Chapter 2: Mismatched Shoes, Mixed Signals

The next morning, all four of us overslept for our 8 AM class.

Right as I hit the bottom of the dorm stairs, I almost collided with someone from the guys’ dorm across the way. I looked up—it was Carter Evans, the most popular guy in our department.

And of course, Carter Evans. Top-notch grades, looks like he stepped out of a magazine, family’s loaded. But for some reason, the guy seemed to seriously dislike me.

We’re in the same club, and I just got his Messenger two days ago. First thing he did? Asked what I was up to, all suspicious, then basically called me weird.

My roommates always said, "He looks super cold," but I didn’t think he’d actually talk like that too.

I’d wanted to tell him I liked him right then, but the way he spoke made me swallow my words. No way was I letting him look down on me.

So, I just deleted him.

But today, Carter looked at me a little differently. His gaze was intense, and for a second, something complicated flickered there—a stark contrast to the warm morning sunlight. What was that look about?

His stare made me feel a little guilty.

My roommate shouted from up ahead, "Come on, Savannah! We’re gonna be late!"

Yeah, he was probably just laughing at my mismatched shoes.

The whole morning was gen-ed classes. I was on a mission: Operation Win Mom Back. Bored, I started bugging my mom again.

"Miss me yet?"

Sent.

"I did."

I sent a pouty-face sticker. "What else did you forget?"

"Missed my baby."

So weird. My mom used to call me baby all the time, super affectionate, without needing reminders. Maybe now that I’m in college, she doesn’t love me anymore?

I decided to win Mom back.

I’d always told her about going to the hot springs at the resort, but never had the time. Luckily, summer break was coming up.

"Once break starts, let’s go to the hot springs. I even picked out my swimsuit already."

I sent her a pic of a pink, high-cut, backless swimsuit. "Pretty good taste, right?" Cue the internal cringe—was I proud or just embarrassed?

Suddenly, she stopped replying. Wasn’t she the one who loved these dramatic swimsuits the most?

Carter, sitting in front of me, stiffly turned around and gave me a strange look. He seemed to be biting his lip, which was so not his usual icy demeanor.

Seriously, Carter? Chill. Dude, was that really necessary? Just because I wore mismatched shoes, did he have to stare at me like that? Or was he still mad I deleted him?

While I was puzzling over it, my mom finally replied.

"Sure."

"It’s a date, then!"

After class, the guy next to him suddenly blurted, "Why are your ears so red? You got a fever or something?"

At lunch, I went to the cafeteria with my roommates and took a pic of my barbecue chicken to send to my mom.

"Smells so good."

"If only I could have a Starbucks iced tea after this."

My mom didn’t reply. She was probably having lunch with my dad and missed the message.

The four of us were quietly eating when a Starbucks iced tea suddenly slid onto the table. I followed the hand holding the bag and looked up.

Carter, in a black hoodie and sports headphones, was looking down at me—his ears still red.

"For you."

He dropped the bag and walked off.

All four of us were stunned.

Brianna said, "He probably felt bad about how he spoke to you before, and after you deleted him, he wanted to make it up to you."

I ripped open the bag, stabbed the straw in, and took a huge gulp. Even if this was his apology, and he happened to buy exactly what I wanted, I wasn’t going to forgive him that easily!

I messaged my mom, "If someone treated me badly before, but now wants to apologize, should I forgive him?"

I added, "He’s super handsome and has a great body."

My mom replied instantly, "Of course not. Also, what’s this guy’s name? I’ll go teach him a lesson."

Yikes, Mom’s on the warpath.

I quickly tried to calm her down. "It’s nothing, don’t get mad."

My mom was getting weirder and weirder. I used to send her all sorts of random stuff, but she was always busy and would only reply to some of it. Lately, though, she seemed to have tons of free time—no matter what I sent, even just a punctuation mark, she’d ask what was up. Did she get a new phone or something?