Chapter Five — The Mirror Habit

Micah had always dated casually.

He wasn’t the type to chase — not loudly, anyway. But somehow, every few months, there was someone new on his arm: a girl from his psychology class, another from the gym, once even a friend of Ellis’s.

At first, people teased him about it. Micah the mystery guy, they called him — quiet, polite, intense in a way that drew people in. But over time, his dating life started following a pattern everyone noticed but no one talked about.

Every relationship ended the same. Quickly.

And somehow, Amelia was always somewhere in the middle of it.

It began small.

Amelia would show up to class with her favorite iced coffee from the café down the street — a exotic lavender cold brew she swore helped her write faster.

Micah noticed. He noticed everything.

The next week, his girlfriend at the time, Lexie, showed up with the same drink. She laughed, waving it in front of him.

“You were right, this is actually pretty good.”

Micah smiled faintly. “Told you.”

“What made you try it?” she asked.

He didn’t mean to hesitate. “Amelia gets it all the time. Said it helps her focus.”

Lexie’s smile froze. “Amelia?”

“She’s in my lit group,” he added quickly. “She was talking about it one day. I figured I’d try it.”

Lexie took a slow sip, watching him over the rim of her cup. “You talk about her a lot, you know that?”

He shrugged, pretending not to notice the edge in her voice. “She just says interesting stuff sometimes.”

But the next time Amelia walked into the café, she could feel Lexie’s glare before she even looked up.

It happened again a few months later.

Micah had started seeing Hailey — a girl who loved yoga, crystals, and quoting poetry she didn’t understand. She was fun, uncomplicated, until the night she came over to hang out with the group.

Amelia was sitting on the floor, legs crossed, laughing with Ellis about some book they’d just finished — One Day in December by Josie Silver.

Micah had read it, too. He’d seen it in Amelia’s hands a few weeks back and picked up a copy himself, staying up until dawn to finish. He’d told himself it was just curiosity — wanting to know what she liked. But the truth was, he wanted to understand her world.

When Hailey caught him watching Amelia laugh, her face softened first, then tensed.

Later, when they were alone, she said quietly, “You look at her like she’s art.”

He froze. “What?”

“Amelia,” she said. “You look at her like she’s the only thing in color.”

He shook his head, defensive. “You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” Her voice cracked. “You recommended that book to me because she was reading it, didn’t you?”

He exhaled sharply. “It’s just a good book.”

But she didn’t buy it. None of them ever did.

By the time winter rolled in, Amelia had fully found her flow on campus. She had her close circle — Ellis, Colton, and a few others who felt like home — and her life finally felt steady. Micah was part of that circle too, but he had his own orbit: friends, teammates, girls who liked his quiet confidence.

He was the type of boy who never had to chase attention. It just found him.

But lately, when that attention landed, it didn’t seem to stick.

Micah’s girlfriend at the time, Lydia, noticed it first.

They were sitting at a café downtown one afternoon, sharing a table cluttered with coffee cups and notebooks. Lydia was talking about an outfit she wanted to wear to the spring dance, but Micah wasn’t really listening. His eyes drifted toward the next table — where Amelia sat with Colton, laughing about something that probably wasn’t even funny.

When Amelia brushed her hair back and smiled, Micah smiled too — a split second too late.

“What’s so funny?” Lydia asked, her voice sharper than she meant it to be.

Micah blinked, realizing he’d been caught. “What? Nothing. Sorry. You were saying?”

She followed his gaze, her jaw tightening. “You were looking at her again.”

Micah frowned. “At who?”

Lydia raised a brow. “You know who.”

He exhaled, half amused, half uncomfortable. “You’re imagining things.”

But Lydia wasn’t imagining it. Neither were the girls after her.

By the end of sophomore year, it had become a pattern — one that made the other girls feel like they were constantly competing with someone who wasn’t even in the race.

When Amelia started drinking black coffee before school, Micah suggested it to whoever he was dating.

When she posted a book recommendation, his girlfriend would mysteriously find the same title in his bag.

When Amelia joined a local volunteer event, Micah “happened” to bring it up, encouraging his girlfriend to sign up too.

It was never malicious. It wasn’t even something he noticed himself doing. But to everyone else — especially Amelia — it started to feel strange.

One afternoon, a few of them were hanging out in the courtyard — Amelia, Colton, Eli, Micah, and two girls from the soccer team. The air was light, full of laughter and inside jokes, until Micah said something that made the whole group pause.

Amelia had been telling a story about volunteering at the animal shelter, her eyes glowing as she described a dog named Benny who kept escaping from his cage to follow her around.

Micah, smiling softly, said, “That’s because he can tell when someone’s got a good heart.”

It was harmless. Sweet, even. But his girlfriend, Kayla, sitting right beside him, went still. The others looked between them — Ellis awkwardly scratching his head, Colton pretending not to notice.

Amelia gave a polite laugh, brushing it off. “You’re too nice, Micah.”

Kayla leaned back, crossing her arms. “You never say things like that to me.”

The moment grew heavy.

Micah cleared his throat, suddenly cold. “Come on, Kayla. It was just a comment.”

But the damage was done — the tension thick enough to silence the group.

Amelia looked down at her hands, cheeks warm with embarrassment. She didn’t want to be in the middle of whatever that was. She didn’t want anyone thinking there was something between them.

Every relationship he had ended the same — quiet arguments, confused looks, and eventual goodbyes.

He’d insist nothing was going on, that he didn’t even like her like that. And in truth, maybe he didn’t. Not yet.

But admiration has a way of turning into something else when it’s fed over time.

Amelia noticed the way girls would glare at her when she walked by. The way whispers followed when she and Micah were in the same room. The way people assumed she must be leading him on — even though she hadn’t done a thing.

It made her uncomfortable. Guilty, even. She started sitting farther away from him at lunch, keeping conversations short, polite.

But even distance didn’t stop it.

Micah still noticed her — every word, every gesture, every small shift in mood.

And every time he looked at her, even when she wasn’t looking back, something in his chest tightened with the quiet ache of wanting something he shouldn’t want.

By spring, the pattern was a running joke.

If Amelia started a new hobby, Micah would suddenly talk about it.

If she changed her hair, he’d notice before anyone else.

If she mentioned a new artist or author, his next girlfriend would post about it on her story within a week.

It stopped being subtle.

And for Amelia, it stopped being flattering.

One afternoon in the campus library, she sat across from Ellis, trying to study. Micah and his latest girlfriend, Tori, were sitting a few tables away.

Tori looked miserable.

“Just forget it,” Amelia whispered. “Ignore it.”

Ellis leaned closer. “Forget what?”

“Micah.”

Ellis followed her gaze. Micah had just suggested to Tori that she try journaling — like Amelia does.

Amelia pressed her pen harder against the paper. “He doesn’t even realize how weird it’s getting.”

Ellis arched an eyebrow. “Weird how?”

Amelia kept her voice low. “He tells every girl to do things I do. To drink what I drink. To read what I read. It’s like I’m some… checklist.”

“You sure you’re not overthinking it?”

“I wish I was.”

Just then, Micah glanced up — as if he somehow felt her eyes on him. Their gazes met for half a second before he looked away.

Amelia’s pulse spiked, irritation mixing with something else — something she didn’t want to name.

A few days later, she was walking out of her afternoon class when Micah caught up with her.

“Hey,” he said, falling into step beside her.

“Hey.”

“You okay? You’ve been quiet lately.”

“I’ve been busy,” she said simply.

He nodded, unconvinced. “I just wanted to say — I liked what you said in seminar today. About how good writing should make people uncomfortable.”

“Thanks.”

There was an awkward pause.

He scratched the back of his neck. “Tori and I, uh… broke up.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said softly, though she wasn’t surprised.

“Yeah.” He hesitated. “She said I talk about you too much.”

Amelia stopped walking.

“Micah…”

He laughed a little, nervous. “She’s not wrong, I guess. I just — you’re inspiring, you know? You make people want to do better.”

“That’s not fair,” Amelia said, her tone sharp enough to make him blink.

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You can’t pull people into that — into me. They start hating me for it.”

He looked hurt, confused. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” she interrupted. “You never do. But it keeps happening.”

There was silence — a heavy, awkward silence.

Micah finally nodded, his voice quieter now. “You’re right. I’ll stop.”

But the truth was, he didn’t. Not really. He couldn’t.

Admiration was easy to hide when it came dressed as casual conversation.

That night, Amelia lay in bed scrolling through her phone, trying to read, trying to forget. But she couldn’t shake the thought of him — how he looked when he said she was “inspiring,” like it was something he couldn’t help but believe.

For the first time, she wasn’t sure if being admired was a gift or a curse.

And for the first time, she wished Micah would stop seeing her as something to aspire to — and start seeing her as a person who he considers as a friend instead of someone he could be secretly admiring.

Micah walked home that evening with Amelia’s words still echoing in his head.

You can’t pull people into that — into me.

He’d never heard her voice like that before — sharp, distant, disappointed. It hit him harder than he wanted to admit.

He wasn’t trying to make her uncomfortable. He wasn’t even sure what he was trying to do anymore.

Admiring her had started as something pure. Back in high school, it was easy — she was just that girl everyone liked, the new girl who made art feel like language and language feel like air. Watching her win that award, seeing her smile through the celebration dinner, he’d felt… proud. Not jealous. Not possessive. Just proud.

But something had changed.

Now, admiration came with a pulse.

When he thought of her, it wasn’t the way you think of a friend or classmate — it was heavier, hungrier. He’d find himself looking for her in crowds, half-listening in conversations just to catch the sound of her laugh. Every book she read felt like a secret she was sharing with him, even when she never said a word.

And every time he tried to stop, to redirect, his body didn’t listen.

He’d date someone else. He’d try to fill the space with noise, attention, kisses that meant nothing. But the moment Amelia’s name came up, something in him lit up again — and the girls could feel it. They always could.

He wasn’t sure what scared him more: the idea of losing control, or the idea that she might finally see through him.

Later that night, he sat on the couch in the shared dorm lounge, pretending to read, when Colton came in.

Colton looked like he hadn’t slept much — his hair was a mess, hoodie half-zipped, eyes looking toward Micah in a way that made him tense up instantly.

“You and Amelia talk today?” Colton asked casually, dropping onto the couch across from him.

Micah’s chest tightened. “Yeah. Why?”

Colton shrugged. “She seemed… off when I saw her after class. Said she was tired, but it felt like something else.”

Micah turned a page in his book he hadn’t read. “Maybe it’s midterms.”

Colton’s smile was faint, almost polite. “Maybe.”

The silence that followed wasn’t comfortable.

Micah could feel Colton watching him, searching for something — maybe an expression, maybe an answer.

“You ever notice,” Colton said finally, “how she gets quiet when you’re around? Not in a bad way — just… different.”

Micah forced a small laugh. “You’re imagining things.”

Colton nodded slowly. “Maybe I am. But if you guys had a fight or something bro, maybe I can help you guys kiss and make up” Colton laughing.

He stood, stretching. “Anyway, I’m heading to her place later. Thought I’d check in first.”

Micah’s throat felt dry. “Yeah. Cool.”

When Colton left, the door clicked shut behind him, and Micah exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for hours.

He stared down at the open page of his book — a quote underlined from earlier that day:

“The things we love destroy us, if we’re not careful.”

He closed it, jaw tightening.

He told himself he wasn’t one of those men.

He told himself it wasn’t obsession — just admiration, curiosity, care.

He told himself that what he felt for Amelia was something good.

But in the quiet, the lies didn’t sound convincing anymore.

He wanted her.

He wanted her attention, her words, her warmth — even when it meant stealing it from where it belonged.

Meanwhile, across campus, Colton headed to Amelia — listening to her talk about her day, smiling, nodding. But half of his mind was somewhere else, replaying the strange look in Micah’s eyes earlier.

There was something there. Something he couldn’t name.

And for the first time, he started to wonder if the thing that was threatening to pull Amelia away from him wasn’t some distance between them… but someone who’d been standing beside them all along.