Chapter 2: Eggs, Strawberries, and Campus Gossip

Back in the dorm that night, I nervously messaged my unremarked Venmo contact:

[Hey, Lucas.]

I stared at the message for five minutes before hitting send. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, second-guessing every word.

—He was a freshman. Maybe keeping it casual would help close the gap.

I considered adding a little smiley face, but chickened out. I mean, I wanted to sound friendly, not desperate.

He replied quickly: [Hey.]

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. At least he wasn’t ghosting me.

[Nice night, huh?]

—I hadn’t figured out what to say, so I just sent something random.

I winced as soon as I sent it. Who even says that? Maybe I’d been reading too many cheesy novels.

...

I could almost see his deadpan expression. I typed: [I can’t believe Professor Grant is your mom. What a coincidence.]

[Yeah, pretty wild.]

He kept it short, but not unfriendly. I could practically hear the dry humor in his voice.

How was I supposed to keep this going?

My mind was blank. I scrolled through old messages, looking for inspiration, but nothing came.

No way fifty bucks was going to keep him quiet for three years.

I flopped back onto my pillow, groaning. This was going to be a long semester.

Miserable, I poked my head out from my bunk and asked my roommate, "Casey, how do you win someone over?"

Casey looked up from her laptop, eyebrows raised. I almost never asked for advice, so she knew it was serious.

Casey was in every club, co-ran the confessions Instagram, and had way more social experience than me.

She juggled more group chats than I could count and always knew the latest campus drama. If anyone had answers, it was her.

"Guy or girl?"

"Guy."

I tried to sound nonchalant, but my ears were burning. Casey smirked, sensing a story.

"You’re finally coming out of your shell? I thought all you cared about was your lab work." Her eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Who is it?"

I shook my head, but the blush gave me away. She grinned even wider.

"It’s not what you think."

She didn’t press, just answered absentmindedly while watching her show: "Just check in on him, make sure he’s eating—three meals a day. Chasing a guy is easy."

She waved a hand, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. I rolled my eyes, but filed it away for later.

I ignored the last part and mulled it over.

I chewed on my pencil, thinking. Could it really be that simple?

Lunch and dinner were out. I worked at the dining hall during both, meals included.

It was the only way I could afford school. Free food, minimum wage, and endless hours on my feet.

Breakfast was cheap.

And most people skipped it, so maybe it’d stand out. I scribbled a quick plan in my notebook.

Lucas was basically campus famous, so it was easy to find his schedule.

I just had to scroll through the confessions page—his face popped up everywhere. Someone had even posted his class schedule last week.

The next morning, I bought a hard-boiled egg and a cup of orange juice and brought them to his class.

I hovered outside the classroom door, clutching the little bag like it was a peace offering. My hands were clammy, and I nearly dropped the juice twice.

There were a lot of people in his class. I’d planned to sneak in, but he was sitting in the very front—tall and straight-backed, impossible to miss.

I ducked behind a column, wishing I could shrink. But I’d come this far. I sucked in a breath and marched up the aisle.

So much for being low-key. I rushed up, crouched by his desk, and startled him.

He looked up, surprised. For a second, I thought he’d pretend not to know me, but his eyes softened just a little.

I offered the bag, trying to look casual. My heart was hammering so loud I was sure he could hear it.

I grinned: "Lucas, you haven’t had breakfast yet, right?"

I tried to sound breezy, but my voice came out a little high. I felt like I was auditioning for a rom-com.

He raised an eyebrow. "I have."

He sounded skeptical, but not unkind. I swallowed, determined not to give up.

Why wasn’t he playing along?

I shot him a pleading look. Work with me here, I thought.

I kept smiling: "I knew you hadn’t. I bought this just for you."

I nudged the bag closer, hoping he’d get the hint. My cheeks ached from forcing the smile.

He was quiet for a moment, then his long fingers hooked the bag from my hand. "Thank you, Jamie."

He took it!

I almost sagged with relief. I managed a little wave before scurrying out of the room, feeling like I’d just survived a boss battle.

If he’s taking my food, maybe he’ll take my secret to the grave too?

I grinned all the way back to my dorm. Maybe Casey was onto something after all.

I nearly teared up on the spot.

I wiped my eyes, blaming the wind. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had made me feel this nervous—and hopeful.

I decided to strike while the iron was hot, bringing him breakfast for three days straight.

I set my alarm early, braved the cold, and tried to act like this was just another part of my routine. Each morning, I’d find a new way to say, "You need to eat."

By the end, I’d blown my entire breakfast budget for the month.

I stared at my bank app, sighing. Worth it, I told myself. I’d just have to live on free coffee and crackers for a while.

I dug a bag of strawberries out of the mini-fridge in the dorm—Casey had brought them from home. I’d been saving them, but now was the perfect time.

I rinsed them off and packed them carefully, hoping they wouldn’t get squished. It felt like a tiny luxury.

On the fourth day, I brought him three strawberries. Not two, not four—three.

I balanced them on a napkin, nervous and excited. The class was buzzing, and I tried to blend in.

He looked confused, so I quickly explained: "These are strawberries. You can eat them."

I blurted it out before I could stop myself. My face burned the second the words left my mouth.

"Hahaha!"

The students sitting near him burst out laughing.

I wanted to sink into the floor, but Lucas just gave me a look—half amused, half sympathetic. I managed a weak smile.

He accepted them with a complicated look.

He held the strawberries carefully, like they were something precious. I hoped he could see how much they meant.

That night, after finishing up in the lab, Casey pounced as soon as I got back: "Jamie, are you trying to win over Lucas Grant?"

She popped up from her chair, eyes wide with excitement. I knew she’d been dying to ask.

I was floored by her question.

I gaped at her, mouth open. "What? No!"

She went on, "You’re on the confessions page."

She shoved her phone in my face. My stomach dropped.

It was a post from a senior—Casey had just seen it:

"You never make a move, but when you do, it’s the hardest target."

I groaned. That sounded exactly like something my roommate would write.

"Lucas Grant got confessed to a ton during orientation and rejected everyone. How did you manage to bring him breakfast four days in a row?"

I took her phone, baffled, and saw an anonymous post—

A photo of me crouched by Lucas’s desk, handing him strawberries.

I covered my face with my hands. It was blurry, but there was no mistaking my hair or my nervous smile.

[This girl looks like a senior, haha, so funny. She brought the campus heartthrob three hard-boiled eggs in a row, then switched to strawberries today.]

The first comments were pretty harmless:

[I’m dying, she brought strawberries for breakfast?]

[I was there—she said, ‘These are strawberries, you can eat them.’ I lost it!]

[Four days straight, that’s dedication, but I doubt Lucas Grant’s into it.]

I tried to laugh it off, but my hands were shaking. It was weird seeing my life dissected by strangers.

But then the nasty comments started:

[I sit behind the heartthrob. He only took her breakfast because she looked like she was about to cry. What a manipulator!]

[I’ve seen her working in the dining hall and library, always eating mac and cheese and pickles. Given that, how is she even going after the campus heartthrob? She’s way out of her league.]

[She’s at best a 4. I wouldn’t even consider her.]

The words stung. I tried to focus on the screen. Casey’s jaw clenched as she scrolled.

Casey couldn’t take it, snatched back her phone, and used her admin powers to delete the post.

She tapped furiously, then pulled me into a hug. "People suck. Don’t listen to them."

She rubbed my back. "Jamie, don’t get upset. There are a lot of weirdos online."

She handed me a chocolate bar from her desk, her way of saying, "I’ve got your back."

I wasn’t really angry—just wondering how I’d face Lucas tomorrow. Should I still bring strawberries?

I lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Maybe I’d just pretend it never happened.