CHAPTER 5 ~ KYLE'S POV

The Student Union was vibrating. The bass from the speakers was so heavy I could feel it rattling the floorboards before I even opened the double doors. I paused outside, checked my reflection in the glass, adjusted my collar, and stepped inside.

Instant noise. The air was hot and smelled like cheap cologne and spilled beer.

"Kyle! Bennett! My man!"

The greeting came from my left before I’d taken three steps. I turned, flashing the smile. It was Mark from the debate team.

"Mark," I said, gripping his hand for a bro-hug. "How’s the prep going for nationals? You guys ready to crush State?"

"We’re getting there, man. Hey, good to see you out. Heard about... you know." He made a vague gesture with his beer cup that encompassed everything from my breakup to my general existence.

"Old news, Mark," I said, keeping my voice light. "I’m good. Never better."

I patted his shoulder and kept moving. That was the trick. Never stop moving. If you stopped, people asked questions. If you kept moving, you were just a busy, important guy making the rounds.

I worked the room like a politician. I high-fived the soccer guys. I complimented a girl from my Chem lab on her earrings. I grabbed a red plastic cup from the keg station, not because I wanted the warm, foamy beer, but because I needed something to do with my hands.

Every interaction was a calculation. Smile. Laugh. Ask a question. Exit.

Then I saw them.

They were holding court near the DJ booth. Vanessa was wearing a dress I had bought her for her birthday last year, which felt like a deliberate slap in the face. Travis was standing next to her, looking like he had just rolled out of bed in a way that was supposed to be artistic but just looked unhygienic. He was wearing a flannel shirt over a band tee, and his hair was in a messy bun.

I tried to pivot. I tried to head toward the exit on the far side of the room.

"Kyle!"

Vanessa’s voice cut through the noise like a laser. It wasn't a friendly shout; it was a summons. She was looking right at me, waving her hand.

If I walked away, I looked bitter. If I went over there, I looked desperate. There was no winning move, so I chose the one that made me look the least pathetic. I walked over.

"Hey, Van," I said, using the nickname out of habit. I corrected myself internally. "Vanessa. Hey."

"I didn't think you’d come," she said, looking me up and down. Her eyes lingered on my white t-shirt, checking for flaws. "You usually hate these mixers. You say the music is too loud for 'actual conversation.'"

"I wanted to support the team," I lied. I turned to Travis. "I don't think we’ve met. I’m Kyle."

I extended my hand. Travis looked at it for a second, then shifted his beer to his left hand and shook mine. His grip was limp.

"Travis," he said. He had a slow, drawling voice that sounded like he was constantly on the verge of a nap. "I’ve heard a lot about you, man. You’re the... uh... President, right?"

"Student Body President," I corrected automatically.

"Right. Cool. Cool. That sounds... intense." He smirked, wrapping an arm around Vanessa’s waist and pulling her closer. "Van was just telling me how you have everything on a schedule. Like, color-coded and everything. That’s wild, man. I don’t think I even own a calendar."

Vanessa laughed. It was a high, tinkling sound that grated on my nerves. "Travis is very 'go with the flow.' It’s so refreshing. We just decided to drive to the coast yesterday morning. No plan, no maps. Just us."

"That sounds dangerous," I said, taking a sip of my warm beer to hide my grimace.

"It was romantic," she corrected sharply. "You should try it sometime, Kyle. Loosen up. Maybe if you weren't so obsessed with your image, you’d actually have some fun."

The circle around us had gone quiet. People were pretending not to listen, but I could see them leaning in. This was the show. The Ex-Boyfriend Showdown.

"I have fun," I said, my smile tightening at the corners. "I have plenty of fun."

"Really?" Vanessa raised an eyebrow. "Because you’re standing here alone, drinking cheap beer, wearing the same outfit you wear to every party. You look... safe, Kyle. You always look so safe."

Heat crept up my neck. Safe. It was worse than being called ugly.

"I’m actually waiting for someone," I blurted out.

The lie fell out of my mouth before I could stop it.

Vanessa’s eyes widened slightly. "Oh? Who?"

"Just... a friend," I said, backpedaling. "They’re running late. Actually, I think I just got a text."

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and stared at the blank screen. "Yeah. They’re outside. I gotta go."

"Well, bring them in!" Vanessa challenged, crossing her arms. "I’d love to meet whoever finally got you to loosen up."

"Maybe later," I said. "Nice meeting you, Travis."

I turned and walked away. I didn't walk fast—that would look like running. I walked with purpose. I pushed through the crowd, ignoring the people calling my name. I shoved the door open and stepped out into the cool night air.

The silence outside was a shock to the system. I took a deep breath, trying to slow my heart rate.

I had lied. Again.

And now, I had a timer. If I didn't produce this "friend" soon, Vanessa was going to know I was lying. She would tell everyone that Kyle Bennett was so lonely he had to invent a date.

I crushed the plastic cup in my hand and tossed it into a trash can.

I couldn't go back to my dorm. Justin was there with his girlfriend, and I couldn't handle any more happy couples tonight. I needed somewhere quiet. Somewhere where nobody knew who I was, or at least, where nobody cared.

I looked across the quad. The library.

It was Sunday night. The library would be open late. It would be quiet. It would be empty.

I started walking across the grass. I needed to regroup. I needed to figure out how to salvage my reputation before Vanessa destroyed it completely.

I didn't know who I was looking for, or what I was going to do. I just knew that I was tired of playing the perfect ex-boyfriend. I was tired of losing.

I pushed open the heavy glass doors of the library and the smell of old paper and coffee hit me. It was the smell of focus.

I walked past the front desk, nodding to the librarian who didn't even look up, and headed toward the back stacks—the section for History and obscure Literature. The place where nobody went unless they really, really wanted to be left alone.

I turned the corner into the aisle, my mind still replaying Vanessa’s laugh, and that’s when I saw him.

He was sitting on the floor, surrounded by a fortress of books, wearing a hoodie that looked three sizes too big. He looked like he was trying to merge with the shelving unit.

I stopped.

I knew him. Not personally, but I knew of him. The quiet guy. The one who never spoke in class. The one people called "The Monk."

He looked up, startled by my footsteps. His eyes were wide, panicked, and framed by thick glasses.

For a second, we just stared at each other. The contrast was almost comical. Me, standing there in my tailored jeans and "perfect" t-shirt, vibrating with caffeine and rage. Him, huddled on the floor like a woodland creature trying to avoid a predator.

And suddenly, looking at him, a crazy, desperate, terrible idea sparked in my brain.

Vanessa wanted to see me with someone "different"? She wanted to see me with someone who wasn't "safe"?

Well, you couldn't get more different than this.