Chapter 13: Friend's Counsel

Ethan stormed into the dorm after the second library meeting, slamming the door hard enough to rattle Alex's art supplies on the shelf. Alex looked up from his sketchpad, eyebrows shooting high at the dramatic entrance.

"Rough study sesh? You look like you wrestled a bear and lost."

Ethan dropped his bag with a thud and paced the small room like a caged animal, hands raking through his hair. "He's in my group project. Random assignment, sure. Caleb freaking Stone. Sitting across from me, bringing my exact coffee order, deferring on every idea like I'm the expert."

Alex's mouth formed a perfect O. "The universe has a sick, twisted sense of humor."

"Tell me about it." Ethan flopped face first onto his bed, voice muffled by the pillow. "And when our hands brushed—total accident, reaching for the same printout—it was like electricity shot up my arm. I hate that my body reacted. Hate that he noticed and looked sorry about it."

Alex whistled low, spinning his chair to face him. "Succulent tension alert. Full blast."

"It's not funny, Alex." Ethan's voice cracked as he rolled over, staring at the ceiling. "I told him project only. No us. But his eyes... those lingering looks in class now too. Like he's seeing right through my walls, waiting for them to drop."

Alex softened immediately, moving to sit on the bed's edge. "Hey. Breathe with me. You've got every right to be guarded. He wrecked you once. Publicly. That's trauma, not a minor oops."

"Exactly." Ethan hugged his knees to his chest. "But part of me keeps wondering if he's actually different now. The apologies feel real, the space he gives, the way he doesn't push personal talk. What if he's really changed?"

"That's the dangerous part," Alex said gently. "Second chance fantasies are hot in theory. Absolute chaos in reality. Especially when old attraction is still simmering."

Ethan groaned. "It's boiling. And I hate myself for it."

"You shouldn't. Feelings aren't choices. Actions are." Alex squeezed his shoulder. "I think you need more than my chaotic counsel. Group vote?"

"Yes," Ethan said quickly. "Called Mia and Jordan already. Emergency session tonight."

"Good call. Four heads better than two."

By 8 p.m., the dorm was packed: Mia crosslegged on the floor with a family size bag of chips, Jordan perched quietly on the desk chair taking slow sips of soda, Alex and Ethan on their respective beds. Blankets and pillows turned the space into a makeshift therapy circle.

Ethan recounted everything in detail—the project pairing shock, the coffee gesture that hit like a memory bomb, the accidental touches that sparked unwanted heat, the lingering gazes in lecture halls that made his skin prickle.

Mia crunched a chip thoughtfully, eyes narrowing. "He remembered your exact coffee order after three years? That's either genuinely sweet or deeply calculated manipulation."

"Calculated," Ethan said firmly, though doubt flickered. "Trying to worm under my skin."

"Or sweet and deeply regretful," Jordan offered in his soft, measured voice. "People do evolve, especially after losing everything. Therapy, distance, consequences—they can change someone."

Ethan groaned louder. "Not helping, Jordan."

Mia shot Jordan a playful glare before turning back to Ethan. "Look, babe. He humiliated you publicly in front of the entire senior class. That's not something a few polite emails and coffee orders erase. You owe him absolutely nothing. Not forgiveness, not friendship, not even basic kindness beyond civility."

"Agreed," Alex chimed in. "But forced proximity for ten weeks means boundaries have to be titanium. Professional only. If he veers personal, shut it down immediately. Cold. Clear."

"What if I weaken?" Ethan whispered, voice small. "The attraction's still there. Stronger now, honestly. He's... intense. Quieter. More mature. It messes with my head."

Mia's expression softened as she reached over, squeezing his hand tight. "Then you lean on us hard. Text an SOS emoji during meetings—we'll fake an emergency and extract you. Or one of us joins as buffer. I'll crash with 'research questions.'"

Jordan nodded. "And keep unpacking it in therapy. Process the attraction separately from trust. One doesn't automatically grant the other."

Ethan managed a watery smile, gratitude swelling. "You guys are literally the best humans."

"Damn right we are," Mia grinned, tossing him a chip. "Operation Protect Ethan's Heart is officially activated. Code word: stars. Text that, we swarm."

The mood lightened after that. They shifted to planning the upcoming alliance drag night—Mia volunteering to emcee, Alex designing posters, Jordan handling sound. Laughter filled the small room, genuine and healing, easing the tight knot in Ethan's chest until it loosened just enough to breathe.

After Mia and Jordan left with hugs and final pep talks, Alex lingered, cleaning up wrappers. "For real, though. You're allowed to feel conflicted. Trauma and desire can coexist. Just don't rush forgiveness or anything else. You deserve to heal at your pace."

"I won't rush," Ethan promised. "Project focus only."

He journaled late into the night, pages filling fast under dim lamp light.

Friends say stay guarded. They're right. The counsel anchored me tonight. But his gaze today—soft, like he still sees me as something precious. That spark from touch still burns on my skin. Dangerous heat. Have to ice it over completely. Project focus only. Can't let him crack me open again.

The next class brought more lingering gazes: Caleb glancing back briefly during lecture breaks, eyes warm and fleeting before dropping respectfully. Never pushing. Always leaving space.

Library meeting three approached. Ethan steeled himself with friends' words echoing.

Caleb nodded without argument. "Got it. Completely."

But as Ethan left the library, cool night air hitting his face, he felt that familiar gaze on his back. Heavy with unspoken wanting.

Friends' counsel echoed loud: guard up, lean on us, process separately.

It helped. Truly.

But temptation whispered louder with every meeting, every glance.

The walls held—for now.

Thanks to counsel that felt like armor.

But deep down, Ethan wondered how long before a single spark melted it all.