Chapter 1: Texting Before Meeting
The ceiling fan’s hum was the only sound, a steady white noise beneath the frantic tap of my thumbs on my phone screen. Half-unpacked boxes still slumped in the corner of my dorm room, a monument to my chaotic move-in week. The lavender scent from the dryer sheet I’d tucked under my pillow last night clung to the air, a failed attempt to make this sterile space feel like mine.
My entire body was coiled tight around my phone.
The screen glowed, illuminating my last message to Katy Guo, sent an eternity ago—twenty-three minutes.
Vy: hey! sorry to bother you. i was looking at the course portal and saw you took HIST205 with carson last year. was the final paper as brutal as people say?
A stupid question. A safe question. The kind of question a first-year asks a junior she barely knows but has been low-key stalking online for months. My roommate Christy was out somewhere, probably already making a dozen new friends, which meant I was free to bury my face in my pillow and scream after hitting send.
The phone buzzed in my hand. I flinched.
Katy: hey! no bother at all. carson’s paper is mostly about synthesis, not just reciting facts. it’s long but if you pick a topic you’re actually interested in, it’s not bad. i wrote mine on post-war japanese economic policy & film. he liked that.
A paragraph. A warm, detailed, helpful paragraph. My heart did a stupid, giddy somersault against my ribs. I typed back, my fingers flying now, emboldened by the dim room and the digital distance.
Vy: that sounds actually cool. i was thinking of something with korean development but film is a way more interesting angle. ty! this saves me from a full existential crisis.
Katy: haha, save the existential crisis for econ 103. trust me.
Vy: don’t say that, i’m already registered for it. you’re in that too right? maybe i’ll see you in there. to have a joint crisis.
I sent it before I could choke on my own audacity. Maybe I’ll see you in there. As if the sight of her in a lecture hall wouldn’t short-circuit my nervous system. In person, Katy Guo was a different species. Tall, with a runner’s posture and a face so striking it felt like a physical object. Beautiful in a way that made my throat go dry. She had this reserve, an unapproachable aura that melted completely when she smiled one-on-one, which I’d only witnessed from a distance.
My phone buzzed again.
Katy: definitely. it’s a tues/thurs 10am in pendleton. a cruel time for econ. i’ll be the one chugging cold brew in the back.
I grinned, rolling onto my back, holding the phone above me. In this little rectangular universe, I was witty. I was capable of flirting, or something adjacent to it. Here, I wasn’t Vy the flustered first-year who blushed when a dining hall worker