Zoey:
Later that afternoon, I was in the library, trying to make sense of my literature review. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like they had a personal grudge against my sanity. My laptop screen looked like chaos — journal tabs, citation pages, academic PDFs that made my brain feel like mashed potatoes. I had typed two paragraphs in the past hour, both of which I hated, when another notification popped up on my phone.
Alex: Do you like Italian food?
I blinked at the screen. My fingers froze above the keyboard.
Was this man serious?
I typed back before I could overthink it.
Me: It’s fine. Why?
A few seconds later, another message came through.
Alex: There’s a place near campus that does great pasta. Dinner? 7 p.m.
My jaw dropped a little. Dinner? Just like that? No “how are
