Chapter 11: Avoidance Tactics

Ethan woke with a pounding headache, the remnants of restless dreams clinging like fog. Caleb's face, those blue eyes locking across the gym, haunted him. He groaned, burying his head under the pillow. Alex's side of the room was empty, a note on the desk: Early class. Coffee run later? Spill about gym ghost.

Ethan dragged himself up, showering quickly to wash away the night. No more close calls. Today, avoidance went pro level.

He mapped it out over breakfast in the dining hall, alone, at a corner table. New routes: enter the psych building through the east door, avoid the quad between 10 and 2 when classes changed. Library? Third floor only, the quiet zone no one popular used. Gym? Switch to mornings or the smaller rec center across campus.

His phone buzzed. Group chat with Mia and Jordan.

Mia: Lunch at union? 12:30?

Ethan: Can't. Study group. Rain check?

Jordan: Everything ok?

Ethan: Yeah just busy.

Lies to friends felt wrong, but explaining Caleb's reappearance? Not ready. The thought of recounting the high school nightmare, the recent sightings, made his stomach churn. He needed control first.

First class was smooth, no sightings. He slipped in late, out early. Between lectures, he holed up in a remote study lounge, headphones blasting indie playlists to drown thoughts. Pages of notes filled, but focus wavered. Every shadow outside the window looked tall and blond.

At therapy, Dr. Ramirez eyed him knowingly. "You seem more tense this week. Shoulders up to your ears."

Ethan spilled: the quad, coffee shop, gym stare down, bonfire nod. "He's everywhere. I feel paranoid rerouting my life like a fugitive."

"Avoidance is valid short term," she said. "Protects you while you process. But long term? It shrinks your world. What feelings come up when you see him?"

"Anger. Hurt. Panic." Ethan paused. "And... annoyance that he's still hot. Old attraction sneaking back. Hate it. Makes me question if I ever moved on."

"Attraction doesn't vanish because of pain," she replied gently. "It's separate from trust. Acknowledge it without acting. Boundaries are key. You're doing that by creating space."

"Working on it. But exhausting."

After session, Ethan hit Bean There for a solo shift, midday, low risk. Carla had him training a new barista, a chatty freshman who kept mistakes coming. Busy hands helped. Customers blurred: lattes, cappuccinos, smiles forced but functional.

Closing alone, he locked up cautiously, scanning the path. Clear. Relief flooded as he walked briskly to the dorm.

Alex ambushed him with takeout Thai. "Okay, details now. Gym encounter? Bonfire nod? You've been dodging."

Ethan recounted everything over pad thai, fork stabbing noodles harder than needed. "Just stared at the gym. Nodded at the fire like we’re acquaintances. But it's like he's orbiting, waiting."

Alex leaned in, eyes wide. "Stalker vibes? Or groveling ex energy?"

"Both?" Ethan sighed deeply. "I switched my whole routine today. New doors, new spots. Even lied to Mia about lunch."

"Smart move short term. But don't let him steal your campus." Alex squeezed his shoulder supportively. "You're stronger now. This is your space."

Night brought more meticulous planning. Ethan pulled up the campus map on his laptop, marking safe zones in his notes app. Gym at 6 a.m. tomorrow. Library carrels prebooked online. Alternate coffee shop for morning caffeine fixes. He even timed class changes to duck into bathrooms or side halls.

Texts flew in the alliance group about an upcoming fall festival booth. Ethan RSVP'd yes. Crowds were perfect cover.

Sleep came fitful, dreams of blue eyes watching from shadows, closing in no matter how fast he ran.

Next days blurred into mastery of evasion. Mornings: rec center run on treadmill, quick shower, east door dash to class. Lunch in hidden courtyards with packed sandwiches from home. Afternoons: third floor library fortress, buried in books.

Sightings dropped to zero. Victory tasted sweet, but hollow.

Tension lingered constantly. Every tall figure made him flinch inward. Every deep laugh sounded too familiar, sending pulses racing.

In next therapy update: "Avoidance working like clockwork. No encounters this week."

"Good progress," Dr. Ramirez said. "But check in with yourself regularly. Is it freeing? Or exhausting? Notice the cost."

"Both," Ethan admitted. "Freeing because no panic attacks. Exhausting rerouting everything."

Week two brought a small wrinkle. His advanced psych elective syllabus email dropped, group project announced for next class meeting. Partners assigned randomly in session.

Ethan's stomach knotted tightly. Odds were low in a lecture of eighty. Please not him...

He pushed the dread down, focusing on control.

Alliance bonfire night finally arrived as reward. Ethan went with the full crew, bundling in thick hoodies against autumn chill. Fire crackled high, s'mores ingredients passed around, stories shared under string lights. Laughter felt real, unguarded.

For hours, muscles relaxed, guard lowered.

Then, across dancing flames, a familiar figure materialized.

Tall. Blond hair catching firelight.

Caleb.

Standing casually with a small mixed group, red cup in hand, eyes scanning the crowd.

Their gazes met through flickering orange light, heat warping the air between.

Ethan's heart slammed against ribs.

Avoidance cracked wide open.

Caleb didn't approach or wave. Just nodded slightly, almost respectful, before turning back to his conversation.

Ethan looked away fast, gripping his marshmallow stick tighter until wood creaked.

His marshmallow caught fire, blackening quickly.

He blew it out, smoke curling.

The tactics held.

Barely.

But fate, it seemed, laughed from the shadows, other plans brewing.

Ethan stared into flames, resolve hardening again.

He wouldn't break first.

Not this time.