The week crawls by with unbearable slowness. Monday brings three classes, none with Ethan, and I spend the entire day distracted, checking my phone between lectures and wondering if he'll email again. He doesn't.
Tuesday morning I wake early and spend an hour getting ready for Media Psych, telling myself it's just my normal routine. Riley notices immediately.
"You're doing that thing again."
"What thing?"
"The thing where you pretend you're not trying while very obviously trying."
"I'm not—"
"You changed your outfit twice. I watched you."
I don't have a response to that. The lecture hall feels different when I walk in, charged somehow, like everyone can sense something shifted. Or maybe that's just me projecting my own nervous energy onto the room.
