California

The sweet potato fries were starting to cool down.

I realized this because I had been watching them for ten minutes and the steam had disappeared, plus Chandler had looked at my tray twice without saying a word, which meant he was about thirty seconds away from commenting.

The cafeteria was buzzing with the usual Thursday noise, that specific lunch chatter that echoed off the ceilings and came back even louder. Our table was located in the outer ring near the drink machines, where we had settled since freshman year and never moved, far enough from the main tables to have some space but close enough to observe everything. The social dynamics at this school weren’t really about the tables themselves. It was more about who could see whom from where, and we had claimed a good spot.

Noelle was in the middle of telling a story about her ASL teacher, her hands animated, fully engaged like she always was when she had an audience. Maekynzie rested her chin on her hand, listening intently, her lip gloss flawless. Emory was munching on chips straight from the bag, his chestnut eyes crinkling every time Noelle delivered a punchline. Tinsley had her elbows on the table, her bottle-green eyes staring off into space, which indicated she was either bored or deep in thought, and it was always hard to tell which. Stetson was sitting across from Chandler, legs stretched out under the table, half-focused on his phone, just like he did with everything.

Chandler was on my left. That was simply where he always sat. It had been that way since freshman year when the seating arrangement fell into place and nobody questioned it, not even me.

I picked up my lemon tea and set it back down without taking a sip. Turkey and Swiss on wheat, sweet potato fries, lemon tea. The same Thursday lunch it always was. I had ordered it on autopilot, and now it sat in front of me like a duty I couldn’t figure out how to fulfill. Just one bite taken from the sandwich. Fries getting cold.

The ache was in my left thigh, deep along the femur, that low, constant pressure that had lingered all morning during English and Algebra, and even while walking across the building, which took a bit longer than it should have. I had already shifted my position twice under the table, redistributing my weight carefully enough that no one noticed. Or at least, no one said anything. Those two things didn’t always mean the same thing.

“You’re not eating,” Chandler remarked. Quietly, just for me, while Noelle was telling her story.

“I’m eating.”

He glanced at the sandwich. Then he looked at me. He had that special kind of patience that comes from knowing someone long enough to realize that waiting is often better than pushing.

“I’m getting to it,” I replied.

“Okay.”

He returned to his own food. I picked up a fry and ate it. It was cold but still tasty, my stomach accepting it without much excitement. I leaned slightly toward him without even thinking about it, catching a whiff of his shampoo, ocean mist and mint, the same scent he’d used for as long as I could remember, and I still noticed it every single time without intending to.

At some point, without deciding to, I rested my head on his shoulder.

He didn’t move. He didn’t shift away, didn’t make a joke, didn’t do anything except stay exactly where he was. The fabric of his hoodie felt soft against my cheek.

“Eat something,” he urged.

“I had a fry.”

“A fry.”

“Several fries.”

“Mm.”

I sat up and took a real bite of the sandwich. He didn’t say anything, which was the right response.

Noelle straightened up, signaling that she was about to make an announcement. The table adjusted itself automatically, as Noelle’s announcements were always significant.

“Saturday,” she announced. “Drive-in. Double feature horror marathon. I checked the showtimes, and if we leave by seven, we can catch both films.”

“Which ones?” Emory asked.

She listed the titles. Maekynzie made a sound that mixed excitement with a bit of dread, pressing her hands down on the table as if to brace herself. Tinsley nodded once, which was basically a huge compliment coming from her. Emory immediately said he was in and quickly started suggesting rules for the horror segment, particularly about who could cover their eyes and if doing so meant you couldn’t comment on the plot later.

“That’s not a rule,” Maekynzie replied.

“It should be a rule,” Emory insisted. “It’s a social contract.”

“You covered your eyes for forty-five minutes at the last one.”

“That was just a grace period. I was getting used to it.”

Chandler muttered something under his breath, prompting Emory to point at him as if he’d been caught doing something wrong. I popped another fry into my mouth and let myself get lost in the chatter for a moment, which was easier than thinking. My thigh was throbbing. I shifted my weight to the right and grabbed another fry.

I was reaching for the lemon tea when I spotted Tahni.

She was at the cheerleading table on the other side of the cafeteria, where she had ended up in her sophomore year when she and our friend group quietly drifted apart. That was the year she dated Chandler for six weeks, and the following year she started sitting with the cheerleaders. Those two events weren’t connected, but they both happened, and now here we were. She had her phone out but wasn’t looking at it; she was looking at me.

Next to her was a boy I didn’t recognize.

I was the first to look away, it was just instinct. When I glanced back, she was already on her feet.

She spoke to the boy and made her way across the cafeteria, her hand already linked through his arm, guiding him along. He followed her because he didn’t really have a choice, and I had just enough time to take in the basics before they got to me: clearly new, in that obvious way that stands out in a school this size. There was something about his relaxed demeanor that didn’t quite fit the social scene here yet. His sable hair was a bit longer than what most guys had. His cognac-brown eyes weren’t scanning the room casually; instead, he was surveying the cafeteria like someone trying to figure out the quickest route to the nearest exit.

“Hey,” Tahni greeted, using that special warmth she reserved for when she wanted something, which was different from her usual friendliness and easily recognizable to anyone who had known her for a while. “Everyone, this is Evan. He just moved here from California, and he’s my boyfriend.”

Evan, the boy, glanced at the table. Then at the arm Tahni had wrapped around his. Then back at the table again.

“I literally bumped into you in B wing this morning,” he stated. It was factual, in the same tone you’d use to read a receipt to a cashier. “You said we should sit together at lunch.”

Tahni’s smile remained unchanged. “Same thing.”

“It’s…” he began, but then seemed to think better of finishing that thought. Instead, he focused on the table, his expression doing a lot of heavy lifting, particularly the kind of work that comes from someone reconsidering every choice that had brought them to this moment.

Emory leaned in, looking like a man receiving a present.

“So,” Emory said. “California.”

“California,” Evan replied, clearly relieved to have something concrete to hold onto.

“And you two,” Emory said with a friendly tone, pointing at them, “met this morning.”

“B wing,” Evan replied. “She dropped her binder, and I picked it up.

“And now you’re her boyfriend.”

There was a pause. Evan glanced at Tahni’s hand resting on his arm, then back at Emory. “Apparently.”

Maekynzie rested her forehead on her arms. Noelle covered her mouth with both hands, shaking with laughter. Tinsley made a sound I had never heard from her before, short and involuntary, like it slipped out before she could hold it back. Even Chandler, next to me, let out a laugh he was trying to suppress, his shoulder nudging mine for just a moment.

Tahni’s smile stayed right where it was, which was pretty impressive. I had to admit that.

Evan’s gaze wandered around the table, not unfriendly, more like someone trying to find their way in a new environment. It landed on me for a brief moment, maybe because I wasn’t laughing as hard, and I picked up a sweet potato fry, focusing on my tray.

My thigh throbbed. I shifted my weight.

Three cheerleaders entered the cafeteria, and Tahni’s attention snapped to them like a compass needle pointing north. She tightened her grip on Evan’s arm.

“Come on,” she urged. “I want to introduce you.”

He followed her because the other option was to cause a scene, but as Tahni led him away, he glanced back at our table, his eyes still scanning, and then they met mine for just a moment as he mouthed two words.

Help me.

Noelle made a soft sound. Maekynzie raised her head. Emory was already preparing what was clearly going to be a very detailed opinion on the whole situation.

Chandler picked up his water bottle, took a sip, and set it back down. I looked at him. His face wore its usual calm expression, but there was something careful about it, a particular stillness he had when he was focused on something and didn’t want you to notice.”

“Well,” Emory said, waving his arms in the direction where Tahni and Evan had gone. “That was quite a lot.”

“He’s cute,” Maekynzie remarked, speaking as if it were a fact rather than an opinion.

“He’s something,” Noelle replied.

I picked up my lemon tea and took a sip. It was cold now. I didn’t say anything because I had nothing to contribute that I felt comfortable sharing. The truth was, Maekynzie was right. And Noelle was right too. He was cute in a way that didn’t really matter, the kind of looks that were just part of who he was and didn’t reveal much on their own. What was really intriguing was the B wing story. The way he had presented it, like he was just correcting a simple mistake, no drama, no harshness, just stating what actually happened. That showed either a lot of confidence or a lack of awareness, and judging by how he had looked at Emory right after, reassessing and almost amused, I didn’t think it was a lack of awareness.

My thigh throbbed. I set the tea down.

Chandler reached over, grabbed one of my sweet potato fries, and ate it. I turned to face him.

“Those are mine.”

“You weren’t eating them.”

“I was about to.”

“Were you?” He picked up another fry, his expression completely neutral. “Tell me more about that.”

I snatched the fry from his hand before he could eat it. He let me, which was a comment in itself. Around us, the table had turned into a mix of conversations, the Evan situation, the drive-in plans, and something Emory was trying to get to that kept getting interrupted. I ate the fry and let the chatter fill the silence where my thoughts would have been.

Across the cafeteria, Tahni had reached the cheerleaders and was already in the middle of introducing herself, her hand still on Evan’s arm, the other hand animatedly gesturing. He was smiling, relaxed and engaging, the smile of someone who knew how to navigate a social setting and had done it many times before. He was fine. He was going to be fine.”

The noise at the table increased. Emory finally finished whatever he was working on, and everyone reacted all at once.

I glanced up without intending to.

Evan was still doing that thing with his eyes, scanning the room like he had been since he got here, assessing, searching for something that could lead him out. His gaze swept over our table and met mine for just a moment, the same look, just like all the others.

I grabbed a sweet potato fry. I looked away first.

Probably nothing. I categorized it as probably nothing, where I had been placing most things lately, and ate the fry, convincing myself that the thigh wasn’t that bad.