

Brotherhood. Legacy. The unglamorous work behind the scenes.

I pull it all together, crafting a narrative about what it means to be part of something bigger than yourself.

By the time I've finished the conclusion, my coffee is cold and an hour has passed.

I read it over once, then again. It's good. Better than good, actually. It captures something I wasn’t expecting about this team, something I’m proud to showcase in this piece: authenticity. I save the document and email it to my editor. Done. One less thing to worry about.

I glance at the time in the corner of my screen and realize I have about forty-five minutes before I need to head out for the orientation. Just enough time to unwind a bit.

After a good stretch, I close the article tab and open StreamTub. It’s been my go-to for background noise when I need to decompress, and entertainment for years. The homepage loads with familiar thumbnails and auto-play clips, but it’s the “Live Now: Co-Streams” section that makes my stomach jolt.

KingPin94 x CozyCraft4Eva — LIVE

Leo’s username is bolded next to Cozy’s, the thumbnail showing both their cams lit up in split-screen: him grinning like a smug idiot, her adjusting her headset while their avatars build some kind of pastel farmhouse in a blocky survival sim.

I shouldn’t care.

I don’t care.

But I click anyway.

"—and I'm telling you, Coz, this is gonna be the biggest build we've done together," Leo's voice fills my speakers, that familiar mix of confidence and excitement that used to make my stomach flip.

Once again, it’s making me feel sick.

The smart thing to do was press the exit button and get on with the rest of my evening. However, I find myself watching for longer than I should.

"You always say that," Cozy laughs as her avatar placing down rainbow-colored blocks while Leo's character follows behind her. "Remember the underwater castle that crashed your server?"

"That was different," he protests. "I had, like, fifty mods running."

Cozy, whose real name is Lilly, and I chatted on occasion when I dated Leo, but I didn’t realize they were still in touch.

The thought bounces around my head as I watch as the chat scrolls by, filled with emotes and inside jokes I used to be part of.

Leo leans closer to his camera, reading something, and then his face splits into that signature grin.

"Shoutout to CtrlAltDeceit69 for the tier three sub! Welcome to the Kingdom, my dude."

I should close the tab. Right now. And with a heavy sigh, I finally have enough willpower to commit to it.

I check the time again. Thirty minutes until orientation. I need to get moving, need to focus on something other than Leo and his content.

Puerto Rico. Focus on Puerto Rico and this orientation.

I grab my coat and bag, double-checking that I have my notebook and pens. The orientation packet mentioned bringing something to take notes with, and while I could use my laptop, I don't trust myself not to get distracted given how much my brain is racing even more than normal.

I quickly decide to drive across campus, considering how chilly it is out tonight.

It also means I’m fifteen minutes early.

If I would have realized that before I left my dorm, I would have stopped to get something quick.

But at least I won’t be drawing attention to myself because I’m rushing in at the last minute.

Given how no one is around right now, it’s easy for me to find the room number from the email. I pause outside the threshold for a split second before walking through it.

Professor Wallace has her back to me as I walk into the room and pick an empty desk to sit at.

I figure choosing a seat near the middle, not too close to the front but not hiding in the back either, is perfect.

As I get settled, I glance up when I see someone else walk in out of the corner of my eye.

My heart stops.

Blaise Dalton walks in, his expression neutral until his eyes land on me. For a split second, I see surprise flash across his face and I’m convinced his mouth is about to drop open. However, he quickly catches himself and forces his expression to be neutral once more.

No. No way. This can't be happening.

But it is happening. Blaise gives a small wave to Professor Wallace. And then, because the universe apparently hates me, he's walking down my row.

"Is this seat taken?" he asks, gesturing to the empty chair beside me.

I want to say yes as a way to lie and claim I'm saving it for someone, but my mouth betrays me. "No."

He sits down and I do my best to ignore him. Here’s to hoping he’ll do the same and leave me the hell alone.

"Didn't expect to see you here," he says quietly as Professor Wallace distributes handouts to the front row to pass back.

"I could say the same about you," I mutter, keeping my eyes fixed on my notebook. "Don't you have practice or something?"

"Not tonight." He accepts the stack of papers from the person in front of us, takes one, and passes the rest to me. Our fingers brush, and I jerk my hand back. "Coach gave us the evening off."

I don't respond, focusing instead on the orientation packet now in front of me that I already printed out. The cover page has a colorful photo of what I assume is Old San Juan. Under different circumstances, I'd be excited.

"So," Blaise whispers, "this is what you got accepted to."

It's not a question, but I answer anyway. "Yes."

"Political history and culture of Puerto Rico," he reads from the packet. "Interesting choice for a journalism major."

I finally look at him, narrowing my eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugs, the motion fluid and annoyingly graceful. "Nothing. Just making an observation."

"Well don't."

The corner of his mouth twitches and I know he's fighting a smile. "Noted."

Professor Wallace clears her throat, drawing our attention to the front of the room. "Welcome, everyone, to the second session of the orientation for our Winter Abroad: Puerto Rico program. I'm Professor Wallace, and I'll be your primary faculty advisor for this trip."

But I barely hear anything that she’s talking about because Blaise is going to be on this trip too.

That means a week of shared activities.

A week of group discussions.

A week of seeing him every. Single. Day.

“I opened up this session to those who attended the previous orientation in case you wanted to meet some of the new people that have recently signed up. Plus there is some more information that I would like to share with you and a few changes.”

She clicks to the next slide: a detailed itinerary.

I write down the schedule, adding little stars next to activities that sound particularly interesting.

A walking tour of colonial architecture.

A visit to El Morro fortress. A day trip to El Yunque rainforest. By the time Professor Wallace wraps up, I somehow managed to take some notes and my head is spinning.

"Any final questions?" she asks, looking around the room.

A hand goes up near the front. "Are the roommate assignments co-ed or single gender?"

"Single gender," Professor Wallace answers. "University policy."

A few more questions follow, but they don’t take long for Professor Wallace to answer. When she’s done, she says, "That's all for tonight. Remember to check your email for updates and complete your health forms by the deadline if you haven't already."

People start packing up, the room filling with the sounds of zipping bags and shuffling papers.

I shove my notebook into my bag, eager to escape before Blaise can say anything else.

This time the universe is on my side because he gets pulled into a conversation with someone else, allowing me to escape.

My phone buzzes in my pocket as soon as I reach my car. I know it’s Ari, but I don’t respond until I’m safely back in my room.

Ari: How was orientation? Any cute study abroad prospects?

A bitter laugh escapes my lips as I reread her text. If only she knew.

Me: You could say that. Blaise is in the program too.

I watch the typing bubbles appear almost instantly. Ari was on fire with her responses, apparently.

Ari: WHAT?!

Ari: ARE YOU SERIOUS?

Ari: This is either the best or worst thing ever!

Ari: I can't decide.

Neither can I, is all I can think. Neither. Can. I.