Valentine’s Day Shutdown & Comment Chaos

The second time I tried to bug my childhood friend, he completely shut me down.

The look Mason gave me was pure Saturday morning couch-moving energy—the kind you get when someone’s asking you for a favor you’d rather die than do. He barely glanced up from his phone, sounding totally over it. "I don't have time to hang out, Autumn. It's Valentine's Day, and, get this, Savannah—yeah, the Savannah, the one who only drinks oat milk and runs the campus radio—finally agreed to go out with me this afternoon."

I just stood there, mouth open, ready to fire off a comeback—but nothing came out. My fingers fiddled with the edge of my sleeve. For a second, I seriously considered just dipping out and handling my business solo. That’s when his aloof roommate wandered in, looking like he’d rather eat glass than be here. The apartment always had this lingering scent of old pizza and Mason’s cheap cologne, but suddenly my pulse started thumping in my ears, like something electric was about to drop.

Out of nowhere, floating comments scrolled across my vision, like some weird TikTok overlay glitching into real life:

[LOL, the second guy just saw the main girl in a silk nightgown—his brain must be short-circuiting, but he’s still trying to play it cool. That’s one awkward puppy.]

[Girl, why aren’t you noticing the second guy? Every time you show up for your childhood friend, the poor roommate’s left taking cold showers all night. So sad.]

[Even though the second guy is struggling, he keeps himself in check. The temptation’s right there. Girl, stop chasing that clueless childhood friend!]

I blinked, just trying to wrap my head around what the hell I was seeing. Was the universe live-streaming my life now? And the comment section was brutal. Part of me wanted to laugh, but honestly, the vibe was too surreal.

I perked up, suddenly struck by an idea as I looked at him.

Shifting from foot to foot, I figured—hey, why not go for it? "Hey, um, can I get your help with something?"

So, the second time I tried to bug Mason, he gave me the cold shoulder again.

He nudged me aside, got up, and started yanking on his jeans. Even grabbed some gel and ran it through his hair while checking himself out in the mirror.

He had that cocky, half-distracted swagger he always pulled when he thought he was about to score. Watching him fuss with his hair, you’d think he was prepping for a GQ shoot, not just another college date. I rolled my eyes—classic Mason.

"I don’t have time for this, Autumn. It’s Valentine’s Day, and Savannah finally said yes to a date."

He didn’t even bother looking at me, just kept smoothing his hair like I was background noise.

"And don’t text me, okay? I don’t want her getting the wrong idea—I’ve been working on this for months."

Ouch. That stung more than I wanted to admit. Wrapped up in the blanket, I felt a little dizzy—like someone had yanked the rug out from under me.

The blanket was one of those fuzzy throws Mason’s mom sent him for Christmas. It still smelled faintly like dryer sheets and nostalgia. I pulled it tighter, suddenly feeling way too vulnerable.

"You’re going on a date with Savannah on Valentine’s Day? Then why’d you ask me to come over?"

Mason turned and looked at me, totally unfazed, like this was just another Tuesday:

He shrugged, all nonchalant. "It’s our first date. I wanted you to help me pick out a shirt or something. I want to look good."

"Autumn, we’re so close—come on, you don’t mind, right?"