Chapter 1: The Pillow Problem

The glow from my string lights barely lit the heap of laundry by my desk. I have this weird little quirk when I sleep: I always sandwich my body pillow right between my knees, like it’s the only way I’ll ever get comfortable.

One night, I was drifting off, eyelids heavy, the soft hum of my desk fan blurring out the world—when out of nowhere, I heard the inner voice of my secret crush.

[Don’t, don’t hold so tight.]

[I’m almost out of breath.]

My skin prickled, heart hammering so hard I could hear it in my ears. I jolted, shoving the pillow away like it had caught fire. And then, clear as day, I heard a low, hoarse groan—Caleb Foster’s dream-boy voice, right by my ear. My heart did a backflip.

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I just stared at the body pillow in my arms, really starting to question my grip on reality. Was I actually hearing Caleb Foster’s voice in my head? Was my crush getting so out of control that I was starting to hallucinate? That’s seriously freaky. I rubbed my eyes and told myself I had to check again, just to be sure I wasn’t losing it.

It looked like something straight out of a TikTok haul video—oversized, squishy, and way too cute for my own good. The pillow was shaped like a fat, stretched-out kitten, almost five feet long, plush and floppy. I’d just gotten it from Amazon Prime two days ago—free shipping, too. I love how you can squeeze it, flop on it, whatever. It’s honestly the best thing I’ve spent money on this semester. But right now, I braced myself and whacked the poor cat right in its fuzzy belly.

Right then—swear to God—Caleb Foster’s FaceTime lit up my phone. I almost dropped it. Two in the morning! What is he doing calling me at this hour? We barely even know each other, just Insta mutuals from a group project last semester. We’re not exactly texting buddies.

Totally suspicious, I accepted the call, and his perfect face took over my screen, all high cheekbones and sleepy eyes.

When I started at Savannah University, I crushed on him instantly. You really couldn’t help it—he looked like someone who should’ve been modeling in New York, not walking around campus with the rest of us mortals. But he’s always been this icy, untouchable type. He’s the guy everyone’s into, but no one actually knows. I had zero chance, so I kept it to myself. Secret crush life.

My throat felt dry, so I asked the dumbest question ever: “Wait—Caleb? For real?”

His eyes were red-rimmed, way softer than usual. He looked like he’d either been crying or up all night. His voice was raspy, tight, like he’d just gotten yelled at: “Yeah.”

“What are you doing?”

It’s past two in the morning, Nat, what do you think he’s doing? I tried to sound chill: “Sleeping, obviously.”

Caleb’s jaw flexed like he was about to say something and then swallowed it. The room got real quiet, and then, even though his lips didn’t move, I heard his voice whisper in my ear:

[Can’t let Natalie know I’m sharing senses with her body pillow.]

[Otherwise, she definitely won’t want to cuddle me to sleep anymore.]

Me: …

The silence stretched between us, my mind spinning so fast I thought it’d short-circuit. The dorm was dead quiet except for my wild heartbeat and the low hum of my desk fan.

I stared at the phone, half expecting Ashton Kutcher to jump out and yell I’d been Punk’d.