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PIPER

A week after our podcast agreement, October slips deeper into its golden phase. The maple trees outside the radio station window have transformed completely, their crimson leaves catching the late afternoon sunlight as they spiral to the ground.

"He's going to show," Julian reassures me from the production booth. "The guy's got, like, ten thousand Instagram followers now because of your first episode."

"Eleven thousand, four hundred and twenty-six.” I tell him. "Abigail's been monitoring our social stats."

I glance at my phone. Again.

The door bursts open, and Liam strides in, dark hair damp and curled across his forehead, cheeks flushed from what could only be a sprint across campus.

"I'm here.” He heads over to his assigned chair, shrugging off his jacket. His biceps flex. “And not a minute too late.”

"You have exactly three minutes and forty-two seconds until we go live.” I slide his headphones across the table. "That's technically not late, but it's also not?—"

"Professional?" Grinning, he drops into the chair. "I had practice. Coach Murphy made us do extra conditioning because Miller kept missing passes."

"Fascinating.” I nudge his microphone closer. "Today's topic is 'Red Flags versus Green Flags in Dating.' I've compiled some stats on the most statistically significant indicators of?—"

“We’ll get to that, I’m sure. But first…” He pulls a slightly squashed bag of sour cream and onion chips from his backpack. “Sustenance. Hard to talk about the piss-stained dating pool without a little brain food.”

The bag explodes upon opening, sending green-flecked chips flying across our equipment.

"Thirty seconds!" Julian calls.

I stare at the chip fragments now decorating my notes.

Oblivious, Liam pauses to pop one into his mouth. "Want one? Sharing is caring.”

"Ten seconds!" Julian counts down.

“You want to share with a little less mess?” I ask.

He blinks innocently. “I thought that’s why you wanted me on the show. I’m the mess, and you’re the human vacuum trying to make it neat and tidy.”

I glare at him as Julian points at us, signaling we're live.

I clear my throat, slipping back into podcast pro mode, trying to ignore the sound of Liam crunching noisily on my other side.

“Welcome back, listeners, to another episode of ‘Love & Logic,' where we explore relationships through research and real-world experience.” I press on, ignoring the chip apocalypse before me. "I'm Piper Olive, and this is my co-host, UB hockey star Liam Sullivan."

"What's up, relationship seekers?" Liam leans into his microphone, voice dropping to that irritatingly appealing radio timbre. "Today we're tackling dating red flags—those warning signs that scream 'run away' faster than me when Coach threatens extra sprints."

I roll my eyes. "And green flags—positive indicators of compatibility and healthy relationship potential that data shows correlate with long-term satisfaction."

"In Piper's world, these probably include alphabetized bookshelves—" Liam's teasing is cut short when I kick him under the table.

"Let's start with some common red flags," I continue sweetly. "Research from the Journal of Relationship Studies indicates that inconsistency in communication is one of the strongest predictors of relationship dissatisfaction."

"Like showing up three minutes before a podcast?" Liam asks, smile widening.

"Exactly like that.” I smile back.. “Along with inability to respect boundaries and poor listening skills."

"Ouch. That one hurt, Thompson."

The banter flows naturally between us—too naturally for my comfort—as we debate various relationship warning signs versus positive indicators.

Until Julian signals that we've got callers.

I’m way too giddy the second we take the first one.

"Hi, I'm Casey," a tentative female voice comes through our headphones.

“Hi Casey.” I grip the mic closer. “What’s your love life problem?”

She clears her throat. “Well, it’s like this…I’ve been dating this guy for three months, and everything was great until last week.”

“What happened last week?” Liam cuts in, brows furrowing.

“Well, I found out he lied about having a sister who died. He made up this whole story about losing her when he was younger, but his mom accidentally mentioned he's an only child. When I confronted him, he said he just wanted me to think he was deep and understood loss. Is this a red flag?"

“Casey,” I begin before Liam can finish chewing his last chip.

“That’s not a red flag. That would be a whole darn red banner.

” My head shakes. “Fabricating a family tragedy demonstrates dishonesty, manipulation, not to mention,” I say, picking up speed, “it shows concerning patterns that could escalate?—"

"Can I jump in?"

I glance over to see Liam leaning into the mic. I start to tell him no, but there’s this look on his face.

It’s not playful. It’s somehow softer. And the muted tone of his voice makes me pause.

It certainly helps that the chip bag is no longer in sight.

I take a deep breath. “Of course.”

"Casey," he says, his voice steady and deep, "what your boyfriend did wasn't just dishonest—it was disrespectful to people who have actually experienced that kind of loss."

He pauses, and I notice his fingers tapping against his thigh—not their usual energetic rhythm, but something slower, more deliberate.

"When you lose someone," he continues, "it changes you in ways that aren't... performative. It's not something you use to seem interesting or deep. It becomes part of who you are, often in ways you don't even recognize until years later."

The studio falls completely silent.

Even Julian is staring through the glass.

"Trust is the foundation of any relationship," Liam adds, his hazel eyes focused somewhere beyond the studio walls. "If he's willing to fabricate something this significant, you have to ask yourself what else he might lie about when it's convenient."

"Thank you," Casey says after some time. "That... actually helps a lot.”-

Shocked, I give Liam a thumbs up that only he can see. Unfortunately, when he tries to return it, he knocks over the water bottle he lugged in.

A wave of likely back-washed water goes cascading in my lap. I leap up, microphone headset yanking painfully before detaching, as cold water soaks through my jeans.

"And that's our cue for a quick break!" Julian announces, cutting to our pre-recorded sponsor message.

The second the message starts, I turn on Liam. “Could you please try to be a less of a human hurricane for like three seconds?”

“Sorry,” he grunts, reaching into his bag and thrusting a t-shirt in my direction. “We can’t all be Stepford Students. Perfect in every way. Speaking of which, what’s it like walking around with that thing?”

I glare, dapping my jeans with the t-shirt. “What thing?”

“Oh, you know, that stick up your ass you seem so intent on keeping.”

I settle back into my seat, wet jeans clinging uncomfortably. I throw the t-shirt back his way.

“Try not to be so concerned with my ass, Sullivan, and I’ll make sure not to be concerned with yours.”

“Aaaand we’re back in three, two…” Julian motions.

He mouths "sorry" just as Julian points at us again.

By the time we finally reach the closing segment, I’m practically fuming.

The good part about being mad? Makes your skin heat.

My jeans have gone from full on wet to partially damp by the time we’re wrapping.

"And that's all for today's 'Love & Logic,'" I conclude. "Join us next week when we'll debate 'First Date Etiquette: Rules versus Instinct.'"

"Remember," Liam adds, "relationships are best when you go with the flow.” He glances my way. “So, flow away, listeners.”

I grit my teeth. “Until next time, Love and Logic peeps!”

Julian cuts our mics, and I immediately peel myself from the chair, gathering my soggy notes.

I don’t wait. Don’t turn.

Just haul ass out of the studio like it’s on fire.

Until the sound of heavy footsteps on my tail catches up with me.

Liam’s deep voice is damn near my ear when he finally speaks again.

He sighs. “Lemme guess…You’re going to be mad at me for the rest of the semester, aren’t you?”

“Wow,” I mutter, moving faster, “you’re really good at apologies. I mean it. That’s the best apology I’ve ever heard.”

He grunts behind me. “I should have said it before. I’m sorry.” A second of silence passes, then two. “Seriously. I'll buy you new jeans. What are those, Levi's? Gap? Designer something-or-other?"

"They're just jeans," I sigh, too mentally exhausted to maintain my anger. "It was an accident."

He snorts. “But it was a good show today, right? Apart from my contribution to global warming through excessive chip distribution and the Great Flood of your lap."

I hesitate, seeing an opening to ask about the moment that's still echoing in my mind. "You were really good with that Casey girl. The one with the lying boyfriend."

I hear his stride change. He picks up the pace and instead of following me. He walks beside me. “Just speaking truth."

"It seemed... personal."

"Not everything needs analysis, Thompson. Sometimes people just know things."

Before I can press further, I get a call from Julian. I pick up, putting it on speaker.

“Yeah, Julian. What’s up?”

"Holy shit, guys! The download numbers are insane! We're getting tagged all over campus social media, and someone made Team Piper and Team Liam t-shirts!"

I frown. “T-shirts?"

I get a ping. A link to a Twitter thread with photos of students wearing burgundy "Team Piper - Relationship Science Rules" shirts and blue "Team Liam - Follow the Flow” shirts.” He laughs over the line.

"Whatever you want to call it, it's working.

Oh, and Professor Bennett stopped by earlier—said he wants to see you both after next week's recording. "

My heart skips. "Professor Bennett? About what?"

"Didn't say. Just that he's been following the podcast and has some thoughts." Julian says something in the background I can’t hear. "Gotta run! The station wants to discuss sponsorship opportunities. This thing is blowing up!"

As Julian hangs up, I hit the door to the exit with Liam on my heels. The feel of fresh fall air feels cool against my skin, but it has nothing on the heat working under my collar.

The podcast is fast becoming a campus phenomenon. The thought makes my heart race.

"So..." Liam quips, still at my side. "T-shirts, huh?"

"Apparently."

Another pause.

"I should get going," he says, checking his phone. "Team dinner at the Hockey House. Can't be late or Derek will eat all the garlic bread."

I nod. “Right. And, um, if Derek asks..."

"I was at the library," Liam finishes. "Studying very hard for... what class do I look like I'd be failing?"

"All of them?"

"Wow. Harsh, Thompson." He laughs, heading his own way. "See you at Ryan's on Tuesday to prep? Four o'clock?"

"I'll be there," I pause. “Try not to bring an exploding snack next time."

"No promises!" he calls over his shoulder, and then he's gone.

I head back to my on-campus apartment, thoughts only focused on the nap I plan on taking.

But when I open the door, Abigail’s already sprawled on our living room couch.

Surrounded by takeout containers and the comfortable chaos of Friday night decompression, she points an egg roll in my direction.

“Welcome home, Miss Radio Superstar.”

I groan, reaching for another spring roll. ‘Don’t start. I’m not feeling very superstar-ish right now. Just exhausted.”

“I’m sure.” She grins, pink lips curving in the corners. “Must be tiring trying not to jump Liam’s bones for an hour straight.”

“Oh, I want to jump him, alright.” I land on the couch with a whoosh. “Just in the violent, non-sexual way.”

“Please. The tension between you two is thick enough to spread on toast. You two argue like an old married couple who still have amazing sex."

“We sooo do not.”

“Ha! Don’t believe me.” She flashes her phone. “Just look at the comments.”

I do.

One says: “Is it just me or did Sullivan get all deep and broody when talking about loss?"

Another: “The way they bicker is foreplay and you can't convince me otherwise."

"This is crazy,” I mutter. “We can barely sit in the same studio together without arguing. The last thing on either of our minds is foreplay.”

“Piper, you’re a journalism nerd. This IS your foreplay.”

I throw a fortune cookie at her, which she catches—grinning.

Abigail's expression softens. "In all seriousness, though. I heard that moment with the caller about the fake dead sister. Liam actually sounded...real. Not like his usual class-clown self."

"I know. I tried to ask him about it, but he deflected."

"Interestiiing."

"Don't start. I just... I don't know. It made me think maybe there's more to him than the hockey jock stereotype."

"And this surprises you because..."

"Because he's insufferable.” Abigail grills me, and I roll my eyes. “Okay, maybe not insufferable, but he’s kinda hard to take. But…”

“But what?”

I swallow, finding it harder with each passing second. I pick at a loose thread on the couch. “But then he has these moments where he's actually...insightful. And it’s…I don’t know. Surprising, I guess.”

A silence starts to settle in the living room, before my phone buzzes.

I jump, checking it.

Professor Bennett. Requesting a meeting Monday morning.

"Bennett wants to meet," I tell Abigail, my pulse quickening. "About the podcast."

"This is it! The fellowship connection you’ve been looking for!”

"Maybe," I hedge. "Or maybe he hates it and wants to tell me I'm ruining journalism with relationship talk."

"Or maybe he's noticed that there's more to you and Liam Sullivan than just professional discourse."

I throw another fortune cookie at her, which cracks against the wall as she ducks.

"There is nothing between me and Liam Sullivan except a shared microphone," I insist. "And occasionally, water from a spilled bottle."

Abigail drops it, and we spend the rest of the hour devouring our Chinese takeout.

But somewhere in between the egg rolls and the Egg Foo Young, the memory of the look on Liam’s face when he talked to that caller about loss creeps its way in.

I shake the image off.

Along with that crazy thought that there's more to my infuriating co-host than I thought.

Which is exactly the kind of complication I don't need right now.