Are you the Worst?

6: High-tech Tensions

♡ S I X ♡

Hightech Tensions

Zeke’s dorm was quiet that afternoon, the soft hum of his computer equipment filling the space as Eve sat cross-legged on a beanbag chair near his desk. The walls were lined with gaming posters, sticky notes, whiteboards with flowcharts, and one giant monitor that glowed in soft blue light.

Zeke sat behind her on a rolling chair, sipping an iced coffee and reviewing a game storyboard on his tablet. Eve was focused, eyes narrowed at the screen, one hand moving swiftly over the drawing tablet as she added line art to a character's armor. It was a female warrior with bold shoulders, fierce eyes, and long flowing hair.

Zeke leaned in, watching her work. “You always draw like that? Like... you’re in a trance?”

She didn’t look away. “It’s how I focus. My hand moves faster when my brain stops thinking too much.”

He grinned. “That sounds dangerous.”

She cracked a smile. “Only for people who try to scare me behind vending machines.”

Zeke laughed and tilted his chair back, balancing dangerously on two legs. “Fair.”

After a while, Eve leaned back and rubbed her eyes, stretching her arms up. “Whew. This is your villain, right? I’m thinking maybe she has a scar down her cheek... something that hints at betrayal. Adds depth.”

Zeke looked at her drawing. “That’s... actually perfect.”

A small blush crept up her cheeks. She didn’t say anything, but his praise meant more than she expected.

He picked up his phone and played a mellow lo-fi playlist in the background. Then, breaking the soft silence, he asked, “So, Eve... where are you from originally?”

She turned toward him. “Oh. I’m from the Philippines. Born and raised in Manila.”

Zeke nodded, interest lighting his face. “No wonder your accent’s soft. Not strong, but still there.”

Eve chuckled. “Yeah, it fades when I speak English more often.”

He leaned forward. “What made you come all the way here to NYU?”

She paused, hugging her knees. “It’s been my dream school since I was fourteen. I’d stay up late watching NYU student vlogs, campus tours, art programs. I told myself one day... I’d be here. Even if it meant leaving everything I knew.”

There was a glimmer in her eyes, but her voice faltered slightly.

Zeke noticed.

“Was it hard? Leaving home?”

Eve nodded slowly. “I miss my brothers... and my mom’s cooking. My dad’s annoying morning lectures, my best friend’s karaoke voice... It’s weird. Some days I feel okay. Other days... I feel like the world is too quiet.”

Zeke didn't say anything for a moment. Then he stood up, walked to the corner of his room, and came back holding a soccer ball. Without a word, he tossed it once in the air, then spun it skillfully on one finger.

Eve blinked. “What... are you doing?”

Zeke looked at her with a smirk. “Trying to distract you. I prefer your weird face when you’re focused not that sad one.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “You’re such a weirdo.”

“You’re the one talking to a guy spinning a soccer ball in his room,” he teased.

She threw a nearby pillow at him, and he ducked, laughing.

They both sat back down, the atmosphere lighter. A warmth settled between them, comfortable and sincere.

Then Zeke added, “My stepmom is actually Filipina.”

Eve perked up. “Really?”

He nodded. “She’s amazing. Raised me since I was 2. Her chicken adobo and lumpia... game changers.”

Eve’s eyes sparkled. “You’ve tried lumpia?”

“Tried? I inhaled it. Every holiday, every birthday. I begged her to teach me once. I failed terribly.”

Eve was now giggling.

Zeke smiled, watching her. “She’s part of why I came here. Wanted to prove I could make it on my own. Be independent. NYU gave me that chance.”

She looked at him quietly, taking in how confidently he said that how proud he seemed of his own story. She admired that. So different from the boys who broke hearts and ran away. Zeke stood his ground.

Eve slowly turned back to the drawing tablet, but her expression was softer now, her lines flowing more freely. The villain design evolved sharper edges, stronger features. Zeke glanced at the screen and whistled low.

“That’s stunning.”

Eve looked at him sideways. “Told you. You need me.”

Zeke raised a brow. “Are you flirting with me, Alvarez?”

She smirked, eyes twinkling. “Not yet, Sinclair.”

☆☆☆

Elsewhere, on the opposite side of campus...

The basketball court echoed with bouncing balls and sneakers squeaking. But Ames sat alone on the edge of the bleachers, a basketball resting between his hands, unmoving.

He watched Marcus joke around with some freshmen, tossing alley-oops and shouting instructions. Eventually, Marcus noticed Ames’s stillness and jogged over.

“You good, bro?”

Ames didn’t answer right away.

Marcus sat beside him, wiping sweat from his forehead.

“You’re... quieter than usual.”

Ames leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Do you think I messed things up with Eve? Like... beyond repair?”

Marcus tilted his head. “You mean when you ghosted her while she and her mom were sick, lied about your age, and blocked her?”

Ames winced. “Damn, man. You didn’t have to say it all at once like that.”

Marcus shrugged. “You asked.”

Ames sighed. “I saw her earlier. With that soccer guy. Zeke or whatever.”

“Tall British dude with the floppy hair?”

“Yeah.”

Marcus chuckled. “They looked... close.”

Ames gripped the basketball tighter. “I don’t know why it’s bothering me.”

Marcus leaned back. “Maybe because she’s starting to move on. And deep down... you know you let a good one go.”

Ames stared out at the empty end of the court. Something heavy pressed against his chest. For the first time, he wasn’t just feeling guilty. He was feeling the full weight of what he might’ve lost.

Back in Zeke’s dorm. The villain sketch was almost complete. Eve saved the file and leaned back with a stretch.

“I haven’t drawn like this in months,” she said, her voice light. “It feels good.”

Zeke looked at her, his eyes softer than before. “Good. I like seeing you this way.”

She glanced over. “This way?”

He smiled. “Happy. Confident. You’re kind of hard not to look at when you’re like that.”

Eve blinked, caught off guard.

A small beat passed. Then she stood, cheeks pink.

“Okay,” she said, playfully grabbing her bag. “Flirty compliments mean it’s time to go.”

Zeke laughed and followed her to the door. “I’m just being honest.”

She looked up at him one last time before stepping out. “Thank you... for today.”

He opened the door for her. “Anytime, Eve Alvarez.”

As she disappeared down the hallway, Zeke stood in the doorway for a long moment, hand on the knob, smile lingering.

And far from them, Ames stood on the court, spinning a ball slowly between his hands.

Both of them, in different corners of campus, were beginning to realize. Eve was no longer the girl waiting for someone to come back. She was the girl who was slowly becoming herself again.

◇◇◇

The mirrors of the dance studio caught every movement as Eve practiced alone, her body gliding through each eight-count with precision. The room echoed with the sound of her sneakers scraping the polished floor, and the low thump of music playing from her phone.

Sweat lined her forehead, but her breathing was steady. Even if midterms were piling up and projects kept her up until 3 a.m., dancing still gave her a sense of peace. It was like pressing pause on the noise in her mind.

She hit the final pose of the routine, exhaled, and dropped to the floor with a tired sigh. Stretching her legs out in front of her, she reached for her phone to check the time.

6:34 PM. Saturday.

Her eyes widened. Oh. It’s Saturday already.

Aiden said she could pick up her laptop tomorrow night.

Smiling faintly, Eve opened her gallery, scrolling through the latest photos she’d taken snapshots of sketches, character design notes, even progress shots of Zeke’s villain model they worked on the other day.

And then, she paused.

One photo taken unintentionally was of Zeke. He was asleep on the floor beside her bag while she had been sketching. His hoodie hood was half off his head, and one hand rested loosely over his chest. His face was peaceful, calm. The light caught the edges of his hair, and he looked nothing like the sarcastic guy who liked to tease her.

Eve zoomed in.

And something in her chest clenched. Tears began to blur her vision before she even understood why.

She wasn’t crying for Zeke. Not really.

She was crying because, for a split second, it reminded her of the time she used to stare at another face. Ames’s. On her screen. During those late-night calls when the world felt okay because she thought someone out there really cared about her.

But all those sweet memories were trapped in the wrong person. A lie wrapped in affection.

Her lips trembled as she wiped her tears, frustrated at herself for feeling this way again.

And just as she took a shaky breath, she heard it..

*Click*

The sound of a camera shutter. She looked up quickly and there he was.

Zeke stood in the doorway, phone in hand, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Well, well. Caught you mid-meltdown. That’s a rare sight.”

Eve groaned and stood up halfway, glaring. “Delete that.”

“Not a chance. It’s my new wallpaper,” he teased, stepping closer.

Without missing a beat, Eve lunged to karate chop his stomachbut Zeke laughed and dodged just in time.

“Violent as ever,” he said, pulling a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and holding it out.

She stared at it. Then at him.

“Take it,” he said softly, “You’re still a human, Eve. You’re allowed to feel stuff.”

Reluctantly, she accepted the handkerchief, wiping her tears as Zeke sat beside her on the wooden floor. His voice was quieter now.

“I finalized all the sketches today. Gonna pitch it to my team on Monday,” he said, nudging her gently with his shoulder. “They’re gonna love it.”

She nodded slowly.

Then he stretched out his hand. “Handshake?”

Eve looked at his outstretched palm and gave him a small smile before sliding her hand into his.

“Thanks,” he said, his grip firm but warm. “You bring good health and good vibes. I mean it.”

She let out a little laugh. “You sound like a motivational poster.”

He shrugged. “That’s my brand.”

Then he added, almost shyly, “Even when you get your laptop back... maybe you can still be the illustrator for the next characters too?”

Eve stood up slowly, brushing dust off her leggings. She looked at him and smirked.

“No more handshakes,” she said. “Let’s do a wave.”

Zeke tilted his head. “A wave?”

She stepped back, getting into position to do a smooth body wave, a move she used to do all the time when teasing Ames.

But halfway through, her body froze.

Her chest tightened.

That memory of her teaching Ames how to wave... of their playful dares in her room....of him blushing whenever he failed at it crashed down on her like cold water.

Her arms dropped. Her smile faded. And just like that, the tears returned.

Raw, sudden.

Zeke stood quickly, alarmed.

“Hey, hey... what’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer.

She just covered her face, trying not to sob too loudly, but the pain spilled through her fingers. It wasn’t just about the wave. It was everything. Her hope, her trust, the way she gave her heart so fearlessly only for it to be shattered in silence.

Zeke didn’t speak.

He just stepped closer... and gently pulled her into his arms.

Eve didn’t fight it.

She let herself be held arms limp at her sides, cheek against his chest, eyes still wet.

Zeke didn’t offer a cheesy line, or ask her to explain. He just patted her back softly, held her steady, and murmured with care, “Whatever it is... just protect yourself, okay?”

His voice was firm, but kind.

And slowly, she nodded into his chest.

Because somehow... those words meant more than he knew.

♤♤♤

Sunday afternoon arrived with a soft breeze brushing through the NYU campus. The sun was warm but not too harsh, and the sky was brushed with cottony clouds. Eve made her way across the main quad, backpack on her shoulders and a slight bounce in her steps not because she was particularly excited, but because after days of working on Zeke’s project, she really missed her laptop.

She approached the tech building, where Aiden’s little workspace was tucked on the third floor. As she reached the stairs, she found Zeke already waiting at the landing.

He waved casually. “Hey, Miss Karate-Chop.”

She rolled her eyes with a half-smile. “Hey, Mr. Stalker-Who-Takes-Pictures-of-Crying-Girls.”

“Touché,” Zeke chuckled, falling into step beside her.

They climbed together, talking about nothing in particular. Eve complaining about dance rehearsals, Zeke teasing her about how she almost kicked him again when he surprised her last time.

When they reached Aiden’s workspace, the tech whiz greeted them with his usual dramatic flair. “The baby has been delivered, tested, blessed, and revived.”

He handed Eve her laptop with a grand bow.

Eve cradled it like it was a newborn, checking every corner, screen, and port. Everything was intact. She clicked around her files were there. Her photos. Her project drafts. Even the desktop wallpaper of her favorite Super Junior album still smiled back at her.

“Thank you,” she said, eyes glossy. “Like seriously. You saved my life.”

Aiden just winked. “Just don't break it again crying over mysterious British soccer players.”

Zeke gave him a warning glare, and Eve groaned.

They left the building, and just as she thought they’d part ways, Zeke stopped and turned to her.

“I know you’ve got your laptop now,” he began, tugging on the strap of his backpack, “but... you still owe me a celebration.”

Eve raised a brow. “A celebration?”

He smiled, looking slightly smug. “Come with me.” They walked for about ten minutes, Eve growing more and more curious. Zeke didn’t tell her where they were going, only that she should follow and not “whine like a baby.” She stuck her tongue out at him in response.

Eventually, he led her to the far end of the soccer field, where a wide old tree stood, its branches thick and curved like arms waiting to embrace. There was a large red blanket already laid out on the grass, with a basket in the center and two tumblers beside it.

“You… brought a picnic?” Eve blinked.

Zeke grinned. “Technically, I just put food in a basket. That counts, right?”

She laughed. “I mean… yeah. It’s actually kind of cute.”

“Don't say that,” Zeke teased. “You’ll ruin my brooding-guy image.”

They both sat down, the grass soft beneath the blanket. Zeke unpacked the food—two tuna sandwiches, mango slices, a small box of rice crackers, and two packs of ube-flavored mochi.

“You found ube mochi?” Eve asked, eyes wide.

“Step-mum’s favorite,” Zeke replied, biting into his sandwich. “She’s Filipina. She keeps stuff like this in the pantry. I sort of raided it for you.”

Eve paused, touched. “That’s… really thoughtful.”

Zeke shrugged. “You’ve been a huge help with the game. Consider this your bonus.”

They ate quietly for a few minutes, the breeze tugging gently at Eve’s hair. She leaned back against the trunk of the tree, feeling the sun kiss her skin. Zeke was beside her, one leg bent, hands on his tumbler.

“Can I ask you something?” she said softly.

“Shoot.”

“Why NYU?”

Zeke looked ahead at the soccer field before answering. “I wanted to be… independent, I guess. My dad’s work keeps him in London most of the time, and I just...” He sighed, “..needed space to figure out what I want. Not what everyone else wants me to be.”

Eve nodded slowly. “I get that.”

“My stepmum’s always been supportive, though,” Zeke added. “She cooks for me every time I come home on break. Makes this sisig and kare kare that could literally raise the dead.”

Eve laughed, heart warming. “I miss Filipino food. I miss home, actually.”

Zeke glanced at her. “Manila , right?”

She nodded. “Actually im from Laguna and my family is residing now but i was raised in Las Pinaa, I’ve always dreamed of studying here. NYU was this huge, shining goal for me. But some days…” Her voice softened. “Some days it’s hard. Like I gave up the people I love for this.”

He didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he got up, walked a few feet away, and picked up his soccer ball that had been leaning by the tree. Then, spinning it slowly on one finger, he walked back and held it up between them.

Eve blinked. “What are you doing?”

Zeke smiled. “Just checking. You’re back to your weird face. Not the sad one.”

She narrowed her eyes and swatted the ball out of his hand, laughing.

And just like that, the heavy ache in her chest faded.

They talked for over an hour, sharing little things like favorite cartoons, pet peeves, weird food combinations. They found out they both hated celery but loved cereal at night. Zeke confessed he once cried over a Pixar movie, and Eve admitted she still sleeps with a stuffed bear from childhood.

Time slowed around them. The world outside their little picnic didn’t matter. Laughter came easy. Smiles came easier.

They didn’t notice how close their hands were resting on the blanket.

They didn’t realize that their silence now felt more comfortable than most conversations with others.

They didn’t even say the word friendship but something warm and unspoken passed between them, like a leaf dancing quietly in the air.

Meanwhile...

Ames sat on the bench outside the dorms, elbows resting on his knees, eyes locked on the pavement.

Marcus sat beside him, sipping a soda.

“You okay?” Marcus asked, nudging him.

Ames didn’t answer right away.

But when he did, it was quiet.

“I don’t know what I’m feeling.”

And maybe, for the first time, he really didn’t.

♤ END OF CHAPTER 6♤