As always, class was long and boring.
The only thing keeping Victor awake was Pamela. He spent the entire class side eyeing her. It was the only class the two of them shared, and it always ended far too quickly for his liking. Sometimes they'd even make light conversation when time allowed, but Pamela was ultimately focused on her studies, and he didn't get to say much due to the professor fast way of speaking leaving them little room to do anything else.
As for what Victor was thinking about, we'll he had been planning to ask her out for a while now—he just didn't know when. He kept thinking about the timing, the money he'd need to take her somewhere nice, and even fixing himself up a little first. He wanted to get to know her better before asking her out so she wouldn't hit him with the classic line: "I don't know you well enough."
He hadn't exactly asked out a ton of girls—he could count them on one hand—but that didn't mean he was totally inexperienced either.
Regardless, he was set on confessing to Pamela. He just needed the right moment, one without complications. He felt that moment was coming soon. After all, he hadn't seen her talk to anyone else the way she did with him.
His thoughts wandered, and time passed faster than expected. He'd barely jotted down the main points of the lecture before the room was already clearing out. As usual, Pamela neatly packed her things, giving Victor a window to speak while he pretended to finish picking up his own junk.
"Say… is your house far?" he asked, fumbling for words. "I'm not saying this to, uh, sta… It's just, your brother said there's something he wants to do this weekend and mentioned needing to go back to your house. Me and the others are supposed to help him."
He winced inwardly, realizing how awkward that sounded especially when he was about to say something about stalking. He tried this best to steer the conversation back on track while feeling his sweat forming on his back.
"Oh? Coming to visit?" Pamela tilted her head, her brow slightly furrowed. "I hope it's tomorrow—Rian's coming back from his service. My older brother's in the military, and he's finally getting a string of breaks. I was hoping we could all spend some time together. As for the house… it's close by. I still don't see why my brother needed to take lodging here though."
"Oh… well, I hope Norman can make time if that's the case. I'll remind him. How about it?" Victor offered, hoping to earn a few points.
"Alright. Just tell him I want to go to the old place. He'll know what it means. We used to hang out there as siblings."
"Sure. It won't be hard. I'll be seeing him after this. Well… I hope you get home safe. Take care."
He watched her shoulder her pink bag as her friends arrived to walk her out. There was no chance to keep talking now that they came to pick her up.
"Thanks. I'll see you next time then. Hope you understood the class—you seemed kind of out of it today," she said with a soft smile.
Victor stood up with a sigh, clenching his fist in frustration. Why couldn't I say something cooler? Still, he'd given himself a task—one that involved her—and that was enough for now.
Feeling dumb, he left the class and made his way to the dorms to prepare for tonight's big plan.
When he arrived at his room, Norman was already lounging on his bed, blasting music through his earphones and staring at the ceiling. Completely out of it.
Victor ignored him at first, diving into his homework. Even if it was Friday, he wanted to clear the easy assignments so the weekend would be truly free. He rushed through what he could and left the rest for tomorrow when he'd have a clearer mind.
A few hours later, Norman finally spoke—right behind him.
"Bro, I've been calling you for five minutes. We need to get ready for tonight. My parents and sis are heading to visit my gran—it's her birthday, so they'll be gone. We gotta take my brother's truck and have it back by tomorrow before Dad comes back to pick up my brother."
"Alright, I'm done here anyway. Let's go." Victor got up. He didn't have much to change into—just four outfits that he mixed and matched to stretch his wardrobe—but he made do.
Within half an hour, the boys were on a packed bus, heading to Norman's place. It was already 8:40 PM, and they were rushing to beat the night.
"Man, I told you we should've pitched in for an Uber," one of the other boys, Jess, complained, sweating inside the crowded bus.
"Bro, I told you not to wear that damn hoodie," Norman snapped. "And why waste money on a ride when we need it for booze?"
Victor noticed Norman seemed more on edge than usual. It made him question the whole plan. Honestly, he'd only agreed to come so he could see Pamela's house—and gauge whether he even stood a chance.
Twenty minutes later, they arrived. And damn—the place was huge. A two-story home with rows of large windows, a garage for four cars, and sprinklers soaking a pristine lawn.
"Holy crap, bro. I didn't know you were this rich," another of the boys Mark, muttered.
Victor swallowed hard. He hadn't expected this either. But it didn't scare him off. He still had time to make money, to grow into someone who could stand beside Pamela. He wasn't asking for marriage—just a date or two. The rest could come later.
"You don't live like this?" Norman asked seriously, then burst out laughing. "Relax. My dad and granddad bought this place together. My old pa paid more. We live pretty normal otherwise."
He pulled out a key. "Now come on, I hope no one's home."
But before they entered, Norman handed out something unexpected.
"Masks? Dude, why are we wearing masks to go into your house?" one of the boys asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Man, we've got more cameras than a damn department store," Norman said. "I'll guide us along the blind spots, but just in case—we run if anything goes wrong."
The boys exchanged unsure glances.
"Just do it. Let's get this done and have some fun," Norman said, slipping on his mask and dashing ahead.
Victor hesitated only a moment before following. No way he was staying behind in an unfamiliar neighborhood.
They entered through the side garage and waited while Norman searched for the car keys. Four minutes later, Norman reappeared and began opening the garage door.
Everything was going smoothly—until Norman tossed Victor the garage remote.
"This damn thing won't close from the outside, and my dad still hasn't fixed it. Stay back and close it, then exit the same way. I'll be in the truck waiting—so hurry."
Norman pulled the truck out, and everyone piled in. Victor pushed the button to close the garage door—when he heard a noise inside.
Loud. He was hoping it was an animal, a dog or cat, something that wouldn't kill him.
But that was not the case, a figure appeared as he opened the garage door, flashlight in hand.
A man by the look of things in his mid-twenties shouted, "Hey!"
Victor froze. Panic flooded his thoughts. No, no, no—not now.
He waved his arms. "Wait, I—"
Two gunshots rang out.
One hit his chest. The other, his leg.
"Stop… stop…" he tried to plead, his voice warbled.
He tore off the mask to show he wasn't armed, but the chest wound made it hard to breathe. The blood began to drown his words.
"Wait… don't tell me, Norman… wait…"
The man stepped closer, weapon still in hand.
"Where's my truck? Why are you so damn young and why do you have the garage keys…?"
The man's face twisted. "No wonder that damn truck disappeared so easily and the damn garage door closed so smoothly… don't tell me you're his friend, fuck."
"Ye…" Victor choked. Blood bubbled at his lips as he clutched his wounds.
"Damn it, kid… why'd you do something so stupid?"
Victor's vision blurred. The pain faded and only a cold numbness remained.
His mind clung to a final thought—Pamela.
"Tell Pam… I…"