Rewrite the stars with you

Chapter 13: The Midnight Chat

It was well past midnight when Becky sat on her bed, mindlessly scrolling through her phone. She had finished her homework hours ago, and now, she was in the perfect mood to relax. Her room was dimly lit, with the only glow coming from her phone screen. As she flicked through i********:, t****k, and a couple of memes, something caught her eye—Carlos’ **w******p status**.

Becky rolled her eyes at the usual overload of memes, but one particular meme made her pause. It showed a group of girls, all with exaggerated stiff poses, awkwardly posed with chopsticks. The caption read: *“Some girls are chopsticks, not upright women.”*

Becky stared at it, eyebrows furrowing. *“Is he talking about Ceci?”* she muttered to herself, though part of her already knew the answer. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this meme was aimed squarely at **Ceci**, the girl who was so obsessed with Carlos that it was almost cringe-worthy. Becky had heard enough gossip to know the two were supposedly **engaged** (or something equally ridiculous) in some fairy-tale version of reality, and Carlos was clearly over it.

Her finger hovered over the chat with Carlos, and without giving it much thought, she typed out:

*“Are you talking about Ceci in that meme?”*

For a few minutes, there was no response. Becky wasn’t even sure if he was awake—after all, he was the guy who never seemed to get up before noon. But then, her phone buzzed.

*“I don’t know what you mean.”*

She chuckled at his nonchalant response. Typical Carlos—always playing it cool.

*“Come on, Carlos. That meme is so obvious. You’re talking about her, aren’t you?”* Becky typed back, a smirk tugging at her lips. It felt good to tease him for once.

Carlos’ reply came after a slight delay:

*“It’s just a joke. Don’t take it too seriously.”*

*“Right, because memes about girls being chopsticks are *always* a joke,”* she typed sarcastically.

But something in Carlos’ message made Becky pause. It was too casual. Too much like he wasn’t giving a straight answer. She decided to keep the conversation going, feeling like maybe, just maybe, this was the right time to get him to talk.

*“I mean, seriously. Do you really think that meme is funny? Or are you just being petty?”*

Carlos responded after a while:

*“Yeah, I get it. It’s petty. But sometimes, you need a little fun, you know? Life gets boring.”*

Becky smirked, leaning back against her pillow. *“Well, I’ll tell you what’s boring: pretending to be in a relationship that isn’t even real.”*

*“Ouch. Tell me how you really feel,”* Carlos replied with a wink emoji. *“But you’re not wrong. I don’t get the whole ‘engaged’ thing either. It's... messy. Ceci and I? We're not engaged, we're just... dealing with things.”*

Becky felt a small satisfaction at Carlos admitting that. It was clear now that his relationship with **Ceci** was just as much a **pain in the ass** for him as it was for everyone else.

*“Well, whatever it is, I don’t think you should keep making memes about it.”*

*“I’ll make all the memes I want,”* Carlos shot back, *“and maybe I’ll just post a meme about girls who pretend they have it all together when they’re secretly chaos. *You* know, just for fun.”*

Becky couldn’t help but laugh at that. *“Sounds like something you’d do.”*

For a moment, they sat in silence, and Becky realized just how comfortable she was talking to Carlos, despite all the teasing and bickering. There was something about their conversations that felt... different. Almost **real**, in a way she hadn’t expected.

And then, as if by unspoken agreement, they both veered into something completely different. Carlos typed:

*“You ever heard of this song ‘Gunta’? It’s a Spanish thing. Kinda... explicit, but it’s funny as hell.”*

Becky raised an eyebrow at her screen. *“Wait, are you trying to get me into Spanish songs? Because trust me, I can do better than that.”*

Carlos responded, clearly amused:

*“Let’s see. Show me what you got. Gimme your best line.”*

Becky didn’t hesitate. She quickly typed a few lines of a song she knew well, feeling a bit cheeky about it:

*“A veces uno no sabe lo que quiere, hasta que lo tiene.”*

Carlos replied immediately, *“Perfect. That’s exactly what I meant.”*

Becky felt a surge of unexpected warmth. *“You actually listen to Spanish music?”* she asked, almost incredulously.

*“What can I say? You’d be surprised how much I know about stuff like that.”*

Becky smirked again, *“Well, you just keep surprising me, Carlos.”*

And so they continued to chat, moving from topic to topic, talking about everything from **music** to **food** to the weirdest classes they’d ever taken. Every message felt like a little bridge between the two of them, bringing them closer. Every response, no matter how silly or deep, felt like an invitation to be more **real**.

The chat took a different turn when Carlos suddenly got serious. *“Do you ever feel like you’re wasting time with people who don’t care?”*

Becky didn’t know how to answer that. The question was too loaded, too close to home. She typed a simple response instead:

*“Yeah. I think everyone feels that way sometimes.”*

Carlos didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he sent a funny gif of a dog spinning in circles.

*“Well, that’s enough of the deep stuff,”* Carlos wrote. *“Let’s go back to the memes. Don’t wanna get all sentimental on you.”*

Becky laughed out loud. She didn’t realize how much she’d missed a conversation like this—one that was **light**, funny, and easy, without any pressure.

But then, as the clock ticked on, she realized it was **1:00 AM**. **She had been chatting with Carlos for almost two hours.** Time had completely slipped by. She yawned, looking at the time, then back at the conversation, almost reluctant to end it.

*“You know,”* she typed, *“I should probably sleep. You’re making me lose track of time here.”*

Carlos replied almost instantly, *“Oh, now you’re blaming me? Classic.”*

*“It’s all your fault. You’re too funny.”*

Carlos sent a few laughing emojis and then wrote, *“Goodnight, Becky.”*

Becky felt a strange flutter in her chest. **Goodnight.** Was it just her, or did that sound... different?

*“Goodnight, Carlos.”*

Carlos sent one final message. *“I’ll be awake when you wake up. Promise.”*

Becky chuckled and set her phone down. She lay back in her bed, her thoughts swirling. **Carlos was different than she thought.** But in a way that made her wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than the arrogant jock she’d always thought him to be.

And as she drifted off to sleep, a smile played on her lips, the feeling of their conversation lingering in her thoughts like a **warm afterglow**.