Chapter 3: A Little Experiment

By the time our afternoon class ended, the rain had finally stopped.

The campus looked brighter after the storm, but the pavement was still wet, reflecting the afternoon sunlight between the buildings. Students were slowly making their way home, some rushing toward the gates while others stayed behind to finish their projects.

I walked beside Sienna, listening to her complain about our professor's sudden assignment.

"I swear, Dahlia, if he gives us another essay next week, I'm dropping the subject."

"You say that every week."

"And one day, I will actually do it."

"You won't."

She looked at me.

"How do you know?"

"Because you cried for twenty minutes when you got a seventy-eight."

She gasped.

"That was different."

I laughed softly.

For a few minutes, everything felt normal.

Just another afternoon.

Just another day.

And then I saw him.

Max was standing near the university gate, talking to someone from our department. His sleeves were rolled up, his bag hanging from one shoulder, and his expression was relaxed.

He looked ordinary.

That was the strange part.

I had spent the entire day thinking about him, yet there was nothing particularly intimidating about him.

He was just a man.

A man who had become unexpectedly difficult to ignore.

As if he could feel me watching, Max turned.

Our eyes met.

He excused himself from the person he was talking to and walked toward us.

Sienna immediately looked at me.

I didn't need her to say anything.

I already knew.

"Hi," Max said.

"Hi."

His gaze shifted toward Sienna.

"You're Sienna, right?"

She blinked.

"You know my name?"

"You two are always together."

Sienna looked at me with wide eyes.

"See? He notices things."

I smiled.

"Apparently."

Max chuckled.

"I'm Max."

"I know," Sienna said. "Dahlia mentioned you."

I looked at her.

"I did?"

"You did."

"I don't remember."

"Because you're a liar."

Max laughed.

For some reason, I found myself watching his reaction.

He wasn't pretending.

At least, not obviously.

Most people laughed because they wanted to be liked.

Max laughed because something was actually funny.

It was a small distinction, but I noticed it.

"Are you heading home?" he asked me.

"Probably."

"Can I walk with you?"

Sienna looked at me again.

I could already hear the teasing waiting in her head.

"Sure."

We started walking.

Sienna stayed beside me for the first few minutes, but when she received a call from her mother, she slowed down.

"I'll catch up with you guys."

I nodded.

And suddenly, it was just me and Max.

The silence wasn't uncomfortable.

If anything, it was strange how easy it felt.

"You don't talk much," he said.

"Neither do you."

"I talk."

"When necessary."

He smiled.

"Fair."

We continued walking.

The streets outside the university were busy, but the farther we went, the quieter everything became.

I noticed a small convenience store across the street.

"I want water."

"I'll get it."

"I can buy my own."

"I know."

He crossed the street anyway.

I watched him enter the store.

For a moment, I wondered why he was being nice.

People didn't do things without a reason.

There was always something behind every action.

Attention.

Affection.

Guilt.

Fear.

Desire.

Everyone wanted something.

I just hadn't figured out what Max wanted yet.

He returned a minute later and handed me a bottle of water.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

I opened it.

"Why are you being nice to me?"

He looked at me.

"What?"

"You heard me."

He smiled.

"Do I need a reason?"

"Usually."

"Maybe I like talking to you."

"Why?"

"You're interesting."

I rolled my eyes.

"You've said that already."

"Because it's true."

I took another sip of water.

"You don't know me."

"Neither do you."

That made me look at him.

He continued walking as if he hadn't said anything important.

I stared at his profile.

Maybe he was right.

Maybe I didn't know him.

And maybe that was why I couldn't stop thinking about him.

I had always been good at reading people because I never allowed myself to get emotionally involved.

It was easier to observe someone when you weren't attached to the outcome.

But Max was slowly becoming an exception.

And I didn't like exceptions.

When we reached the intersection near my neighborhood, I stopped.

"This is me."

He nodded.

"Okay."

He didn't ask where I lived.

Didn't ask for my number.

Didn't ask if he could see me again.

He simply stood there.

"Good night, Dahlia."

"Good night."

He turned around.

I watched him walk away.

Then I called his name.

"Max."

He stopped.

He looked back.

I smiled.

"See you tomorrow."

His lips curved.

"Definitely."

He left.

I stood there for a few seconds before walking home.

I didn't know why I'd called him back.

I could have simply let him leave.

But something about the way he walked away bothered me.

He hadn't tried to impress me.

He hadn't tried to get closer.

He hadn't chased after me.

And somehow, that made me want him to.

Maybe that was the problem.

Maybe I was becoming curious about him too.

That night, I sat at my desk with the lights turned off.

The only light in the room came from my laptop screen.

I had opened Max's social media account.

Not because I liked him.

I simply wanted information.

There was a difference.

His profile was surprisingly boring.

A few pictures with friends.

University events.

Family photos.

Travel pictures.

Nothing suspicious.

Nothing particularly interesting.

I scrolled further.

Then I stopped.

One photo caught my attention.

Max was standing beside an older man.

His father, probably.

The caption was simple.

Some people leave too soon.

I stared at the photo.

Then at Max's face.

There was something in his expression that I hadn't seen before.

Pain.

Real pain.

I leaned back in my chair.

So he had a weakness.

Everyone did.

I just hadn't expected to find his so quickly.

I closed the laptop.

Tomorrow, I'd test something.

Nothing serious.

Just a little experiment.

I wanted to know how Max reacted when someone challenged him.

Would he get angry?

Would he walk away?

Would he become defensive?

Or would he stay calm?

I smiled to myself.

There was only one way to find out.

And if I was being completely honest...

I was already looking forward to it.

The next morning, I arrived on campus earlier than usual.

I sat alone near the fountain and waited.

Ten minutes passed.

Then twenty.

Finally, I saw Max walking through the main entrance.

He spotted me almost immediately.

His expression changed.

Just slightly.

He walked toward me.

"You're early."

"I could say the same about you."

He sat beside me.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing."

He looked at me.

"You don't usually wait for people."

"How do you know?"

"I've been paying attention."

I smiled.

"Good."

He frowned slightly.

"Why?"

I turned toward him.

"Because I wanted to ask you something."

"What?"

I held his gaze.

"How far would you go for someone you love?"

He went silent.

For the first time since I met him, I saw something change in his expression.

Not fear.

Not anger.

Something deeper.

Something personal.

And suddenly, I knew I'd touched the right nerve.

He looked away.

"I don't know."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one I have."

I smiled softly.

"Then maybe you haven't loved someone enough."

He looked at me again.

"And you?"

I didn't hesitate.

"I don't think I've ever loved anyone."

He studied my face.

"Why?"

I shrugged.

"Maybe I'm not capable of it."

He laughed quietly.

"I don't believe that."

"You should."

"Why?"

Because I wanted to say the truth.

Because I wanted to tell him that there were parts of me that were empty, places where guilt should have been, places where fear should have lived.

Instead, I smiled. "Because people usually believe the worst about themselves."

He didn't answer.

He just looked at me.

And for some reason, I had the strange feeling that Max Holland was beginning to understand that my words never meant only one thing.

That was dangerous, but it was also exciting.

My little experiment had only just begun

And already, I wanted to see how far I could push him.