Trapped in Your Hands

CHAPTER 5: Her Name on My Screen

The city outside the bus window blurred into streaks of light and shadow, but I wasn’t really seeing any of it. I was still stuck in the warmth of that bed, in the lingering ghost of Jiejie’s touch, in the way she had looked at me, half-asleep and completely unguarded.

I should be panicking. I should be over-analyzing everything, picking apart every moment from last night, trying to make sense of what this meant.

But all I could think about was how I hadn’t wanted to leave.

My phone sat in my lap, heavy with the weight of something new. Her contact was there now—Jiejie, just a tap away. And yet, I hesitated.

I wanted to text her.

I wanted to send something—anything—just to see her name light up on my screen, to know she was still thinking about me, even after I had walked out of her door.

But what would I even say?

Thanks for last night? Thanks for breakfast? Thanks for ruining my ability to think about anything else?

I sighed, dropping my head back against the seat.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

She was—what? Older? Out of my league? A literal celebrity?

I barely even knew her, and yet, she had already started taking up space in my mind like she belonged there.

By the time I got back to campus, the early morning chill had settled into my bones. Everything around me felt painfully normal—the quiet hum of students walking past, the rustling of trees, the distant sound of laughter. It was almost jarring, the way the world just… continued. As if nothing had changed.

But something had.

I had.

I climbed the stairs to my dorm, unlocked the door, and dropped onto my bed with a deep exhale. The sheets were cold, unfamiliar. Not like Jiejie’s bed—warm, soft, safe.

I turned onto my side, staring at my phone again.

I tapped open w******p, my fingers hovering over her name.

Jiejie.

I bit my lip.

Maybe she was just being polite. Maybe this was nothing to her—just another passing moment in a life full of fleeting things.

But for me?

I wasn’t sure I could pretend this was nothing.

Before I could stop myself, I typed out a message.

Thank you for breakfast.

I stared at the screen for a second, then deleted it. Too formal.

Did you get some rest after I left?

Delete. Too concerned.

I groaned, throwing my phone onto the pillow beside me.

I had never been this ridiculous over someone before.

And yet, as I closed my eyes, the only thing I could see was her smile.

I unlocked my phone, stared at the blank chat window, and locked it again.

Then unlocked it.

Typed out a message. Deleted it.

Typed another one. Deleted that too.

Good morning, Jiejie. Too plain.

Did you sleep well? Too eager.

Thank you for last night. No, absolutely not. That sounded wrong in every possible way.

I groaned, throwing my phone onto my bed and burying my face in my pillow. Why was this so hard? Just a simple message. A casual text. People do this all the time. But every time I tried, my fingers felt too heavy, my thoughts too messy. What if I was being annoying? What if Jiejie was just being polite when she asked for my w******p?

What if last night didn’t mean the same thing to her as it did to me?

The thought sat heavy in my chest, pressing down like a weight.

I decided—no, convinced myself—that maybe I should just wait. If she wanted to talk to me, she would. If she didn’t… well, I’d rather not know the answer to that.

And then, as if she had heard my silent turmoil, my phone vibrated.

Jiejie: Little babe, did you get back safely?

I stared at the screen, heart jumping into my throat.

She texted me first.

I scrambled to sit up, unlocking my phone so fast that I almost dropped it. My fingers hovered over the keyboard. Reply. Reply! Say something cool. Say something casual. Say—

Me: Yes! I just got back.

Too fast. I should’ve waited at least a few minutes before replying. Now she’d know I was waiting.

Jiejie: That’s good. You must be tired. Rest well, okay?

I grinned like an i***t, hugging my pillow.

Me: Okay! You too, Jiejie!

It became a pattern after that. She always messaged first—sometimes just a simple greeting, sometimes something funny she saw that day. Each time, I responded immediately, my excitement barely contained.

At first, I hesitated to text her first. What if she was busy? What if I was bothering her? But then one night, as I lay in bed scrolling through our chat, I found myself typing without thinking.

Me: Jiejie, have you eaten yet?

I hit send before I could overthink it. My heart pounded.

Three dots appeared almost immediately.

Jiejie: Not yet. Are you worried about me, Little babe?

I buried my burning face into my blanket before forcing myself to reply.

Me: Of course! You have to eat properly!

Her response came with a photo—takeout on her coffee table.

Jiejie: Eating now, per your orders.

I stared at the message, warmth blooming in my chest. I had worried about nothing. Jiejie didn’t mind my messages. In fact, she seemed to enjoy them.

From that night on, I texted first sometimes too. And every single time, she replied.