Part 1You Wooed The Wrong Roommate

It took my roommate a whole week of cornering Holden Pierce outside his frat house just to get him to give up his number for me.

To thank her for helping me take that terrifying first step, I drained my entire summer internship savings to buy her the Prada bag she’d been obsessing over.

Right after that, I threw my entire soul into texting Holden.

I agonized over every word. By day, we shared the mundane little details of our lives; by night, we traded our deepest, quietest secrets in the dark.

A year passed. We became the kind of intimately tethered friends who could talk about absolutely anything.

Finally, I gathered every ounce of courage I had.

"The weather is gorgeous tomorrow. Do you want to finally meet up?"

Holden replied instantly.

"Baby, didn’t we just say goodnight?"

I stared at the glowing screen, my brow furrowing in confusion. The door to our apartment swung open. Blakely walked in, her arms wrapped around a massive bouquet of roses. Her cheeks were flushed, and she offered me a sheepish, breathless smile.

"When I got his number for you?" she said, her voice dripping with an apologetic lilt. "I think I kinda forgot to mention I was asking for a friend."

"He... he’s always thought the person he’s been texting was me."

* * *

The entire room went dead silent.

The only sound left in the world was the rapid-fire pinging of my phone.

Holden’s messages came flooding in, one after another:

"Did I scare you with the sudden confession?"

"I’ve been preparing for this for a long time, honestly."

"Over this past year of talking to you, I’ve felt just how incredibly sweet and genuine you are."

"At first, I thought I just saw you as a friend. But then, whenever I didn't hear from you, this physical ache would settle in my chest. That’s when I knew. I fell in love with you."

"I’m so sorry for just tracking you down and springing this on you without warning - "

But the thought remained unfinished.

One by one, right before my eyes, the messages vanished. "Unsent."

"I'm really sorry," Blakely said with a shy, giggling smile. She set the roses on her desk and pulled a velvet box from her Prada bag.

She opened it, kept the necklace for herself, and casually tossed the matching earrings onto my bed.

"Faye... I said yes to him," she hummed. "So, obviously, I can't have him texting you anymore."

She crouched by my feet, resting her chin on her hands as she leaned on my knees, looking up at me with bright, beaming eyes.

"I just gave him my actual number. I told him my old phone got hacked, so..."

A cold, prickly sweat broke out across my forehead.

My mind scrambled, violently rejecting the impossible reality unfolding in front of me.

With trembling fingers, I typed a single "?" into our thread.

Send.

A second later.

The text bubble stayed stubbornly green. Beneath it, a harsh, unforgiving notification: "Message Not Delivered."

My heart didn't just break; it flatlined.

Three hundred and sixty-five days.

Just like that, Holden had blocked me. Erased me.

Even though just last night, we had stayed up texting until 2 AM, baring our souls.

Seeing me frozen, Blakely unceremoniously shoved the earrings into my palm.

"Oh, come on," she said, her tone light and breezy. "Honestly, if I hadn't been the one asking for his number in the first place, Holden probably would never have talked to you anyway. You know how he is. Aloof. Untouchable. Half the girls on campus have tried and failed. Just take the earrings as a - "

"Blakely," I said. My voice was hollow. I turned my head, physically unable to look at her. "We aren't friends anymore."

Before she could manufacture a response, I pushed past her.

Clinging to whatever shred of dignity I had left, I climbed into my bed and violently yanked the privacy curtain shut.

In the dim, enclosed space, I scrolled through a year’s worth of history.

In the beginning, it was a sea of blue bubbles - just me, trying so hard. Then, he started replying. A trickle at first.

Eventually, if I went quiet for a few hours, Holden would be the one sending the "?"

For the last three months, it was as if our roles had flipped.

He was the one chasing my attention, initiating the late-night talks.

I had been so incandescently happy. My chest had felt full of light. I thought I had poured every drop of bravery I possessed into getting to know Holden Pierce, and I truly believed it hadn't been in vain.

...But now.

It was all shattered glass.

I pulled the duvet over my head and wept until my lungs ached, eventually spiraling into an exhausted, feverish sleep.

Early the next morning, a voice called out from the apartment doorway.

"Faye! There’s a guy downstairs looking for you. Tall, lean, incredibly gorgeous. He said his name is Holden."