Chapter Three: Same Seminar, Same Desk

I barely slept.

Someone stood outside my door last night. They didn’t knock or say anything, just stayed there long enough that I couldn’t ignore it. When the footsteps finally went back down the stairs, I was sitting on my bed, hands in my lap, staring at the door as if it owed me an explanation.

They didn’t knock; I didn’t open the door either. That made us even.

By morning, I managed to feel almost calm. I had a seminar at nine, a project due in three weeks, and a scholarship because someone important thought I should be managed instead of ignored. I already had enough on my mind without adding Danny Blancham. I nearly believed that, at least until I walked into the lecture hall and saw his name on the attendance sheet.

Danny Blancham. Architecture and Urban Design, Section 4. My section.

I stopped in the doorway, lost in thought, when I heard someone clear their throat behind me. It hit me then; I had no idea how long I’d been there, frozen in place.

I spotted him two rows back.  He looked tired, not untidy, looking like sleep had shown up and quit halfway through. Then he caught me looking. I looked away first. I quickly chose a seat as far away from him as possible, but in a small room like this, it was barely six feet of comfort.

I could hear two of my classmates whispering behind me.

"Is that really him? The Blancham heir?" one asked, incredulous.

"No way, right? I thought he was overseas." The other responded quickly, "Apparently not.

He actually switched into this class just last week." There was a pause, then the first one said, "Wait, he switched into it? Seriously?"

I went very still.

I pulled out my notebook, uncapped my pen, and wrote the date at the top of a blank page like I had something to write. I didn't write anything else for four minutes.

Professor Calloway didn't care about any of that, obviously. "I'm assigning project partners," she announced, scanning her roster like she was picking teams for something far more painful than architecture. "Blancham and Darius. You two are paired for the semester."

"If you don't like your partner," Professor Calloway said without looking up from her list, "take it up with destiny or administration. They ignore complaints equally."

My stomach dropped straight through the floor.

I opened my mouth to object with some half-formed excuse about scheduling, but she'd already moved on, completely oblivious to the chaos she’d just caused in my life. Everyone around us was already grabbing their stuff, moving on to new partners like it was just another Tuesday.

Danny pulled out the chair next to me and sat down. He didn't say anything at first, just set his sketchbook on the desk between us like it was a peace offering or a boundary marker, and honestly, I couldn’t tell either.

We both knew we could ask to switch partners, but we didn't. I caught his glance, and it felt like we were sharing the same unspoken thought.

We didn’t speak for the rest of the lecture. Professor Calloway filled the room with sketches, deadlines, and design theory, but I couldn't have repeated a single sentence afterward. Every time I reached for my notebook, I became painfully aware of him only a few inches away.

When class finally ended, he took his time packing up, moving slowly, like he wanted to give me a chance to speak if I had something to say.

I wanted to. God help me, I actually wanted to.

“Myra,” he said quietly, just for me. It was different from the way he’d said it at the gala, more intimate, like it was ours alone.

I zipped my bag instead of answering.

"I swear, this wasn’t my idea," he said, frustration etched on his face. I hesitated, unsure if I could trust him.

I looked him in the eye. “Look, let’s just stick to the project.” “That’s it. Nothing else.”

His smile disappeared. He nodded slowly, like he was agreeing to terms he had absolutely no intention of actually keeping. I hated that I still knew the difference.

"Sure," he said. "Just the project."

For one second I almost asked him why. Why now, why after eleven months of nothing, why wait until I'd finally taught myself to wake up without checking for a message that never came. The questions sat right there behind my teeth, heavy and impatient, and I swallowed every single one of them anyway.

I grabbed my bag and walked out first, fast, before my face could betray every single thing I was working so hard to hide. In the corridor, a classmate fell into step beside me, grinning. "So you and the Blancham heir, huh? Small world."

"It's a project. That's all."

"Sure," she said, in the same tone Della always used. Like the whole world already knew something I was still trying to outrun.

Outside, students spilled across the courtyard, laughing about assignments and weekend plans like that was an actual problem worth having. I almost envied them for it. Mine had just walked back into my life wearing the same eyes I'd spent a year trying to forget.

I made it to the stairwell and stopped! Right there by the door, pinned up for everyone to see, was the official partner list. I had walked right past it when I came in.

Blancham, D. and Darius, M. were highlighted in yellow, just like all the others. My phone buzzed, and I waited ten seconds before looking at it.

Tomorrow. 9 am. Don't be late.

I stared at it longer than I should have. Then I put my phone away and walked out into the cold.