The kiss hadn't left Emily's mind for a second.
She hadn't told anyone. Not that there was anyone to tell. But something about it felt sacred—like if she said it out loud, the world might ruin it.
So she kept it tucked behind a small, secret smile.
Even Riley seemed lighter the next day. No classes again, just open time. They'd made tea in the common room, passed a sketchbook back and forth doodling dumb things and laughing over them. Emily hadn't laughed like that in forever.
But outside their little bubble?
Things were shifting.
Subtle.
Weird.
It started with Riley's locker. The paint she kept stored in the bottom shelf—ruined. Poured out, mixed into a slimy mess of browns and greens. A sticky note left behind:
"Art's for girls who can't speak."
Riley brushed it off. "Probably some idiot," she muttered. "It's fine."
Emily wasn't convinced.
Then Emily's laptop—gone for hours. Turned up behind the admin building later, screen cracked, keyboard wet like someone had spilled soda over it and left it to bake in the sun. No note this time. Just silence.
Dylan didn't say a word.
He still smiled in the halls, still laughed with his crew, still held doors open like the golden boy he always pretended to be.
But sometimes, Emily caught him watching. Not the way he used to—when his eyes were soft, full of hope and want. Now, it was clinical. Cold. Like he was studying a puzzle piece that never quite fit.
Ms. Halden noticed. Pulled Emily aside in the hallway once.
"You alright?" she asked, eyes sharp.
Emily hesitated. "Yeah. Just tired."
Halden didn't push. Just nodded slowly. But she knew something was off.
---
Dorm Room – Later That Week
Riley was quieter now. Her art supplies were a mess, half missing. Her canvases gone. Someone had slashed a sketch in the hallway with box cutter precision.
Emily tried to talk to her about it.
"I'm fine," Riley said for the third time.
"You're not."
"I said I'm fine!"
Silence.
Emily stepped back, hurt flashing across her face.
"I'm not mad at you," Riley whispered after a beat. "I just… I hate that I'm not surprised. I hate that I expected this."
Emily sat down beside her, pulling her knees to her chest.
"You think it's Dylan?"
Riley didn't answer. She didn't have to.