Chapter 5: Rumors, Rival, and Spring Fest

13

"I..."

I opened my mouth, wanting to say something, but nothing fit.

My brain raced, desperate to find the right words. I felt stupid, like I was back in middle school.

Caleb is so outstanding, girls lining up for him, he'd have to be crazy to pick a stiff guy like me.

I pictured all the girls who'd tried to catch his attention, and wondered how I could possibly compare.

Maybe my awkward face made the dorm atmosphere freeze for a moment.

The silence stretched, awkward and heavy.

Just when I thought no one would speak, Caleb suddenly smiled:

His lips curled in a smirk, eyes glinting with mischief.

"Just kidding."

"Look how scared you are."

His smile was mocking, but it didn't reach his eyes—knuckles blanching white as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

It was like he was wearing a mask, hiding something underneath.

Lin was first to react, chuckling:

"Wow! To see Caleb joke in my lifetime, shocking haha."

"A year and a half, Caleb finally fits in, I'm so moved!"

Derek grabbed a tissue and exaggeratedly wailed, imitating Queen Elizabeth.

He dabbed his eyes, pretending to sob. I rolled mine so hard it hurt.

Their act eased the awkwardness quickly.

No one brought up the topic again.

The tension melted, replaced by the easy banter of friends.

After that night, Caleb's attitude towards me didn't change much.

He kept his distance, but still helped me with homework and brought me snacks.

But in his words and actions, there was a subtle coldness.

He shut down, walls up. The warmth I'd gotten used to was gone.

If classmates asked about us, he shut them down with a cold look.

His glare was enough to make anyone back off.

Rumors of our breakup spread through the school.

Even the lunch ladies whispered about us, passing notes over the counter—though a day later our RA slid a Pride sticker across my desk and the campus sent one of those inclusivity emails. Screenshots live forever; so do receipts.

Buying cigarettes downstairs, I overheard girls excitedly chatting:

"Finally, I've been waiting for this day, I said Caleb and Marcus would break up!"

"Hey, you guys shipping CP is one thing, but you really believed it?"

"But they never denied it, silence is basically admitting."

"Forget it, probably just messing around, they don't seem gay at all."

Their words stabbed a little, even though I told myself I didn't care.

This was what I wanted at first.

I had planned for it, but it felt empty now.

But for some reason, my heart felt heavy and bitter.

I pressed my hand to my chest, wondering if anyone else felt like this.

As summer approached, the night wind was hot.

Sweat trickled down my neck as I leaned against the wall, lost in thought.

I sighed, about to go upstairs.

My breath came slow and shaky, the heaviness settling in.

Then I saw a tall figure under the streetlight, a trace of red at his fingertips.

Caleb stood alone by the parking deck’s designated smoking area—embers pulsing at his cigarette tip, ash scent drifting under the orange glow.

My pupils shrank.

When did Caleb start smoking?

He'd always hated the smell, said it ruined your taste buds.

As I stepped, I accidentally crushed a pile of cardboard, making a loud noise.

The sound echoed in the quiet night, breaking the tension.

I'm sure Caleb saw me.

His eyes flickered my way, but he didn't speak.

But he said nothing, didn't even give me a trash-look, just stubbed out his cigarette and took the stairs from the other side.

He walked away, shoulders squared, leaving me rooted to the spot.

I stared at his back, my heart flooded with sourness.

My throat tightened, regret prickling my skin.

In that moment, I realized—

Caleb was starting to treat me like a stranger.

But I think, I really like Caleb.

14

This week's major assignment was offline market research.

Interior design class was no joke, especially with Professor McCarthy breathing down our necks—photo logs, a brand style matrix, price point surveys, and a rubric bullet for a Canvas upload and in-class presentation.

Seeing me group with Derek, Lin naturally joined Caleb, and the two headed out early.

Their efficiency made me jealous, but I pretended not to care.

Me and Derek, after yelling at each other a dozen times, finally dragged ourselves out of bed.

He wore his signature anime tee, still half asleep, but ready to go.

By the time we got to the furniture store, it was noon.

The store smelled of sawdust and lemon polish, sunlight streaming through big windows—a modern showroom with Eames knockoffs and a West Elm-meets-IKEA vibe.

Thinking health comes first, we decided to eat before working.

My stomach rumbled, Derek's eyes locked onto the pizza place across the street.

"I want pasta."

I craved carbs, brain fried from lack of sleep.

"I want pizza."

Derek licked his lips, already picturing a slice loaded with cheese.

"No way, I can't stand black pepper, and hate tomato meat sauce!" Derek pouted.

His face scrunched up, hands waving for emphasis.

"You glutton, born hungry?" I checked my empty pockets, glaring.

He shrugged, making puppy eyes. I caved, as always.

I started missing Caleb as my meal buddy, he'd always accommodate me.

His quiet presence, picking the right place without a fuss. I missed it.

"Listen to me, student card is 65% off on weekdays, basically free."

He dragged me into the pizza place.

The waitress recognized us, winking at Derek. We slid into a booth, the red vinyl squeaking.

After sitting, Derek complained about sore legs, insisted I go get the condiments.

He stretched his feet out, grumbling about his plantar fasciitis. I rolled my eyes and went.

Not wanting to hear him whine, I went to the sauce station.

I fiddled with the ranch packets, stacking napkins while eavesdropping on the couple behind me.

While grabbing ranch, someone tapped my shoulder: "Marcus, what a coincidence."

It was Lin.

His hair was tousled, shirt untucked. He looked more awake than I felt.

I saw he had three drinks, puzzled: "Aren't you and Caleb a pair?"

He shrugged, balancing the cups expertly.

"Oh... This morning, Aubrey from the next dorm asked to join, Caleb agreed."

He pointed behind: "We're over there."

I looked over, seeing Aubrey sitting across from Caleb.

Aubrey wore a purple hoodie, chatting animatedly. Caleb actually looked engaged.

I vaguely remembered Aubrey.

He's in the dance club, looks delicate, and Derek often tried to poach him for the anime club.

After last year's school celebration, someone saw him holding hands with a sports major, so everyone assumed his orientation.

The rumor mill spun fast in our small college town; I reminded myself not to assume based on holding hands.

The two were chatting happily.

Caleb's eyes softened, his laugh more frequent than I'd ever seen. I felt a pang of jealousy.

After Aubrey laughed, even the usually serious Caleb smiled.

I gripped my tray, trying not to stare.

I felt a bit uncomfortable inside.

It was irrational, but I couldn't help it.

The way Aubrey looked at Caleb was just like those girls.

I recognized the look — hopeful, eager, waiting for a sign.

And Caleb didn't seem to mind Aubrey's orientation.

He talked easily, not tense at all.

But if so, why did he act so disgusted with me that day?

The more I thought, the worse I felt, and after returning, I accidentally dumped all the pepperoni and olives into the mushroom soup.

Derek eyed me sarcastically: "Why is Marcus looking so bad, saw something he shouldn't?"

He wiggled his eyebrows, smirking. I threw a breadstick at him, but missed.

...He really picks the worst topics.

Recalling the annoying scene, I stuffed a breadstick into his mouth.

"Eat, or I'll dunk you in a pig cage!"

He chewed, laughing, as if my threats were a joke.

15

Derek talks a lot, but when working, he uses his mouth to great effect.

He charmed the sales rep into sharing insider tips, while I snapped photos for our report.

He chatted with staff to learn market trends, while I explored brand styles and design inspiration.

I scribbled notes, mapping out new styles for our group project.

With clear division, we finished by evening.

We fist-bumped, proud of our hustle.

On the way back, Derek went to pick up a prize at the post station, while I hurried to shower, so we split up.

I jogged the path, feeling the day's grime settle on my skin.

The path was lined with thick bushes and flowerbeds.

Sunset filtered through the leaves, casting long shadows. I breathed in the fresh air, letting my mind wander.

I slung my bag and strolled, when I heard voices in the bushes.

A faint laugh, a familiar tone. I slowed down, curiosity getting the better of me.

"Hey, Caleb, want to try with me?"

Hearing a male voice, I perked up, sneaking a peek to see who was so bold.

I ducked behind a tree, peering through the branches.

Seeing the familiar purple hoodie, I realized it was Aubrey.

His hands fluttered as he spoke, eyes bright.

"If I made you misunderstand today, I'm sorry, but...sorry, I'm not gay."

Caleb frowned, rejecting directly.

His voice was firm, no room for argument.

"Then what about you and Marcus?"

Aubrey didn't seem surprised, instead stepped closer.

His posture was relaxed, almost playful.

For some reason, my heart raced, anxious about Caleb's answer.

My chest tightened, ears straining for his reply.

After a while, I heard him sigh quietly:

"He's different."

Wait, how am I different?

Breakfasts in my hand when I forgot to eat, that library patience, his jacket tied around my waist like I was worth protecting—was that what he meant?

I hoped Aubrey would ask for me, but then felt something crawl up my back.

A tickle, then a sharp itch. I panicked, jumping out of hiding.

The furry feeling made my hair stand on end.

"Damn ahhhh—!!!!"

My scream echoed, louder than I'd intended. I frantically patted my clothes, stepping on rocks and twigs.

I frantically patted my clothes, stepped on a stone, and crashed through the bushes.

My bag tore, leaves stuck in my hair. Two bystanders stopped, one already lifting a phone to film.

"Why are you here?"

Aubrey looked surprised, like he'd seen a ghost.

He raised an eyebrow, backing away slightly.

"Damn, damn," I ignored him, scrambling to shake my shirt:

"A bug fell on me, help me check!"

I twisted, desperate for someone to check my back. Caleb rolled his eyes.

"It's a cicada, already squashed."

Caleb moved his shoe, coughing lightly: "...Put your shirt back on."

His voice was gentle, but the blush on my cheeks was anything but.

Only then did I realize my loose tee was nearly up to my neck, so I quickly pulled it down.

My skin prickled, embarrassed to my core.

"Didn’t know you cleaned up this well," Aubrey said, circling—then Caleb blocked him warningly:

"Don't go after him."

His eyes flashed, making it clear he meant business.

Aubrey rolled his eyes: "Don't let me look, but your eyes are glued to him."

"You broke up but still so possessive, you're interesting."

"And you," he pointed at me, "Can you not look at me so warily? Like I'll snatch him away."

Was it that obvious?

I awkwardly wiped sweat to hide my guilt.

My hands shook, but I tried to look casual.

"I'm off, don't want to be part of your play."

He strutted off, backpack swinging, leaving me and Caleb alone.

Watching him leave, I fell into thought.

My mind spun with questions I was too scared to ask.

Suddenly wanted to ask Caleb why he didn't tell him our real status.

I bit my tongue, the words stuck behind my teeth.

15

After Aubrey left, the atmosphere between me and Caleb became subtle and ambiguous.

I could feel the tension, neither of us sure what to say.

After three seconds of inner struggle, I licked my dry lips:

"Just now you..."

"Let's go," he dodged, seeming unwilling to continue.

He turned, hands in his pockets, walking fast. I trailed behind, mind spinning.

Seeing him turn away, I chickened out again.

Right, he said he's not gay, what am I fantasizing for?

I shook my head, telling myself to stop hoping.

If my feelings are exposed, we won't even be bros.

I sighed in my head, jogging to catch up.

The silence between us felt heavier than ever.

Half a month passed quickly.

The days blurred together—midterms, project critiques, Spring Fest flyers taped to every door.

With the school celebration coming, the counselor told every club to plan activities.

The whole campus was getting hyped, banners everywhere, flyers on every door.

When the anime club was founded, Derek coerced me, Caleb, and Lin into joining.

He'd made us sign up for extra credit, promising pizza and cosplay.

To get everyone club credits, he suggested a small cosplay expo on campus.

Derek was in his element, organizing photo booths and costume polls.

He's the president and has experience, so we agreed.

His spreadsheets were legendary, and he bullied us into helping.

But in the meeting room, we suddenly clashed.

"Wait," I held my forehead, "Why do I have to wear the mascot's girl costume, not Caleb?"

He shrugged, showing his phone: "I did a poll, you won overwhelmingly, this is the people's will, Marcus."

He grinned, spinning the phone so I could see the numbers.

I peeked at the screen and nearly fainted.

My name topped the poll, the comments filled with hearts and fire emojis.

What are girls thinking these days!

Seeing me silent, he pretended to leave: "If you won't, I'll ask Aubrey."

His threat was empty, but I couldn't risk it.

"Who said I won't?"

I jumped up, "It's for the team, don't thank me too much later."

I puffed my chest, pretending confidence.

"Oh—" he dragged the sound, "Someone's anxious, why, I won't say, just playing."

He winked, smirking like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Damn, forgot he heard about Aubrey's interest in Caleb.

"Shut up!"

I climbed over the table to wrestle him, hiding my burning face and ignoring Caleb's fleeting smile.

Caleb watched, eyes soft, lips twitching with a smile I almost missed.

16

Cosplay expo preparations went smoothly.

Derek hustled the club into line, organizing schedules and snacks. Our group chat was chaos.

On the celebration day, everyone got up early, ready for battle.

We loaded costumes, props, and snacks into plastic bins. My Amazon wig shed like a cat, bobby pins slid, and the Spirit Halloween heels were half a size off.

To ensure the event ran smoothly, Lin and Caleb went to check the booth, while I prepared with other members.

My costume was a mess of sequins and tulle, shoes three sizes too small.

Changing clothes, I found the girl costume Derek gave me was a split high-slit dress.

The slit ran dangerously high, making me nervous about every step.

I instantly darkened, cursing his ancestors.

My glare could've melted the polyester, but there was no time to swap.

With time running out, I ignored it, zipped up and rushed out.

The fabric clung awkwardly, my legs bare. I tried not to trip over my own feet.

For some reason, people stared at me in surprise.

Their eyes followed me, some mouths open, some grinning. It felt like walking a red carpet.

Uncomfortable under the stares, I wanted to run, but feared losing my wig, so hurried on.

My hands shook, clutching the wig tight. I forced a smile, cheeks burning.

Near the booth, a guy approached:

He wore a varsity jacket, eyes wide, smile too confident.

"Miss, you look hot, can I get your contact?"

He flashed his phone, ready to take a selfie.

"He can't."

Caleb suddenly appeared, coldly interrupting, grabbing my wrist and dragging me away.

His grip was firm, his glare enough to make the guy back off.

At the booth corner, he pointed at my waist: "What's with the dress?"

His voice was sharp, eyes scanning the uneven zipper.

Reminded, I saw the zipper had slipped, the fabric hanging loose.

My cheeks burned even hotter. I tugged at the fabric, trying to fix it myself.

I lowered my head to fix it, but the lock was stuck.

My hands fumbled, but it wouldn't budge.

Caleb stayed distant, watching.

He crossed his arms, waiting for me to ask.

After being stared at for ten seconds, I gave in:

My pride folded, and I looked up with puppy eyes.

"Caleb, can't you help?"

"Okay."

He calmly stepped behind me, as if he'd been waiting.

His fingers were careful, brushing my lower back gently.

I felt a sense of falling into a trap.

His hot breath on my ear, fingers pressing my lower back, "Is it stuck here?"

I shivered, nodding.

"I-I can't see, how would I know?"

Nervous, I felt his callused fingers brushing my skin.

"Don't move."

His warm palm gripped my waist, his chin nearly touching my neck.

I shivered, stayed still until a crisp sound signaled it was fixed.

Relief flooded me, and I stepped away, heart pounding.

"What are you two doing, hurry up and help!"

Hearing Derek's shout, I quickly pushed Caleb away.

He stumbled a little, but caught himself. I busied myself with receipts, avoiding his gaze.

I don't know about him, but if I stay any longer, I'll be in trouble. Thanks—didn't realize the zipper dropped.