THE TROUBLE I FELL FOR

8- Flicker

I didn’t turn around.

Not even when I felt the weight of his gaze still lingering on my back.

I just kept walking, down the courtyard steps, through the soft buzz of campus chatter, all the way to the edge of the gravel path where I could finally let out a quiet breath.

He was getting too comfortable. That much was clear.

Coffee?

As if this was some casual meet-cute and not an academic mentorship with a clear structure, purpose, and most importantly boundaries.

I reached home sometime later, the air in my room cooler than I remembered, but still not enough to settle the restlessness creeping beneath my skin. I closed the door behind me, quietly, as if too much noise might shatter the calm I was trying to cling to. Then I slid down against it, knees pulled to my chest, my forehead resting against them.

For a while, I didn’t move. I just sat there, breathing, grounding, trying to push back the quiet wave building in my chest. But the silence had its own weight, it pressed against me until the walls I’d so carefully built over the past years started to c***k around the edges.

I hated that conversation, that one stupid, out-of-line invitation that had shaken something loose in me. Something I had locked away a long time ago. The memories were coming back again. But I have moved on from it, so why am I feeling like this. Like I had no control over my emotions anymore.

I stood up slowly, brushing the dust from the back of my skirt, and walked over to my desk. My chest still ached, a deep, dull throb and I pressed my palms against it in slow, round circles, trying to calm the storm inside. It didn’t help much, but it was something.

Then my phone rang.

The sound sliced through the silence like a thread snapping. I glanced at the screen. Bianca.

I picked it up but didn’t say anything. Just held it to my ear.

“Alyssa?” her voice came through, laced with concern. “Hey… are you okay?”

Still, I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My throat felt too tight, heavy with emotions to let the words out.

There was a pause on her end. A quiet sigh. “I’m coming over. I’m sleeping at your place tonight. Don’t argue.”

She didn’t wait for me to protest, just hung up.

And for the first time all day, a tiny part of me exhaled. Not relief or comfort. But something close to not being alone.

A short while later, I heard the front gate creak open and the familiar thud of Bianca’s footsteps approaching. She always walked like she had somewhere important to be even when that place was just my room.

I unlocked the door before she could knock.

She stood there with a bag slung over her shoulder and a tub of ice cream in her hand, like some overly-prepared emotional support soldier.

“Hi,” she said gently, stepping inside without waiting for permission.

“Hi,” I murmured back, my voice barely audible.

Bianca gave me a long look but didn’t push for more. That was the thing about her, she never made me explain the things I wasn’t ready to say out loud.

She walked past me, kicked off her shoes, and headed straight for the bed. “Scoot,” she said, patting the space beside her.

I sat next to her, knees pulled back to my chest again. We passed the ice cream tub between us in silence, the television on in the background playing some mindless rom-com neither of us cared about.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours.

“I know you won’t tell me,” Bianca said quietly, eyes still on the screen. “But whatever’s going on in that overworked brain of yours… it’s okay to feel it. You’re allowed.”

I didn’t answer.

I just leaned my head against her shoulder.

And for tonight… that will be enough.

After a while, the silence between us settled into something quieter, more comfortable. The warmth of Bianca’s presence did what no amount of deep breathing or cold air could, it softened the tightness in my chest.

I exhaled slowly, my voice barely above a whisper. “He asked me out.”

Bianca turned toward me, confusion flickering across her face. “Who?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.

Her lips tightened. “Cole?”

I gave a slight nod.

She straightened, eyes narrowing like she was preparing for war. “What did he say?”

“It wasn’t anything dramatic, he said it in a playful, funny way to maybe get a rise out of me.” I replied, trying to downplay the flutter in my chest. “He just… slipped it into our conversation. Said I owed him coffee if he survived the study plan.”

Bianca scoffed. “Wow. Real smooth.”

“And the other day, over text… he called me ‘baby.’”

Her mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”

“I didn’t respond,” I added quickly, “and I told him earlier to stop with all of that. I made it clear this isn’t something he should be playing around with. And I made it clear to him that I didn't like these kind of jokes. And that I expect him to take things seriously, to take me seriously."

She didn’t say anything at first. Her gaze locked on mine, like she was reading all the things I hadn’t said out loud yet.

Bianca’s expression shifted, something softer creeping into her features. She didn’t speak for a moment, but her eyes didn’t leave mine, like she was reading between the lines, peeling back layers I hadn’t even acknowledged yet.

Then she said it. Quiet, almost cautious.

“He crossed your mind, didn’t he?”

A beat passed. And then I whispered, “For a second.”

There was no hiding the frustration in my voice as I added, “God, I’ve never hated a person this much. My skin is burning.”

Bianca burst into laughter, loud and sudden. I blinked at her for a second before my own smile betrayed me.

I laughed too, shaky at first, but real.

The kind of laugh that let the air in again. The kind that reminded me I hadn’t completely lost control. Not yet.

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I stared at my phone longer than I should have. She hasn't texted me yet.

Not even the little “typing…” bubble to give me false hope. Just silence.

I wasn’t surprised, not really. I knew I was pushing it. The nickname, the coffee comment, all of it. But I wasn’t doing it to annoy her. Okay, maybe a little. But mostly... I wanted to see if she’d flinch. If she’d react.

Alyssa had this steel-spined composure that made most people back off before even getting close. But today, for the briefest moment, I saw it, that flicker, that sadness behind her eyes when I asked her out for fun. It wasn’t annoyance. It wasn’t amusement. It was something else.

Something that made me regret ever asking her out for coffee. She looked like she was about to punch me and then cry. I didn't know why she was sad and I wanted to know the reason why.

God, she was in my head more than she should be. Alyssa was all I could think about. I was curious about her.

I tossed my phone onto the desk and dragged a hand through my hair. The textbook in front of me sat untouched, still open to the same page it had been an hour ago. Lines of formulas blurred into one another, my focus shot.

I needed a cigarette. The room felt too damn heavy, so I pushed back the chair and stepped out onto the balcony. It lit up on the first try, and I took a slow drag, letting the smoke curl past my lips.

Each inhale was steady, deliberate, more habit than relief, but it gave my thoughts something to cling to. Something to quiet the noise in my head.

This mentorship was supposed to be about my improvement, not sparks. But here I was, two sessions in, already distracted.

And it wasn’t just the way she looked, though she did manage to pull off that no-nonsense, head-in-the-books vibe with an elegance that was kind of unfair. It was the way she spoke, the way she moved, how her eyes narrowed when she thought I wasn’t paying attention. How she didn’t laugh easily, and how it felt like a win whenever she did.

I should’ve backed off after she shut me down.

But something told me if I did, I’d never get the chance to see behind that calm exterior again.

Not unless I earned it.

I came back inside my room, picked up my pen and twirled it between my fingers, then finally looked down at the notes she made in my margins during our last session. Her handwriting was neat. Purposeful. Underlined in two places was the phrase “Don’t overthink this.”

Too late for that, princess.

I sighed, leaned back in my chair, and stared at the ceiling.

I wasn’t sure what exactly I was feeling. Attraction? Curiosity? Obsession?

Or maybe it was just the thrill of finding someone who didn’t fall into step with my rhythm.

Alyssa didn’t chase. She didn’t flirt. She didn’t bend. And maybe that’s why part of me was already too far gone.

I leaned forward again, scanning her notes in the margins. God, she was so thorough. Every comment was straight to the point, no fluff, just honest corrections. She wasn’t trying to prove anything. She just wanted me to get it right. Like it mattered to her.

That was the part that messed with me the most.

Most people tolerated me, smiled when I pushed boundaries, laughed when I crossed them. Alyssa didn’t. She didn’t pretend. She didn’t play. She showed up, did her part, and left. But somewhere between her calm tone and pin straight hair, I caught a glimpse of something else. Not weakness...no, never that. But something... raw. Real.

And now I couldn’t stop chasing it.

I reached for my phone again before I could stop myself. No. Give her space.

Still, my thumb hovered over the screen. Maybe I could just send something casual. Nothing pushy. A meme? A dumb joke? Something to break the silence?

I locked the phone and tossed it back down.

Pathetic.

I wasn’t supposed to care. This whole mentorship was a formality. A checkmark. And yet, here I was, losing my mind over a girl who barely tolerated my presence.

I got up again, pacing the room like a caged thing, another cigerette in my hand, running through every second of our last session like a film reel stuck on loop. That flicker in her expression, it wasn’t nothing. I knew sadness when I saw it. I’d worn that same look myself more times than I liked to admit.

But what haunted me most was the thought that maybe I’d caused it.

I paused, hand resting on the windowsill, eyes scanning the dusky skyline. Maybe I was overthinking it. Maybe she just had a bad day. Or maybe I poked a wound I didn’t even know was there.

Still. I wanted to understand her. Not to fix anything. Just... to know.

And if I had to work for it, if she made me earn every inch of trust she had buried under that guarded calm?

Then fine. I would.

Even if it meant biting back every careless joke, every teasing grin, just to keep from pushing her further away.

Because for the first time in a long time, someone made me want to be more than just tolerable.

She made me want to be worth knowing.

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