Chapter 2: Three's a Crowd
The silence in the dorm room the next morning was thick and brittle, a fragile truce layered over the electric tension of the night before. Ace moved with deliberate quiet, pulling on a worn band tee over her sports bra, the fabric catching momentarily on the damp ends of her dark hair. She avoided looking directly at CC’s bed, focusing instead on lacing up her high-top sneakers. The memory of CC’s wide, startled eyes, the frantic blush, the way her breath had hitched… it replayed in Ace’s mind, a confusing mix of triumph and vulnerability tightening her chest. She’d pushed, seen the reaction, but CC’s retreat into stammering denial left a hollow ache beneath her swagger.
Across the room, CC burrowed deeper under her comforter, pretending intense interest in her phone screen. The glow illuminated the lingering pink high on her cheekbones. Every rustle of Ace’s movement felt amplified. The echo of Ace’s low voice asking ‘Like what you see?’ vibrated uncomfortably in her bones. She hadn’t slept well. Images of defined abs and dark, challenging eyes kept intruding, tangled with a confusing flutter low in her stomach she absolutely refused to name. Textiles were safer. Much safer.
"Gonna grab coffee?" Ace finally asked, her voice carefully neutral, breaking the strained quiet. She slung her backpack over one shoulder, keys jingling in her hand. "Drowning my sorrows in caffeine before Bio."
CC peeked over the comforter edge. "Um, yeah. Yeah, okay. Coffee sounds… essential." Her voice was still a little breathy. She scrambled out of bed, grabbing a soft, oversized pink cardigan and pulling it tightly around herself, as if seeking armor.
The walk to "The Grind" was stiff. Conversation, usually effortless, stuttered and died. They navigated the crisp autumn morning air, fallen leaves crunching underfoot, the awkwardness a palpable third presence between them. The coffee shop offered a welcome sensory overload upon entering – the rich, bitter aroma of roasting beans, the hiss of the espresso machine, the low hum of dozens of overlapping conversations, the clatter of ceramic mugs. Warmth and noise wrapped around them, a buffer against the strange new tension.
They claimed their usual spot: a worn, deep-seated burgundy couch tucked into a corner near a large window overlooking a busy campus pathway. Sunlight streamed in, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Ace sprawled in her usual corner of the couch, legs extended, radiating a coolness she didn't entirely feel. CC perched on the opposite end, knees drawn up, nursing her vanilla latte like a lifeline, her green eyes scanning the room with unusual intensity, avoiding Ace’s gaze. She traced the rim of her mug, the silence stretching again despite the surrounding buzz.
Suddenly, the awkward bubble burst with the arrival of a hurricane named Liam Miller. He swept towards them, arms wide, a flamboyant scarf trailing dramatically over his shoulder, his dark curls bouncing. "Darlings!" he announced, his voice cutting through the ambient noise. "Rescue me from the existential dread of Professor Hendrick’s Baroque Theatre lecture! My soul withers!" He flopped dramatically onto the couch between them, narrowly avoiding CC’s latte. His sharp, observant eyes flickered between them instantly, missing nothing of the rigid posture, the averted glances, the heavy air.
"Whoa," Lee said, leaning back, his theatrical demeanor dialing down into genuine concern. He looked from Ace, who was studying the ceiling tiles with undue interest, to CC, whose cheeks were rapidly turning a familiar shade of crimson. "What crawled into your Cheerios this morning? Did someone spill nail polish on CC’s favorite sketchbook again?" He nudged Ace playfully. "Or did Ace here finally admit she thinks my rendition of Lady Macbeth was tragically overwrought?"
Ace snorted, a reluctant smile touching her lips. "Your Lady Macbeth was tragically overwrought, Lee. It’s a fact, not an opinion." She finally met his gaze, a silent plea for normalcy in her dark eyes.
But CC, flustered by Lee’s sudden scrutiny and the unbearable weight of the unspoken thing between her and Ace, panicked. The words tumbled out in a breathless rush, high-pitched and slightly desperate. "I need dating advice!"
Silence. Lee blinked, momentarily speechless. Ace froze, her mug halfway to her lips. Her knuckles whitened on the ceramic handle. The casual posture vanished, replaced by a sudden, rigid stillness. Jealousy, sharp and acidic, flooded her throat, almost choking her. She kept her eyes fixed on a stain on the wooden coffee table, forcing her expression into careful neutrality, a mask slipping firmly into place over the unexpected burn.
Lee recovered first, leaning forward with avid interest. "Dating advice? From me? Sweetie, I specialize in drama, not heteronormative courtship rituals. But spill! Who’s the lucky, presumably male, individual who’s cracked the CC Davis code?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, completely oblivious to the storm brewing beside him.
CC floundered, her mind racing. She hadn't thought this through. At all. She scrambled for a name, any name that wasn't the tall, smirking woman sitting rigidly beside Lee. "Uh… Ben? Ben from my Textiles seminar?" It was the first name that popped into her head. Ben was real – a quiet, lanky guy who mostly talked about sustainable hemp blends. "He… uh… he asked about my project yesterday? And smiled? It was… nice?"
Ace’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. Ben? Smiled? Nice? The words were so mundane, so utterly wrong compared to the charged moment they’d shared, they fueled the jealous fire inside her. She took a slow, deliberate sip of her black coffee, the bitterness mirroring her inner state.
"Oh, Ben!" Lee exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "Tall, floppy hair, looks perpetually surprised? Adorable! Okay, basics. Textiles seminar is good. Shared interest. Did he ask you out, or are you plotting a move?"
"Neither!" CC squeaked, her blush deepening. "I just… I don't know how to… talk to him? Like, that way? What do I even say?" She chanced a glance at Ace, who was now staring fixedly out the window, her profile unreadable. The sight made CC’s stomach twist strangely. This was a terrible idea.
Lee, ever the enthusiastic strategist, launched in. "Okay, conversation starters. Compliment his work! Ask deeper questions about hemp fiber strength – show genuine interest! Light, flirty touch on the arm, maybe? Gauge reaction! Ace," he swiveled, nudging Ace’s stiff shoulder, "back me up here. You observe people, Walker. What’s the play?"
Ace slowly turned her head. Her dark eyes met CC’s for the first time since Lee arrived. They were shuttered, cool, betraying none of the turmoil beneath. That familiar smirk was back, but it was brittle now, edged with something hard. "The play?" Ace’s voice was low, controlled. "Sure. Yeah. Go for it, Davis. Ben seems…" She paused, searching for a word that wouldn’t betray her. "…Nice."
Lee rolled his eyes. "Helpful, Ace. Truly inspirational." He turned back to CC. "Ignore the emotional brick wall. My advice stands. Be charming. Be interested. See where it goes." He gave CC an encouraging wink.
CC felt sick. Ace’s cool dismissal, the flat "nice," it stung more than she expected. It felt like a door slamming shut on… something. Something she hadn't even fully acknowledged. "Right," she mumbled, staring into her latte. "Charming. Interested. Got it."
Ace pushed herself up from the couch abruptly, the movement sharp. "Gotta bolt. Bio awaits." She didn't look at CC. Her gaze landed on Lee. "You’re on wingman duty, Miller. See you losers later." The casual nickname lacked its usual warmth. She grabbed her backpack and strode out of the coffee shop, her tall frame cutting through the crowded space with a determined energy that felt more like an escape.
Lee watched her go, eyebrows raised. "What crawled up her ass this morning?" He muttered. Then he turned back to CC, his expression softening with sudden understanding as he took in her dejected posture, the way her eyes followed Ace’s retreating back. "Oh, honey," he sighed, patting her knee gently. "You didn't really want advice about Ben, did you?"