MORNING PRESSURE
1619 Words
My phone is already vibrating when I open my eyes.
Not an alarm. Not one long buzz. Short ones. Repeated. Like it’s impatient with me for sleeping through something important.
I groan and roll onto my side, dragging the blanket over my head before reaching out blindly. The screen lights up my room.
Notifications. Too many.
I blink, frown, sit up.
Three texts. Two DMs. One missed call.
All from different people.
None from Eric.
That registers immediately, even before I open anything. My thumb hovers over his name out of habit, then stops. I lock the screen instead and drop the phone back onto the bed like it might bite me.
Okay. Breathe.
I grab it again almost immediately.
The first message is from a girl I barely talk to.
hey… are you okay?
No context. No follow-up. That’s never a good sign.
Another one, this time from a guy in my program.
Saw you last night. Hope everything’s cool.
Saw me where? Doing what? With who?
My jaw tightens.
The missed call is from Bella.
Of course it is.
As if summoned by the thought, my phone starts ringing again. Her name flashes across the screen, obnoxiously cheerful.
I answer without saying hello.
“Good morning to you too,” Bella says, breathless already. “Okay, don’t panic.”
“I wasn’t,” I say, staring at the wall. “You saying that makes me want to.”
“Fair. But listen. We have a situation.”
I swing my legs off the bed. “Define situation.”
“Someone talked,” she says immediately. “Actually— multiple someones. And they all think they’re being subtle, which is honestly the worst part.”
I rub my face. “About what.”
Bella exhales hard. “About you. And Eric. And the club. And the fact that people apparently have eyes.”
I stand, pacing now. “What exactly are they saying.”
“That you were together,” she says. “Which— before you yell at me — is not untrue, but it’s also not true the way they’re saying it.”
“And how are they saying it.”
There’s a pause. Too long.
“Bella.”
“Okay,” she rushes. “Nothing explicit. No one’s being brave enough for that yet. It’s more… implication-coded.”
I stop pacing. “Explain.”
“Stuff like ‘interesting pairing,’ or ‘didn’t know that was a thing,’ or my personal favorite, ‘guess Apex is really networking these days.’”
My stomach drops.
“That last one,” I say slowly, “was said by who.”
She hesitates again.
“Bella.”
“Someone who knows people,” she admits. “Which means this could spread.”
I close my eyes. “Did you say anything?”
“No,” she says quickly. “I restrained myself. Heroically.”
“That doesn’t sound like you.”
“I know. I’m growing.”
I sit back down on the bed, phone pressed to my ear, staring at the pile of clothes on my chair like they might offer guidance.
“Janyia,” Bella continues, softer now. “Do you want me to handle it?”
“Handle it how.”
“I can shut it down,” she says. “Publicly. Loudly. With witnesses.”
“I don’t want noise,” I reply. “I want information.”
“Okay,” she says, immediately adjusting. “Information I can do.”
I glance at my phone again, scrolling through the unread messages. More have come in.
Still nothing from Eric.
“Has he said anything?” Bella asks quietly.
“No.”
“Not even a ‘you good?’”
“No.”
She sighs. “That’s… annoying.”
“Don’t,” I warn. “Don’t make this about him.”
“I’m not,” she says. “I’m making it about the fact that you’re dealing with this alone.”
I don’t respond.
She lets the silence sit for a second, then says, “What do you want to do.”
I look at the messages again. The careful wording. The fake concern. The people who suddenly remember I exist now that there’s something to speculate about.
“I’m not explaining myself,” I say finally. “Not preemptively. Not defensively.”
“Good,” Bella says. “That’s hot.”
I ignore her.
“If someone has a question,” I continue, “they can ask me directly. Otherwise, I’m not chasing rumors.”
There’s a beat.
“I like this version of you,” Bella says. “She’s calm but threatening.”
“I’m not threatening.”
“You are if people underestimate you.”
Another message pops up. This one shorter. Sharper.
Didn’t realize you and Eric were that close.
I stare at it.
“That’s it,” Bella says immediately. “Give me the name.”
“No,” I say. “Not yet.”
“Janyia—”
“I said not yet.”
She exhales. “Okay. But I’m on standby.”
“I know.”
I end the call before she can add anything else and drop the phone onto the bed.
Then I pick it up again.
Still no message from Eric.
I stare at his name for a long second, then lock the screen without tapping it.
Fine.
I get up and start getting ready like the day isn’t already leaning in on me.
Whatever people think they saw last night, I’m not hiding from it.
And I’m definitely not apologizing for it.
The phone vibrates again behind me.
I don’t turn around right away.
The room doesn’t go silent when I walk in.
It just… adjusts.
Conversations don’t stop — they thin. Voices lower. Someone laughs half a second too late. I feel it immediately, that shift people swear doesn’t exist when they’re the ones doing it.
I keep my face neutral and walk like nothing’s different.
Bella isn’t with me yet, which means I don’t have my usual buffer. I take my seat, set my bag down, pull out what I need. My hands are steady. That part surprises me.
A girl two rows over glances at me, then at her friend. They whisper. Not discreetly. Not boldly either. That careful middle ground where people think they’re invisible.
I don’t look at them.
Someone slides into the seat beside me.
“Hey,” she says brightly. Too brightly. “How was your night?”
There it is.
“Fine,” I answer.
She nods like she expected that. “You were out, right?”
I turn to her then, finally. “Was I?”
She laughs, a little stiff. “I just meant— people said they saw you.”
“People say a lot of things,” I reply.
She studies me, clearly deciding whether to push. “Eric was there too, right?”
Casual. Like she’s asking about weather.
“Yes,” I say.
Nothing else.
She waits. I don’t fill the silence.
“Oh,” she says finally. “Okay.”
She looks disappointed. That tells me everything.
Across the room, I catch someone else watching me openly now. Not curious — evaluative. Like I’ve moved categories overnight.
Good to know.
A voice cuts in from behind me. “Is this seat taken?”
Bella drops into the chair next to mine without waiting for an answer, bag thudding loudly. She looks around, slow and deliberate, then smiles.
“Wow,” she says. “The energy in here is weird.”
I close my eyes for half a second. “Bella.”
“What?” she asks innocently. “I can feel it. Can’t you?”
The girl beside me stiffens and suddenly finds her phone fascinating.
Bella leans closer to me. “People are absolutely talking.”
“I’m aware.”
“Some of them are bad at pretending.”
“I’m also aware of that.”
She grins. “Do you want me to make it worse or better?”
“Neutral,” I say. “Aim for neutral.”
Bella sighs dramatically. “You never let me have fun.”
An instructor walks in, conversation snapping back to life like nothing happened. I focus forward, pen moving, posture calm. If they’re expecting me to unravel, they’re going to be disappointed.
Halfway through, I feel it.
That awareness again.
I glance up.
Eric Dusine is across the room.
He doesn’t look at me right away. He’s focused, professional, perfectly composed. When his eyes finally lift, they meet mine for less than a second.
No expression. No acknowledgment.
Then he looks away.
Something sharp twists in my chest — not longing. Irritation.
Bella notices immediately. Of course she does.
“Oh,” she whispers. “That’s rude.”
“He’s being careful,” I murmur.
“Careful can still hurt.”
I don’t answer.
The session ends. Chairs scrape. People stand too quickly or linger too long. I pack my things without rushing.
Someone brushes past me and says, “See you,” in a tone that sounds like a question.
I nod and step aside.
Bella leans in. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say. And I am — mostly. “But this isn’t staying quiet.”
“No,” she agrees. “It’s marinating.”
I sling my bag over my shoulder and head for the door. Eric exits the opposite way without looking back.
I don’t follow him.
Not because I can’t.
Because I won’t.
If this is going to turn into something, it won’t be because I lost my footing first.
- Writer
