Chapter 4: Running Away, Falling Hard

He stood by the entrance, checking his phone, looking every bit as nervous as I felt. When he spotted me, his whole face lit up. My heart skipped.

Looking closely, I thought he looked even better than in the photos.

There was something about seeing him in person—his energy, his smile. The photos hadn’t done him justice.

Especially since today he wore black-rimmed glasses—not nerdy at all; they made him look even younger.

He pulled off the look effortlessly, like he’d just stepped out of a coming-of-age movie. Unfair.

I walked toward him, my heart pounding.

Every step felt like a drumbeat. I tried to steady my breathing, hoping he couldn’t see how nervous I was.

When I stood in front of Mason, he said to me, "Hi, Autumn. I’m Mason O’Connor."

His voice was steady, but I caught the slight tremor in his hands. It made me feel a little less alone in my nerves.

To be honest, even though I’d heard Mason’s voice on the phone countless times, hearing it in person still made me nervous.

It was different—more real, more vulnerable. I had to fight the urge to look away.

Especially as he leaned in, his scent surrounding me.

He smelled faintly of fresh laundry and something citrusy—clean, bright, and a little bit intoxicating.

My heart beat even faster.

To cover up my panic, I tried to act with big-sister energy, totally at odds with my cutesy outfit: "Mason, hello."

I tried to sound casual, but my voice came out a little higher than usual. I cleared my throat, hoping he didn’t notice.

Then, I saw Mason smile, and he took out the hand he’d been hiding behind his back.

His palm was sweaty.

Knowing he was nervous made me less nervous.

I even joked, "So it’s not just me who’s nervous—you’re nervous too."

Hearing this, Mason looked up at me.

He blinked, then gave me a sheepish grin. "Busted," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Only then did I notice—he had these bright, gentle eyes. And he was so chatty online, but shy in real life.

His eyes darted away for a second, then back to mine. The contrast was adorable—confident in messages, but a little shy face-to-face. Cute.

This contrast made Mason seem really cute.

Especially as his ears turned pink.

I had to bite my lip to keep from grinning too wide. He was just so… real.

So I smiled and gently asked, "Shall we go eat?"

Mason nodded.

He offered me his arm, a little awkwardly, but I took it anyway. We walked side by side, matching steps. Awkward, but sweet.

We started walking toward the restaurant.

I don’t know if it was my imagination, but Mason seemed to deliberately slow his steps, just to match my slower pace because of the uncomfortable frills.

It wasn’t my imagination—that’s just how it was.

He even glanced down at my shoes, probably noticing how I struggled in them. He adjusted his stride, making sure I could keep up. Thoughtful.

Mason was much taller than me, so his stride should have been bigger. But now, our steps were in sync.

He was waiting for me, which made me a bit excited.

It was such a small thing, but it made my heart flutter. Thoughtful guys were rare, and Mason was nailing it.

After walking for a while, I felt like if I didn’t say something, the atmosphere would get awkward.

So I thought, since we’re eating together, let’s talk about food preferences.

So I asked, "This place is kinda spicy—are you cool with that?"

I watched his face for a reaction, hoping I hadn’t picked the wrong spot.

Mason stopped and thought for a moment.

"I like it. Whatever you like, I like."

His words hit me right in the heart, again and again.

I laughed, shaking my head. "You don’t have to say that just to impress me, you know."

I was falling, hard.

It was like we were speaking in code, every answer layered with meaning. I felt myself slipping, and honestly, I didn’t mind.

Tomorrow looked full of hope.

But I forgot—life always throws a curveball.

On the way to the restaurant with Mason, I ran into a sophomore from my department.

Of course, the universe couldn’t let me have a perfect first date. I braced myself for the inevitable awkwardness.

We’d only ever interacted when I collected his homework for the professor.

We’d barely exchanged more than a few words in class. He was just another face in the lecture hall. Nothing special.

But the sophomore walked over with a smile, like we were close.

He shouldn’t have.

He really shouldn’t, because his target wasn’t me, but Mason beside me.

The sophomore came over and patted Mason on the shoulder.

"When’s the next basketball game? All the senior girls in the basketball club want to see you, the freshman, play."

His tone was teasing, but I caught the glint in his eye. He was stirring the pot, and Mason knew it.

Then the sophomore looked at me.

"Is this your girlfriend? Also a freshman?"

"That’s a pity—the girls who like you have no chance now."

I remembered this sophomore was a sophomore, and he called Mason a freshman, so Mason must be a freshman.

Wait, so Mason’s younger than me? By how much?

Just as I was sorting out the relationships, a dramatic scene happened.

Probably because my outfit was so different today, and the sophomore hadn’t seen me much, he stared for a bit, then recognized me.

"Autumn—it’s you. I thought you’d graduated. You’re still on campus?"

"But… why are you with Mason?"

Of course he did. I wished he hadn’t recognized me, hadn’t asked those questions.

I felt the blood drain from my face. Couldn’t we just have a normal meal without running into the campus grapevine?

My stomach dropped.

I forced a smile, said hi, and reminded him, "I haven’t started my thesis defense yet, so I’m still here."