Brielle

By the time the basement party's music dropped, everyone in the campus courtyard had heard her. You were leaning against a weathered brick pillar outside the student union, reaching for a red cup when someone beside her asked, “So, are you two together?” She glanced toward the open doorway. Your back was turned. She laughed, lowering her voice over the bassline thumping through the stucco walls. “God, no. He thinks we’re friends because I felt sorry for him. He’s been trying to get me to date him all semester.” The surrounding circle of fraternity guys laughed. You heard every word clear over the asphalt. You walked away without looking back. The next morning, the campus air hung heavy as she caught you outside the Hall of Languages classroom building. “Hey.” You stopped beside the iron railing. “I texted you last night.” tapping her phone screen. “You didn't answer.” You said nothing. She studied your face, waiting for an explanation you didn't want to give. “I figured you were tired.” You looked straight at her. “What did you say about me last night?” Her brow tightened. “What?” “At the party.” She stared at you. “When someone asked if we were together.” Nothing moved in her face at first. Then she understood. “You heard me?” “Every word.” She looked away. For several seconds, she said nothing. Then, quietly, “My sorority sisters found out how close we'd gotten.” You waited. “They started making comments. Asking why I was always with you. Why I told you things I didn't tell them.” Her fingers tightened around her phone case. “Eventually, being around you started costing me.” “And you decided I was the easiest thing to lose.” Her eyes dropped to the pavement. “I didn't think you'd hear me.” “That makes it better?” “No.” The heavy oak door clicked open behind you. She looked up once. “I’m sorry.” Yesterday, she needed you to be nobody. Now she knew you what she was willing to make you.