Chapter 8
1309 Words
Hey, excuse me—sorry to interrupt.”
They all turned.
A girl stood there with a calm smile, holding a tote bag with a tiny “Cats > Capitalism” pin on the strap. Her dark hair was clipped up messily, a few strands falling over her forehead. Oversized sweatshirt, plaid skirt, Converse—like she’d walked straight out of a campus zine. And she is cute.
“I’m Hana. Sophomore. I heard you’re the team handling the literature booth for the festival?”
Raya nodded. “Hey Hana! That’s us. You interested?”
Hana smiled. “Just wanted to know what’s planned. I’m not officially on anything, but I heard it’s open for volunteers?”
Tessa’s eyes lit up. “Absolutely. We’re drowning in logistics and bad handwriting. Welcome to the madness.”
“Perfect,” Hana said, shifting her bag higher. “Just don’t make me read slam poetry in public. I cry too easily.”
Ryan looked vaguely amused, but mostly unreadable. He just gave a brief nod in her direction—friendly, casual—then turned his gaze back to Raya like nothing happened.
But Eli…
Eli blinked.
Once.
Twice.
And then looked away fast, taking a big sip of his coffee like he was suddenly very invested in the bottom of his cup.
Tessa noticed immediately. “You good?”
“Mhmm.”
“Weird tone. Sounded like your soul just hiccupped.”
“Nope. Just caffeine. Strong brew.”
Raya side-eyed him. “You’ve literally never been this quiet in your life.”
"Not gonna flirt?" , Tessa teased.
Hana tilted her head slightly. “Are you all always like this?”
Tessa: “Unfiltered chaos with a tight Google Doc schedule? Yes.”
Raya: “You’ll get used to it. Or run.”
Hana said grinning, “No promises either way.”
Ryan finally spoke, cool and disinterested: “We’ll send you the updated spreadsheet tonight. You’ll find your name under Fresh Meat until someone renames it.”
“Wow,” Hana laughed. “Very welcoming.”
She moved to stand beside Tessa and Raya, already sliding into the circle like she’d always been there. But every now and then, her eyes flicked to Eli—who, for some reason, was pretending she didn’t exist.
Ryan noticed.
Sipped his coffee.
Didn’t comment.
But his eyes lingered just a second longer than necessary before turning back to Raya’s checklist.
Morning Literature Class. Boring.
Rows of creaky wooden desks, a chalkboard that never gets used, and a professor with a passion for metaphors no one asked for. Early morning classes are like torture.
Raya sat near the window, her pen already tapping a rhythm into the margin of her notebook. She wasn’t taking notes so much as mentally correcting the professor’s lecture structure.
Tessa slouched next to her, one knee propped up on the bench as she lazily scribbled in her notebook. She was doodling twisting vines and tiny thorns curling around the dramatic, all-caps word “DOOMED” at the top of her page — the ‘O’ turned into a skull, and little exclamation marks turned into wilting flowers.
And Hana?
Hana had always been there.
Same major. Same year. A quiet presence in the background—neat notes, polite nods, someone you passed in the hallway but never really saw.
Maybe the universe had just been waiting for the right moment.
Today, it gave them a shared row and a boring lecture. A small spark.
They’d purposefully claimed the same row—Raya right in the middle, as if by silent agreement. Tessa plopped down on one side with her usual dramatic flair, while Hana settled on the other, books stacked neatly, posture straight. She looked like the kind of girl who had her life together, but probably had three existential playlists on loop.
She is pretty and kind. And looked so.
Professor Wren droned on at the front of the class. “Romanticism wasn't merely a literary movement—it was a rebellion against the industrial soul.”
Tessa whispered, “If I hear the word ‘soul’ one more time, I might launch mine into orbit.”
Raya didn’t look up. “Focus. He’s definitely putting this in the quiz.”
“I am focused. On surviving.”
Hana leaned in with a half-grin. “ Why is it always like this?”
Tessa whispered back: “Yeah? Remember He once compared Keats’ poetry to a ripe pear on the verge of rot. Still not sure if it was praise or a breakdown.”
Raya: “Both. Probably.”
They giggled—low and sharp—just enough to draw a look from the front.
“Miss Smith, do you find Shelley’s despair amusing?”
Raya blinked. Cool and unbothered. “No, sir. Just tragically relatable.”
The professor gave a noncommittal grunt and moved on.
Hana turned to her with a low chuckle. “That was smooth.”
Tessa nodded. “She eats existential dread for breakfast.”
Raya shrugged like it wasn’t even a flex. “With coffee.”
The three of them settled into a rhythm—commenting under their breath, trading notes, defending or roasting characters. It was easy. Effortless, even.
At one point, Hana turned slightly. “So... does Ryan always look that grumpy, or is that just festival stress?”
Tessa gasped dramatically. “You noticed.”
Raya didn’t say anything—but the corner of her mouth tugged up.
Just barely.
Then she went back to underlining a passage with aggressive precision.
Hana raised an eyebrow. “Did I step on something?”
Tessa leaned closer like she was about to whisper classified information. “Let’s just say Reynolds brings out her most poetic insults.”
Raya: “Shut up.”
Tessa: “See?”
They all laughed under their breath again—three girls in sync, the beginning of a new triangle of chaos, logic, and mystery.
And somewhere, deep down, Raya wondered when exactly she’d started enjoying this.
After class...
They ended up at Roasted Beans, a café that smelled like caffeine and deadlines. Tessa was the one who dragged them there—claiming she “needed sugar before her brain gave up and joined a cult.”
Raya slid into the booth first, Tessa plopped down beside her, and Hana took the spot across, already peeling the lid off her iced latte like it was a science experiment.
“So,” Tessa said, stirring aggressively. “How does it feel, Hana? First unofficial hangout with campus goblins.”
“I feel initiated,” Hana smiled. “Raya even let me walk beside her without burning me alive.”
“She’s warming up,” Tessa grinned. “Next step, full sarcasm blast.”
Raya just rolled her eyes, sipping her americano. “I’m rethinking this entire friendship already.”
They laughed, bickered over muffin flavors, and complained about the group project with that one guy who thought “Google it” was an academic contribution.
Then—Raya’s phone buzzed.
She checked it without much thought… and immediately sighed.
Ryan: [Update: Vendor list is done. Eli says—and I quote—“where’s scary-smart poetry girl?”]
Raya: [ Scary-smart? He’s not wrong.
Tell him I’m recharging my soul with caffeine and sarcasm. Fueling up before we return to the chaos.]
Ryan: [You’re missing the chaos. It’s quieter without your death stares.]
Raya: [Don’t get used to it.]
Ryan: [Wouldn’t dare.]
Raya smiled at her phone, just barely.
Tessa leaned in. “Is that him?”
“Unfortunately,” she muttered.
Hana raised an eyebrow. “That’s a very soft smile for someone unfortunate.”
Raya shoved her phone back in her pocket. “I will throw a muffin.”
Tessa grinned. “She didn’t say no.”
- Writer
