Bias Romance Short Stories & Campus Novels

On graduation day, my childhood friend, Liam Carter, handed me a college application. "Apply to Williams College with me, and I'll be your boyfriend." Williams College was tucked away in the mountains, far from home. If I went there, I would rarely get the chance to visit my family. But I took the application without a second thought and signed my name. The day I received my acceptance letter, I happened to see the messages on Liam's phone. They were from my parents, my brother, and Liam. [Has Audrey agreed to go to Williams College?] [Of course! She got her acceptance letter today!] [Now that we've sent her far away, Vera can finally stay with us in peace.] [Liam, you must have had a hard time keeping up the act. At least you won't actually have to go live in the mountains with her.] I stood there and read the messages from the people closest to me over and over again. They had no idea that when I signed that day, I had not only signed the application to Williams College. I had also signed a confidentiality agreement for a research program. In just three days, I would leave for the research institute. I would cut off all contact with the outside world and leave them behind for good. When I finally left, they all regretted it.

Thor and I grew up together—we were the definition of childhood sweethearts. We'd promised to attend the same university, graduate, and marry right after senior year. Everyone envied us. They said we were a perfect match, destined for a lifetime together. And I believed that too. I truly thought I'd spend the rest of my life with him. Until the final semester of our senior year in high school, when a new transfer student named Lina joined our class. At first, the two barely spoke. But as they grew familiar, their bond deepened in ways I could no longer ignore. He started staying after school to tutor her, bringing her breakfast every morning. When she was upset, he'd take her for a drive along the coast. If she craved Italian steak, he'd have fresh cuts flown in. Even during her period, he'd quietly prepare everything she needed. I was furious. I confronted him, argued with him, and even threatened to break up. The first time I said it, he thought I was joking and coaxed me out of my anger. The second time, he dismissed it as another tantrum and tried different ways to please me. The third time, he broke down—standing outside my house in the pouring rain all night, half kneeling before me, begging for forgiveness. Again and again, I tried to leave, and every time, he refused to let me go. Yet with each reconciliation, something in him shifted. He started taking me for granted, assuming I would always come back. His patience wore thin. His apologies turned perfunctory. Even when he came to make peace, there was no sincerity left in his voice. So I said it for the hundredth time, and that was the last. That was the moment I finally gave up on him.

On the day I receive my acceptance letter from my dream university, Jaxson Ludlam rents out an entire bar to celebrate with me. During a tipsy round of honest confessions, someone asks him what's the most outrageous thing he has ever done in high school. Leaning back on the couch, Jaxson looks toward Ingrid Rice, who has been sitting silently in the corner all this while. With a soft chuckle, he says, "Well, I guess it's probably taking the blame for someone and getting a detention right before the SAT." The entire room gasps in shock. Even I am stunned. A month before the SAT, Ingrid is caught using the school's computer lab without permission and very nearly got expelled. Jaxson steps forward and claims that he forces her to unlock the lab, taking all the blame himself. I always believe he did it simply because of his sense of responsibility as the class president. Under everyone's curious gaze, Ingrid blushes, and tears brim in her eyes. Jaxson gets up and walks over to shield her from everyone's attention before turning back to me with a reassuring smile. "Mira." Lowering his voice so only I can hear, he gently coaxes me. "If this goes into Ingrid's record, it'll ruin the rest of her life. You're always so understanding. Let's just treat it as doing a good deed for a friend, okay?" Looking at the way he takes it all for granted, I suddenly find the noise in the bar unbearably nauseating. I stand up and slip my acceptance letter back into my bag. "I understand." Meeting his startled eyes, I say, one word at a time, "Let's break up."

When our teacher caught my desk mate, Avery Collins, and me stealing mock exam papers just before the college entrance exam, he shouted, "The college entrance exam is right around the corner! What was the point of stealing the mock exam papers? Tell me, who was the mastermind?" In my previous life, I took the blame without hesitation. My father nearly beat me to death for it. Avery and I attended the same university, got married after graduation, and raised a daughter, spending thirty years together. I believed I had the perfect life. Then, on the day of my daughter, Emma's wedding, I was thrown out of the venue. Emma told me, "You have no right to be here. Caleb Morgan is my real father." Avery looked at me coldly. "After you got drunk, you already signed the divorce papers. The company, the house, and all the assets belong to me now. You're leaving with nothing. From this day forward, we're strangers." Lost in a daze, I wandered into the street and was crushed beneath a speeding truck. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day everything began. This time, I told the teacher directly, "Avery was the one behind it. I gave her the papers, but I never looked at them. My score belongs to me."

I'm the heiress of the Claremont family. Damon Johnson and I had a deal—we'd go to Oakwood High together. But the second my acceptance letter arrived, he and the rest of the guys in our class knocked me out cold. Why? Because Sophia Miller, the school's little princess, said she'd never seen a real mummy before. When I came to, I was wrapped head-to-toe in bandages, strung up at the front gate of the school. Students passed by—laughing, filming, some even spitting in my direction. I hung there for two full hours, on display for everyone. Finally, Damon showed up. Grinning, he untied the rope. "Sophia said she wanted to see a live mummy. It was just a joke. You're not actually mad, are you? We've known each other our whole lives. You get me." I just stared at him. At the group of guys still snickering behind him. At Sophia in the corner, covering her mouth with her hand. So this is what my dignity was worth to them. A punchline. I tore up my Oakwood acceptance letter and took the plane ticket the International Academy had sent me—three days to leave. The moment I stepped onto that plane, Damon lost it. "You're the one who always understands me—so why are you leaving?"

After my half sister, Serena Hawke, transferred to Ashmere University, she bet me she could steal Damian Cross from me within a month. I dismissed her. From that day on, Damian became a permanent second-place finisher. The first time Serena beat him, he frowned and said, "One point. I only lost by one point." After that, he calculated their scores every day. Over meals, he muttered, "How did she solve it?" Before bed, he stared at the rankings and said, "I'll beat her next time." He praised her clear reasoning, quick reactions, and even her handwriting. In the laboratory, he chose the seat beside her and responded only to her during group discussions. When I asked him to see a movie with me, he waved me off. "Serena sent me a new problem. I need to work it out." His phone was full of screenshots of her notes. Her class schedule hung beside his bed. Even in his sleep, he murmured about surpassing her. I watched the attention that had once belonged entirely to me shift toward my sister, inch by inch. Then my birthday came. Damian never showed up. I called thirty-seven times. He rejected every call. When he finally answered, he lowered his voice. "Rena asked me to watch the game with her. Wait a little longer." He hung up, and Serena immediately sent me her location: the third-floor lounge at the arena. When I opened the door, her arms were wrapped around his neck. The thread I had held taut inside my chest for half a year finally snapped. All that remained was a deep, aching exhaustion that seeped into my bones. Damian reached toward me in panic. "Rowan..." I stepped back. Anyone who could be taken from me was no longer someone I wanted.

The peach I’d given my childhood friend was rotting in the corner of his desk again. Juice had soaked through the little note I’d written, and the sickly sweet smell had everyone nearby complaining. One of my classmates covered his nose. “Mia Ander, is that your trash again? It stinks.” My face burned as I hurried over and picked up the peach. “It’s not trash! “It only went bad because no one bothered to take care of it.” Just then, Julian Waterson walked into the classroom. He paused for a moment. Then, without saying a word, he picked up the strawberry milk the prettiest girl in class had given him, pushed the straw through the lid, and took a sip. The next day, I brought another peach. But this time, I didn’t leave it on the corner of Julian’s desk. His longtime rival leaned across his desk and held out a hand with a grin. “If he doesn’t want it, give it to me.” “No.” “Why not?” I looked down and took a bite from the sweetest part of the peach. “Because from now on, I’m keeping the best for myself.”

When we are taking our graduation class photo, I cautiously hook my finger around my boyfriend Nathaniel Carter's. He immediately shoves me aside. "You should stand in the back row. The spot in the middle is for the prettiest girls. That's what makes the picture look good. You'll look out of place there. Let Liv take your spot." My face goes pale. Before I can say anything, my best friend, Olivia Morgan, smiles and tries to reassure me. "Eve, Nathaniel's just looking out for you. You're shy, and you'd probably feel uncomfortable standing in the middle anyway. The back row suits you better." Everyone else has already taken their places, and the photographer is beginning to grow impatient. Not wanting to hold everyone up, I quietly move to the corner without saying a word. I've gotten so used to giving in that even my hurt has learned to stay silent. Later, our class representative sends the graduation photo to the group chat. In the picture, the tall guy standing in front of me blocks nearly the entire lower half of my face. Olivia, meanwhile, is standing exactly where I was, her fingers intertwined with Nathaniel's. He tilts his head toward her, his expression soft as he looks at her with complete attention. His gaze has never lingered on me for more than three seconds. We've been secretly dating for three years, and Nathaniel is always the one insisting that we keep our distance in public. "If I'm always looking at you, others will figure it out. Besides, what's so interesting about looking at you?" I've always swallowed the hurt those words leave behind, convincing myself he's right. I buy us a pair of matching rings, hoping we can finally make our relationship public. Nathaniel tosses his ring back into the drawer and tells me, "You're shy. If we go public and people start talking about you, you won't be able to handle it. I'm only keeping us a secret to protect you." But the next day, I see that same ring on Olivia's finger. Not far away, the two of them stand shoulder to shoulder, posing for picture after picture as if they have nothing to hide. Their matching rings catch the sunlight, flashing brightly enough to make my eyes sting. Fine. We don't have to go public. We never will.

The night before our graduation, I find out that my girlfriend of four years, Naomi Walker, has been financially supporting a low-income student named Luca Brown. Every month, the money she saves from her living expenses goes straight to Luca. I confront her with my phone in hand. She falls silent before finally admitting, "Yes, I feel sorry for him. So what?" Four years together, and it all means less to her than her sympathy for him. I'm not ready to let things end like that. I push aside my sadness and stand beside her for our graduation photo. Then her roommate, Ava Jackson, comes rushing over. "Naomi! Luca heard you're getting engaged to Caspian after graduating, and he took a whole bottle of sleeping pills in the dorm!"

My boyfriend proposed to me when we graduated from high school, but I made a deal with him instead of giving him an immediate answer. "We'll get married when we've collected 500 train tickets." In the first year, Marcus could hardly wait to come see me every day. Before long, our collection had grown to 280 tickets. He even laughed and said that he'd be able to take me home as his wife before graduation at the rate he was going. In the second year, we met each other halfway. Soon, the number of tickets climbed to 400. But in our third year, Marcus told me that his advisor had taken on a new project and that a junior who had just joined the research team needed him to show her the ropes. He became swamped, so I ended up visiting him most of the time. Meanwhile, he only came to see me occasionally. By the end of the year, we had barely managed to collect 460 tickets. In our fourth year, he said he was too busy with internship interviews, leaving me no choice but to pull several all-nighters to finish my assignments so that I could spend a weekend going to see him. We finally collected 499 train tickets just before graduation. I secretly put on a white wedding dress, slipped on the ring he'd given me when he proposed, and boarded a train. I wanted to surprise Marcus. I wanted to tell him that we had finally reached 500 tickets. I wanted to tell him that I was ready to marry him. But when I arrived at the foot of his dormitory building, my heart full of anticipation… I saw Marcus holding another girl tightly, surrounded by a large heart of flickering candles. He lowered his head and kissed her on the lips amid the cheers and teasing from the crowd.

During my junior year, the university opened five spots for an overseas exchange program, and my childhood friends invited me to go with them. When I refused, Sean Copley, the childhood friend I had secretly loved for years, kissed me outside my dorm. “Once the program’s over, we’ll make it official.” For him, I gave up my chance to attend graduate school and signed the exchange agreement. On the day before we were set to leave, I happily wheeled my suitcase over to meet them, only to overhear their conversation. “If we’re all staying behind, how’s she going to manage on her own abroad?” “But if she stays, how will Katelyn get into our research group?” “She’s always been a loner. We’re all she has, so she’ll come back eventually.” My hands trembled as I pushed the door open. Everyone else looked flustered, but Sean merely frowned and said, “We can’t leave Katelyn here alone just for your sake. Yeah, just head over first. We’ll join you in six months at the latest.” The others quickly chimed in with reassurances. “When have we ever really abandoned you?” I watched them close ranks around Katelyn Schiff, then slowly nodded and left. Unbeknownst to them, I had applied for a joint research training program with the National Deep-Sea Research Institute. I would spend the next eight years at an overseas base and aboard research vessels. Since they had tricked me into leaving alone, I would go even farther on my own.

Growing up, I always had four boys around me. They were the most popular guys in school. Friday night football games, weekend pool parties, even who got to sit at their lunch table—people cared about all of it. But the spot next to them was always saved for me. My locker was stocked with snacks they'd shoved in there. My phone was full of goofy photos of them from games. After every party, someone would drape a varsity jacket over my shoulders and walk me home. So when college acceptances came out, they spread four Stanford letters in front of me and asked if I dared to give up Harvard and go to California with them. I barely hesitated. We even made a group chat called "Five on the West Coast." I shared dorm photos, orientation events, even made a road trip route map across the country. Until the night of the graduation party. Claude lent me his tablet to pick songs, and I saw a chat window he hadn't logged out of. [So all four of us are staying in Boston with Chloe, and only Vivian actually paid the Stanford deposit?] [She even made the road trip playlist. When are you guys going to tell her?] [After she gets to California. If we tell her now, she'll freak out.] [Vivian can make friends on her own. Chloe can't even go to the cafeteria by herself. She needs us more.] [Relax. Didn't Claude give Vivian a promise ring and say he'd propose after graduation? She won't break up over four years long-distance.] I looked down at the ring on my hand. Last week, Claude was wearing my graduation cap, kissing me on camera, saying what he looked forward to most was starting college together. Turned out I was the only one who believed it. They didn't know that a few days ago, I'd already accepted a summer research program in Switzerland recommended by my Stanford advisor. The flight was booked for three days from now. I deleted that five-person road trip route map. This time, I wasn't going to wait for them to come pick me up.

My boyfriend's assistant, who also came from the same university as him but a lower grade, has an incredibly similar name to mine. While mine is Marissa Parker, hers is Melissa Barker. At the party our colleagues are throwing to celebrate the end of my unmarried life with my boyfriend, Liam Yarrow, Melissa once again mixes up our names. Everyone is cheering and joking around as they unfurl the banner they had prepared, and one person reads the wording out loud. "Congratulations to Liam Yarrow and Melissa Barker! May you two be happy and blissful forever!" In an instant, the originally noisy room falls silent. Melissa's timid voice then rings out. "Sorry, Marissa. I accidentally made a mistake again." Instead of answering, I turn to look at Liam. Liam's brow doesn't even wrinkle in the slightest as he subconsciously assures her, "It's just a minor matter. She won't mind." Following that, he gets up, walks to Melissa, and stops in front of her, placing me opposite him. With this action, his figure completely blocks her from my sight, and like many times before, he shoots me a warning look. "Marissa, it's just a banner. Mel didn't mean to mess it up. At the end of the day, everyone already knows that you and I are the stars tonight, so don't dwell on this, okay?" He calls me by my full first name, while Melissa gets an affectionate nickname. Can his feelings be any more obvious? I slowly release my grip on the balloon I was holding. "Alright, I won't." I will never dwell on anything to do with him again.

Everyone at Oakridge High had noticed that Claire Walsh, the notoriously boy-crazy bimbo, was acting a little off lately. Before, she was all looks and no brains, spending every waking moment trailing after Floyd Sterling. But out of nowhere, she stopped showing up in front of Floyd and started burying her head in her textbooks instead. Everyone mocked her. "What's the point of you studying now? It's way too late for that." The entire school believed Claire was nothing more than a gorgeous airhead with nothing upstairs. What nobody realized was that it was all an act. For three whole years of high school, she had calculated her exam scores with surgical precision, keeping her grades hovering strictly along the bare passing line. Until the final exam arrived, she finally dropped the act. A month later, when scores were released, she sent shockwaves through the school by landing a perfect score and taking top rank in the entire state. Armed with her stellar results, she headed off to an elite university overseas. What she never expected was that the boy, who had once cold-heartedly warned her to stop clinging to him, would suddenly lose his mind, scouring the world just to track her down.

After two years of barely speaking to my husband, Nathan Holt, the last place I expect to see him is my cousin's dorm. It's freshman move-in day, and he's helping Camille Collett make her bed. Camille is my cousin's roommate. Her eyes crinkle at the corners whenever she smiles. She catches me looking at Nathan and immediately loops her arm through his. "Hi. This is my boyfriend. He was worried about me moving in by myself, so he took the day off to come with me." I think of the text Nathan sent me yesterday. "Business trip. Won't be home this week either." I smile and say nothing. Nathan turns around, and shock flashes across his face the moment he sees me. But he recovers almost instantly and holds out his hand. "Hi, I'm Nathan Holt. I'm not her boyfriend. We're just friends." He's convincing. Anyone watching would think we'd never met before. So I play along and shake his hand. "I'm Natalie Kenney, Esther Sullivan's cousin." Camille gives Nathan an annoyed look. Then she notices the wedding ring on my finger and relaxes a little. "Natalie, you're so pretty. You're already married? But you're so young. What a shame." I look down at my ring. I haven't taken it off once in three years. Then I glance at Nathan's ring finger. It's bare. Suddenly, I can't stand the ring on my finger anymore. I slip it off. "It's not a shame. I'm getting divorced."

Graduation season has arrived, and my girlfriend's childhood best friend, Daniel Whitmore, now a social media influencer, posts a video titled "The Friendship We Shared." It goes viral overnight. Everyone envies the four of them for staying close for ten years. Before long, people are even shipping Daniel and my girlfriend, Evelyn Hayes, swooning over their childhood-sweethearts story. What no one knows is that I film every second of that video. I even write the narration myself. The video is 20 minutes long, yet there isn't a single shot of me. Not even a mention of my name. I ask Evelyn why, but she barely seems to care. "You didn't join us until college. You can't really say you were part of our friendship." Later, I find a folder on Daniel's computer. Every clip featuring me has been removed and placed in that folder. It's named "An Outsider's Mistake". Then I see what Evelyn had written in their private group chat. "Make sure you delete everything. I don't want anything ruining the feeling that it's always been the four of us." I don't confront them about it. I simply revoke their permission to use any of the footage I've provided. If there's no place for me in their friendship, then they can stop using my camera to remember it.

Retired teacher Ryder Jensen appears on a talk show. His former students are spread across every field, with many becoming CEOs and renowned scientists. But when asked who left the deepest impression, his smile turns bitter. "The one who completely ruined his life. He was the top student in his grade, yet he dated the class' bottom-ranked delinquent. To save his future, I intercepted his love letter, rewrote it as a scathing roast, and read it out loud at a parent-teacher meeting. That broke them up. "But things didn't go as planned. He failed his exams, while that delinquent made it into a top-tier college and became a financial tycoon. Life has a cruel sense of humor." Saddened by the story, the host asks if Ryder has any words for that student. Ryder lets out a long breath, tears welling in his eyes. "He wouldn't hear me anyway. He was diagnosed with leukemia and couldn't afford the treatment. He passed away three years ago." The interview segment is clipped and posted online, instantly blowing up on social media. Meanwhile, Eliza Woods, the woman at the heart of the story, has no idea. She just wrapped up an international finance conference and is rushing to buy a top-tier graphics card for her fiance, Theo Holland.

Growing up, I had four boys by my side. They were the Big Men on Campus—the four most untouchable guys at school—and my most loyal protectors. On the night of our eighteenth birthday graduation ceremony, they all applied to Stanford University in California at the same time and asked if I dared to give up Harvard and go with them. My answer, of course, was yes. After I received my Stanford acceptance letter, I accidentally saw their chat records. [Are you guys really going to stay in Boston for Chloe and trick Vivian into going to California alone? Aren't you afraid she'll get angry and leave you when she finds out the truth?] [She can't leave us. Even if she gets angry, we just have to coax her a little.] [She's been strong and independent since she was little. She can handle everything on her own in California.] [Chloe is different. She's insecure and sensitive, has no family, and needs our company and encouragement more.] [Besides, Claude promised to get engaged to Vivian and marry her after graduation. It's only four years apart. She can definitely wait.] They were certain I would never leave them. But they didn't know—I had accepted Stanford's overseas research project invitation and was about to leave for Switzerland. In three days, I would cut off all contact with them and leave this place forever.

We can't settle on our holiday plans, so my girlfriend, Janine Simpson, starts a group chat with the three of us. "Let's roll the dice. Whoever gets the highest number decides. That's the fairest way." My friend, Mitchell Stone, rolls a six and wants to go to Marisport. I roll a one. I wanted to go to Rosemont. Rosemont isn't a random pick. It's the place my late mother had always wanted to visit but never got the chance to. This year marks five years since she passed away, and I've promised her I would see Lake Azure for her. Janine knew that, too. Three months ago, she held my hand and promised she would go with me this year. "Fair's fair. You lost the bet." She sends a little pat-on-the-head sticker in the group chat. This is the 27th time this year that I've rolled a one. The week before, I'd lost when we were choosing a restaurant for our team dinner. The week before that, it was a movie. Then yesterday, I used Janine's tablet to look up travel guides and accidentally came across her synced text messages. Her chat with a friend sat right at the top. "I sent you the dice plugin. It can roll whatever number you want." "Thanks. Cameron can get quite stubborn. This is the only way to get him to agree to things." I stared at those messages for a long time and placed the tablet back where I found it. She has known all along what Rosemont meant to me, and it turns out I haven't been losing because of sheer bad luck. I've been losing because she has already taken someone else's side. I leave the group chat and book a direct flight to Rosemont. On the first day of the holiday at 7:00 am, I will board the plane alone.

Sophie Jordan and her boyfriend, Carter Jennings, had been in a long-distance relationship for four years while studying at different universities. During the semester break, Sophie took an eight-hour train ride to North Capital University to see Carter, but he was not around. The resident advisor looked her up and down with a smile. "Are you here for Carter Jennings? He isn't here for the semester break. He won't be back for a few days." Sophie's grip on her luggage tightened. "Is there some kind of mistake? He just told me that he's in his dorm." Sophie had texted Carter just minutes ago, and he told her he was tired and wanted to take a nap in his dormitory. "I have no reason to lie. Look, he wrote a note about it." The resident advisor showed her the note. "He left for Southern University to see his girlfriend. He always visits her during the holidays, rain or shine. "Carter Jennings loves his girlfriend a lot. Every guy in his dorm knows that! Look, his roommates are right there." His roommates were speaking about him. "Too bad Carter isn't around this long holiday. If he were here, we could’ve formed a team for that big competition!" "All he thinks about is his girlfriend. He's always with her during the holidays." "It takes five hours to travel to Southern University from here, but he doesn't find it tiring at all. When I asked him why his girlfriend doesn't come here to visit him instead, he said he didn't want to exhaust her with all the travelling. Dang, he must really love her!" The boys laughed as they walked past Sophie, and she heard everything they said. Her grip tightened gradually on her luggage as her excitement turned to fear. Southern University? She was not studying there. Who had her boyfriend been meeting without fail every semester break?