Chapter 4: The New Guy
1087 Words
Ayla
The lecture hall buzzed as students trickled in, the usual chatter and rustling papers filling the air. I slid into my seat, just as the professor walked in. My hair was a bit windblown from the run across campus, and I tucked a strand behind my ear, exhaling as I opened my notebook.
Then I saw him.
He wasn’t there last week. Tall, clean-cut, with an easy smile and sharp cheekbones. He looked like he belonged in a music video—fitted charcoal sweater, dark jeans, and eyes that scanned the room with quiet curiosity. I tried not to stare when he sat in the empty seat beside me.
“Hey,” he said casually, glancing at my notebook. “You always write that neat?”
I blinked. “Um… sort of. Force of habit.”
He chuckled. “I’m Caleb.”
“Ayla.”
“I’m new here. Transferred in this week. And clearly, I picked the right seat.”
I raised a brow, lips curving. Smooth.
He didn’t overdo it, though. He asked about the class, the professor, what campus spots were best for studying. It wasn’t like James—Caleb was more composed, like someone who knew how to impress without trying too hard.
And yet… I didn’t feel that flutter in my chest. Not like I do when James—
Ugh. No. Stop it.
This was good. Normal. I was allowed to talk to other guys. Even James would agree.
After class, Caleb offered to walk me out, and I said yes. Just before we reached the courtyard, I saw him—James—leaning against the pillar by the stairs, phone in hand.
And something in my stomach flipped.
He looked up. Our eyes met. He gave a lazy smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“New friend?” he asked as we walked closer.
“Classmate,” I replied quickly. “Caleb, this is James. James, Caleb.”
The two exchanged polite nods. Caleb excused himself shortly after, saying something about finding the library. I watched him go, then turned to James, who still hadn’t moved.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said coolly. “Just didn’t know we were collecting strangers now.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be weird.”
“Not being weird,” he said, pushing off the pillar. “Just… observing.”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have to. The air between us had shifted again. But neither of us wanted to admit it.
James
I knew I was being ridiculous. But something about that guy—Caleb—rubbed me the wrong way.
It wasn’t that he was good-looking. I mean, he was, objectively. Sharp features, a calm voice, expensive sneakers. The kind of guy girls noticed.
But Ayla wasn’t just any girl.
She was mine.
No—not mine. Just my best friend.
My forever friend.
Right.
Still, when I saw him walking beside her, laughing about something I hadn’t said, it felt like someone punched me in the chest.
I shouldn’t care. Ayla deserved attention. From nice guys. Guys who could maybe date her without complicating things. Without ruining years of friendship.
But the thought of her calling someone else late at night? Hugging someone else the way she hugs me? Laughing with someone else on our rooftop?
It made my skin crawl.
Back at the mansion, I tried to shake it off. We had food, Netflix, the giant L-shaped sofa. This was our routine. But even as we sat side by side, legs touching, the silence hung between us longer than it usually did.
“Want to talk about him?” I asked finally, biting the inside of my cheek.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she said. “He’s new.”
“You seemed… happy. Walking with him.”
“Am I not allowed to smile at people anymore?” she snapped, then sighed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
I looked at her. She looked tired. Conflicted.
And maybe… unsure.
“Look,” I said, softer, “I just… I like things the way they are.”
She looked up. Her eyes met mine, and in that second, it was like everything we weren’t saying screamed louder than what we were.
“I do too,” she whispered.
I nodded and smiled. But deep inside, I wondered how long we’d keep pretending that nothing was changing.
Caleb
I’ve switched schools three times. By now, I know the feeling—new faces, curious eyes, the awkward “Where are you from?” and “What’s your major?” questions. But this campus? It felt different. Cleaner. Richer. More… filtered.
And then I saw her.
She was scribbling something in perfect lines—her handwriting looked like calligraphy. Hair dark and effortlessly styled, skin like sunlight kissed it on purpose. The way she tilted her head while thinking, how she adjusted her sleeve when someone passed—like she was aware of being seen, but never sought attention.
Ayla.
She said her name like it wasn’t already living rent-free in my head.
She wasn’t just beautiful. She was present. Focused. Untouchable in a quiet way that made you want to try.
I didn’t expect her to talk to me beyond the basics. Girls like her usually didn’t. But she did. And when she laughed—genuinely, like she wasn’t trying to impress me—I was hooked.
I kept the conversation light. No flirting. Not yet. I wanted her to feel like herself, not like she was being cornered. I knew the kind of guys who tried too hard too fast. I wasn’t one of them.
But then came him.
James.
The moment I saw him, I understood. Not because Ayla introduced him like her boyfriend—she didn’t. But because his eyes gave it away. He looked at me like he wanted to scan my history.
And the way she stood next to him… close enough that I knew he mattered.
They weren’t dating. That was obvious.
But they weren’t just friends either.
I know the look of someone holding back. I’ve been that person.
Ayla smiled politely as I left, but I caught the tension in her fingers. The way her voice got quieter. Something changed between them, and I was the reason. I didn’t mean to cause waves… but now I was curious what would happen if I did.
She said they were just friends.
I wasn’t so sure.
- Writer
