Drift
1138 Words
It had been a week since the confessions.
Westbrook University moved on with its usual rhythm—assignments piled up, clubs held their meetings, and the campus lawn buzzed with students taking in the last days of mild autumn. But for Elliot and Jace, time seemed to tick slower, every day a subtle echo of what hadn’t gone the way they hoped.
They hadn’t spoken much since that night. Not really. Not like before.
Elliot sat alone under the oak tree where Ava had gently turned him down, the leaves now starting to fall in copper and gold. His journal lay open in his lap, but the words wouldn’t come. Every time he tried to write, it came out hollow.
He missed how it used to be — the three of them laughing over ramen, Jace teasing him during study breaks, Ava’s thoughtful reminders when he forgot to eat or sleep. But now, everything had shifted.
Especially with Jace.
It wasn’t that Elliot blamed him. They’d both fallen into the same hope, misreading kindness as affection. But it was hard to ignore the lingering silence between them. Jace hadn’t texted. Hadn’t stopped by the library. It was like they'd become ghosts in each other’s lives overnight.
Elliot stared at his phone, thumb hovering over Jace’s name.
He didn’t type anything.
—
On the other side of campus, Jace was in the gym, but not playing. He sat on the bench, watching the others shoot baskets without him, earbuds in but no music playing. He wasn’t in the mood.
He'd expected rejection to sting, but not linger. Not like this. Ava had been kind. Honest. But the truth still cut deep: she never saw him that way. She probably never would.
He hadn’t told anyone how much that night had knocked the air out of him. He hadn’t told anyone that when he got back to his dorm, he sat on the floor in the dark for an hour.
And he definitely hadn’t told anyone that the thing eating at him most wasn’t just Ava.
It was Elliot.
He kept replaying their last conversation. The way Elliot had looked at him after the ramen night. The way they’d both sat in silence, knowing exactly what the other was feeling, but too proud to say it.
And now?
Now they were both pretending the other didn’t exist.
—
The following day, fate — or maybe just Ava — intervened.
She caught up with them in the courtyard, clutching two envelopes.
“I signed us up for the campus charity walk this weekend,” she announced, practically bouncing.
Jace blinked. “You signed me up?”
“And me,” Elliot added, appearing behind her with a forced smile.
She nodded. “You’re both coming. No arguments. You could use some fresh air and forced friendship.”
“We’re fine,” Jace muttered.
“You’re not,” she said bluntly, handing them the registration tags. “You’ve been avoiding each other since the confessions.”
Elliot looked at the ground.
“I don’t want what we have to fall apart because of this,” Ava added, voice softening. “Please. Just spend some time together. Be awkward if you have to. But don’t shut each other out.”
The boys exchanged a glance.
Reluctantly, they both nodded.
—
Saturday arrived with a clear sky and crisp breeze. The walk started at the far end of campus and looped through the nearby nature trail, a scenic path with golden trees and crunchy leaves underfoot.
Dozens of students were already there, chatting, stretching, laughing.
Ava had to bow out last minute due to a family emergency, but she texted both boys the same message:
"Go together. Talk. Don’t be idiots."
So, they walked.
Side by side, hands in their jacket pockets, not speaking at first. The trail was quiet save for the sounds of birds overhead and gravel underfoot.
After about ten minutes, Elliot broke the silence.
“She said no to both of us.”
Jace gave a short laugh. “Yeah. Brutal symmetry.”
“I thought... maybe you’d be mad at me.”
“Why?” Jace asked.
Elliot shrugged. “We both liked her. I thought you might think I got in the way.”
Jace stopped walking, turning to face him.
“I wasn’t mad,” he said. “I was just... embarrassed. And tired. Of pretending I didn’t care. Of not knowing what you were thinking.”
Elliot met his eyes. “I missed you.”
Jace’s jaw twitched. “Same.”
They started walking again, slower now.
“You know,” Jace said after a while, “when I saw her hugging you after your confession... I thought maybe I’d already lost.”
Elliot looked down at the path. “I thought the same when she came to your games and cheered like you were the only one playing.”
They both chuckled softly — the absurdity of it finally cracking the tension.
“You ever think,” Jace continued, “maybe we weren’t really in love with her?”
Elliot raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“I mean... maybe we were both chasing this idea of her. Because she was safe. She was always there. She made us feel seen. But I don’t know if I ever really knew her that way.”
Elliot considered that. “I think... I just wanted someone to make me feel less alone.”
They walked in silence for a few more steps.
Then Elliot added, “But I never felt alone when I was with you.”
Jace looked at him — something unspoken passing between them. A flicker of understanding. A warmth neither of them had words for yet.
Elliot gave a faint smile. “We’re idiots.”
“Yeah,” Jace said, laughing. “But at least we’re idiots together again.”
—
As they reached the end of the trail, the sun began to dip behind the trees, casting long shadows and painting the sky in streaks of orange and lavender.
They stood there, not quite ready to go back.
Jace glanced at Elliot, hesitating. “Can I ask something?”
“Sure.”
“When you wrote that letter to Ava... were you scared?”
Elliot nodded. “Terrified.”
“Me too,” Jace said. “And I think... maybe I was scared because I didn’t know what it would mean if she said no. Not just about her. But about what would happen to us.”
Elliot looked at him, really looked.
“We’re still here,” he said quietly.
“Yeah,” Jace whispered. “We are.”
And for the first time in a long while, it felt like enough.
Like the beginning of something new.
- Writer
