Page 11

SANJANA

I got a whopping three hours of sleep.

When I finally texted Ryder back, it was a full line of middle finger emojis. That was my version of a love letter when he was being a dick. Naturally, it earned me a reply two minutes later:

Rye ????

Tell me how you really feel.

Or better yet, come show me.

You know where I sleep.

Yeah, he was definitely in a mood, but I preferred this to him riding around trying to commit a few felonies. I texted back something I knew would get under his skin--sue me.

Beside Brooke? ??

He didn’t respond right away, which meant he was either pissed, amused, or imagining things he shouldn’t be.

I pictured him gripping his phone, doing that broody thing where he stared off into space like he was deciding whether or not to burn the world down.

When his response came twenty minutes later, it wasn’t anything I could twist into something safe.

Rye ????

Be ready when I stop holding back .

That was all.

A promise wrapped in a warning. It set off a back-and-forth war. By the time we finished launching digital attacks via GIFs, reels, and passive-aggressive commentary like mature, responsible adults, my alarm was practically going off, and I’d nearly suffocated myself trying to smother my laughter.

I used to think I was a morning person, mostly because I had those fond memories of when my beloved dictator, Roxxi, used to drag me out of bed before dawn had the decency to crack her ass.

I’d since learned that being an early riser was a trait I no longer possessed.

Not only did I hate being forced to wake up early, but I also couldn’t stand having to rush, which was exactly what I was doing.

It was all Ryder’s fault.

Mostly.

Being for real, I blamed the creepy dickhead who decided to give me a haunting pageant wave at one in the morning before skipping off into the shadows like a horror movie reject.

I rushed out of Ashton’s building with my hair still damp and a chill clinging to my skin.

My bag was slung over one shoulder, boots clicking against the pavement.

I moved fast, weaving through half-asleep students with coffee I was tempted to steal, looking as miserable to be up as I felt.

I wouldn’t have time to grab my beloved espresso this morning, and that was enough to make me have a small breakdown.

When I finally made it to the parking lot, I spotted Ashton leaning against his car, phone in hand, talking to someone.

His jaw was tight, the crease between his brows deep enough to tell me it wasn’t a pleasant conversation.

The second he saw me, an easy smile slid across his face, and without hesitation, he told the person on the other end, “ I gotta go .”

“You didn’t have to end your call,” I said as I reached him.

“And not give you my undivided attention?” he shot back smoothly, like the argument he’d been in seconds ago had never happened. “You look good in that.”

I smiled, more out of habit than anything else, and climbed into the passenger seat, shutting the door behind me.

As I buckled up, I glanced down at what I was wearing.

A cropped pink sweater, high-waisted black jeans, and my favorite black ankle boots.

Not exactly groundbreaking, but comfortable and good enough to call for the compliment he had given me.

The drive to campus was calm. Morning sunlight filtered through the trees and gave our town a catalog-worthy look.

I wasn’t skilled like Cloe with my photography skills, but the scenery was so pretty that I pulled up my camera to snap a quick moving photo.

Afterward, I stared at the screen of my phone a little longer than necessary, trying to think of how to bring up everything from yesterday.

“Who were you talking to on the phone earlier?” Slipped out instead.

His fingers paused mid-tap against the steering wheel, just for a second before picking up again. That was an odd reaction. I wasn’t asking to be accusatory. I was genuinely curious. Now I was a bit more than that.

“Sarah,” he tossed out casually.

“Sarah? Which one? We go to school with like twelve.”

“She doesn’t go here. Not yet, anyway,” He replied, keeping his eyes on the road.

I hesitated before asking, “Okay…do I know her then?”

“It’s Sarah Myers.”

For a second, I thought I misheard him. “Sarah Myers? As in Ryder’s Sarah?” I pressed, the name echoing in my mind with unwanted clarity.

“She wasn’t…” He let out a quiet breath through his nose, his grip on the wheel tightening. “They never dated.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t call what they were doing dating either.”

He didn’t defend her or explain why he had been talking to her first thing in the morning.

He just kept driving, adding nothing further.

Was that supposed to end the conversation?

I turned to the window and launched into a quiet self-discussion about how men were idiots.

No, that wasn’t fair. I was friends with quite a few good ones, and I was confident in assuming they would have known this kind of conversation with your girlfriend needed at least a little elaboration.

A who, what, why moment. Even a “ don’t worry, it’s nothing ” thrown in for effort.

I got radio silence and a view of trees blurring past while Ashton adjusted the volume like we hadn’t brushed shoulders with a fight I didn’t have the energy to finish, let alone begin.

And I didn’t want to start it. I already knew it wouldn’t fix anything.

I was starting to notice cracks we couldn’t patch.

The kind that went deeper than a bad morning or a disagreement.

I guess some of that was my fault, though.

I thought back to how he looked while on the phone and wondered what the two of them could have been talking about.

Sarah and I had always been polite in that fake, passive-aggressive way girls mastered young, but we were never friends.

After Ryder ended whatever it was that they had going on, she started carrying this weird energy toward me.

I swear she made herself believe I was the reason it didn’t work out, and not her best friend, who broke every kind of girl code that existed by trying to sleep with him too.

He didn’t do it and removed himself from the equation altogether.

None of that had anything to do with me.

I could say without a reasonable doubt that my best friends would never go for a guy I was remotely interested in. I couldn’t even entertain the thought of doing that to them. It would be gross and grounds for getting my ass beat.

Last I heard about Sarah, she was a majorette for our rival college in Crescent Ridge, a town over, living her best baton-twirling life away from us.

Now she was having casual early morning phone calls with my boyfriend.

Ashton knew her from going to high school together, but they were never close enough to stay connected years later. At least that I knew of.

I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and busied myself with my phone.

Ryder had texted me good morning, as always, and the girls were checking in on my ETA.

I let them know I’d be there in less than five minutes.

We reached campus, still not speaking to one another.

Ashton maneuvered his way through the usual mass of students crossing without looking and cars inching forward like turtles.

After another few minutes, he pulled into his designated parking spot with practiced ease, one of the prime locations close to the main academic building.

All students had to pay a small fortune for a parking pass on top of everything else, and the good spots were snatched up faster than free merch during welcome week.

This year, I waited until the last minute to get mine, and that turned out to be a big mistake.

I now had to park in a section that felt like it belonged to an entirely different zip code, miles from any building.

I may or may not have told my friends I chose the spot on purpose, so they didn’t force some poor soul to give theirs up for me.

I texted that I had arrived and gathered my bag. Reaching for the handle to hop out, Ashton’s hand brushed my arm, stopping me. I looked over at him, silently questioning what he wanted to say.

“You have nothing to worry about with me and Sarah, Sanj. I promise.” His voice was softer than it had been all morning.

I stared at him, turning those words over in my head.

I thought it was weird they were chatting on the phone, and there was a strong likelihood she may have been up to something shady, but the two of them messing around wasn’t on my radar.

My confusion must have been obvious because he looked at me as if he were expecting a different kind of reaction.

“I wasn’t worried about that,” I replied, watching him a little closer now.

“You weren’t?”

“Why do you sound surprised?”

“I’m talking to Ryder’s ex ,” he emphasized, like that last part was supposed to mean something to me.

“Thought you said they never dated?” I retorted sarcastically.

“They didn’t, but come on, Sanj, you don’t hook up with someone that long and come out of it without some unresolved shit.”

I wasn’t sure if I was more annoyed that he was mentioning this, or that he, of all people, was saying this while revealing he had been casually talking to her.

Why did he feel the need to expand on this topic all of a sudden in the first place?

I glanced out the window in an attempt to gather my thoughts.