Chapter 6
1469 Words
March 16, 11:04 AM — Lecture Hall B3
Raya slipped into her usual seat—third row from the front, right-hand side. Not too eager, not too invisible. Perfect line of sight to the whiteboard and the professor’s expressions.
Tessa flopped into the seat beside her with the grace of a falling bookshelf. “Why did I think this class would be relaxing?”
“Because you’re chronically optimistic,” Raya replied, pulling out her notebook.
“Or chronically delusional. Could go either way.”
Professor Min walked in, coffee in one hand, a stack of printouts in the other. The lecture began before anyone could breathe.
Raya tried to focus on the slides flashing across the screen—Modernism, Fragmentation, The Death of the Author—but her brain kept drifting back to yesterday. The meeting. The spark of actual momentum. Ryan’s annoying calm. Eli’s wink. Tessa’s chaos.
A weird little smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Unprofessional, she scolded herself silently, flipping a page.
A note landed on her notebook.
Tessa (in barely legible handwriting):
“Is Ryan hot or is he just so serious that it’s confusing my senses?”
Raya blinked.
Underneath, she scribbled:
“He’s not unhot. But he’s definitely serious. Like… library police serious.”
Tessa drew a tiny police hat and passed it back with a smirk.
From the next row over, their friend Hana glanced at them with the knowing look of someone who absolutely knew they weren’t paying attention.
Mid-lecture, Raya’s phone buzzed in her lap.
She glanced down casually.
[CLUB ALERT]
Literary Festival Team – meeting today at 6 PM. Mandatory. See you there.
Raya sighed.
Tessa peeked over, already glancing at her own notification. “Well, they’re not wasting any time.”
“Didn’t we just finish the first one?”
“Apparently your charm wasn’t enough to buy us a day off,” Tessa muttered.
Raya gave her a dry look. “You were the one shouting about colour code and aesthetics .”
“Creative vision never sleeps.”
Hana, two seats down, leaned over and whispered, “Are you guys planning a concert or a cult? Because I’m interested either way.”
Tessa pointed to the slide. “Ask Virginia Woolf. She’d probably say both.”
They tried to refocus as Professor Min launched into a deep analysis of T.S. Eliot, but the buzz of 6 PM still lingered in Raya’s mind.
Back to the boardroom.
Back to ideas.
Back to them.
That Eve – 5:40 PM
Raya stood in front of the meeting room door, sipping lukewarm vending machine coffee and pretending she wasn’t fuming already.
Of course, she was early. Of course, Ryan wasn’t.
5:58. Still no sign.
5:59—click. The door opened, and in strolled Ryan Reynolds. On the dot. Calm. Casual. Like time bent for him.
“Evening,” he said like he hadn’t just skipped up the steps with exactly zero urgency.
“You’re cutting it close,” Raya said, stepping inside with him.
“I’m not late,” Ryan replied with a smirk.
“I didn’t say you were.”
“You sounded like you wanted to.”
She did.
Inside the room, Tessa was already at the whiteboard, drawing a bubble chart that looked more like a conspiracy theory than a plan.
“There you are! Took you long enough,” she said, not looking up. “Raya’s been pacing like she’s planning a heist.”
“I don’t pace,” Raya muttered.
“She paces,” Ryan confirmed.
“Traitor.”
Before they could continue arguing, Eli burst in with a bag of muffins, two energy drinks, and that too-cool grin that made girls around campus suddenly forget how to speak.
“Team meeting!” he announced like he was the host of a game show. “Brought sugar and sarcasm. Who’s ready to crush this?”
He tossed a muffin at Tessa. She caught it one-handed.
“Legend,” she grinned.
Then he turned to Raya, gently sliding a chocolate chip muffin her way. “Thought you might need a pick-me-up, Sunshine.”
Raya blinked. “Why does everyone keep calling me that?”
“Because you glare like the sun,” Eli said with a wink. “Blinding but beautiful.”
Tessa made a dramatic gagging noise.
Ryan just took a sip of his coffee.
“So,” Eli said, dropping into the seat next to Raya. “What’s the big plan? Themes? Decor? Can I pitch my ‘Live Poets, Laughing’ idea again?”
“No,” said Ryan.
“Absolutely not,” said Raya.
“Rude.”
“We need something fun,” Tessa chimed in. “Not boring or serious. What about… something around stories people don’t tell? Like, secrets, unsent letters, things people wish they said?”
“Ooh, I like that,” Eli nodded. “Call it ‘The Untold.’”
“That’s not bad,” Raya admitted.
Ryan tapped his fingers on the table. “We could have a confession wall. Anonymous letters. Spoken word. Flash fiction stations.”
Tessa’s eyes lit up. “And an audio booth! Where people can record their untold stories.”
Raya grinned. “Now we’re talking.”
“Look at us,” Eli said. “Functioning like a real team. No passive-aggressive staring contests yet.”
“I’m evolving,” Raya said, mock-serious.
“Proud of you.”
Ryan gave her a look. “We’re only five minutes in. Let’s not jinx it.”
Tessa raised both hands like a coach. “Okay, okay—teams. Eli and I will brainstorm the interactive stuff. Raya and Ryan, you two are the brains of this whole thing, so figure out the big structure.”
Raya and Ryan both turned to her at once.
“You planned this,” Raya said flatly.
“Oh, obviously,” Tessa smirked. “Now go have fun, kids.”
As Tessa dragged Eli to the whiteboard, he shot one last grin over his shoulder. “Don’t miss me too much, Sunshine.”
“I won’t,” Raya called.
“Liar.”
Ryan tilted his head as they left. “He flirts with everyone, doesn’t he?”
“Only the ones with a working brain,” Raya shot back.
Ryan chuckled. “So… us. Cool.”
She tried not to smile. Failed.
“Alright, Reynolds,” she said, cracking her knuckles. “Let’s build a festival.”
He nodded, pulling out his notebook. “Try to keep up.”
“Oh please,” she scoffed. “You’re already three ideas behind.”
“You wish.”
They settled into their usual rhythm—him, calm and annoyingly precise; her, sharp and fast-paced. Ideas flew, scribbles filled the margins, and the whiteboard started to look like something real.
For once, they didn’t argue much.
Just enough to keep it interesting.
The meeting rolled on, laughter mixing with brainstorming, and by the time the clock hit 8:42, everyone looked like they’d just survived a creative war zone.
Tessa was the last one packing up. “I’m gonna run and print the draft I’ve been working on for the event zine,” she said, tossing her bag over her shoulder. “It’s just something rough, don’t judge.”
“You say that every time,” Eli grinned.
“And I mean it every time,” she shot back.
Raya lingered behind to help stack chairs. Ryan was off talking to another member about logistics. Alone for a moment, Raya reached for a stray USB left behind on the table. Tessa’s. Labeled Untold Drafts.
She hesitated.
Then plugged it in.
A folder popped up:
FinalZineIdea.docx
Unsent (Ryan).txt
Portrait of R.txt
Untold: a campus story
Curiosity burned. She clicked Untold: A campus story.
It was fiction. Names changed. But barely.
The girl in the story was intense. Quiet, calculating.
Fierce. Smart. Tired. Always trying to stay five steps ahead of feelings she refused to name.
She had fire in her and a storm she kept bottled up—because letting it out meant someone might finally see how much she felt.
Raya read in silence.
Some lines hit too close.
A moment by the vending machine.
A fight over festival themes.
A line that mirrored something she said in passing—something private.
It wasn’t cruel.
But it was raw.
And it was her.
She unplugged the drive.
Sat there a second longer, pulse steady but sharp.
Tessa hadn’t meant harm. That much she could tell.
But still… the way she’d been seen—it unsettled her.
She looked up as Tessa returned, waving printed pages. “Got it! Think I’ll need your help editing.”
Raya smiled—tight, thoughtful.
“Sure,” she said. “Happy to read it.”
- Writer
