The next morning, the city feels different, sharp and bright in the chilly autumn air. You wake with the memory of Beckett's voice echoing in your head, his uncertainty painting the edges of your dreams. Your phone blinks with new messages, but it's Jasper's that you notice first.
Jasper: Meet me by the quad after class? Got a plan. Promise it's fun.
You set your phone down, staring at the ceiling. A strange weight sits on your chest. You wonder if friendship is supposed to feel like walking a tightrope, balancing loyalty and longing, old and new.
Dakota's already halfway out the door, but she pauses long enough to grin at your still-wild hair. "You're scandalizing campus, Wells. Keep it up."
You smile, tugging a sweatshirt over your head, and slip off to class, laptop slung under one arm and last night's conversation still trailing in your mind.
Art studio is a blur of movement and color. Jasper is late, but when he finally arrives, he slides into the chair beside you and leans in, all radiant energy.
"You look like you've slept ten hours or not at all," he says, voice low. "That's the mark of a real artist."
You give a tired laugh. "Guess which."
Jasper puts his hand on your arm, casual but unhurried. "Come with me later. I found a rooftop on the architecture building. Best view on campus. You game?"
His attention is heady; you nod before you think about it.
Hannah jostles her way in, brandishing a new set of markers. "If you two elope before the mural's sketched, I'm reporting you both to Reyes."
You giggle, tucking a stray strand of green hair behind your ear. "Promise you'll be the first to know."
Priya catches your eye across the table, her expression unreadable. She doesn't say anything, just focuses on her sketch, and for a moment you wish you could crawl into her steadiness, escape the rollercoaster.
Jasper twirls a pencil between his fingers, watching your hands as you shade a quick study for the mural proposal. The hum of the studio settles around you, students lost in their own creative bubbles.
You pause, checking your phone again. The screen is blank, no new messages from Beckett. You bite your lip, glancing at the last text from the night before.
Jasper nudges your sketchbook. "You're distracted. My charm wearing off already?"
You shake your head, trying to smile. "Sorry. It's just… Beckett usually texts me in the morning. I haven't heard from him today."
There's an odd silence. Jasper's fingers still on the pencil, his smile a fraction too tight before he smooths it over.
"Football practice, maybe?" he says, voice a little flat. "He seems like the type to live on the field."
You try to let yourself laugh, but something about Jasper's tone catches you off guard. "No, he always checks in. It's just a habit."
Jasper leans back, posture a little more closed. "You two seem really close."
You shrug, brushing away a knot of worry. "He's my best friend. We've known each other since we were kids."
He offers a quick, practiced grin, his shoulders relaxing as if nothing happened. "Well, he'd have to be cool, right? Friend of yours and all. But you're here now. So, what do you think, blue for the background, or is that too safe?"
You glance at your sketchbook, feeling the air in the room change just slightly. Jasper's enthusiasm picks right back up, but every so often his gaze drifts to your phone as if daring it to light up.
You force your mind back to the mural, but there's a mild unease threading through the edges of your excitement, a sense that not everything is as lighthearted as it seems.
The lunch crowd is already spilling across the quad as you hurry down the hall, phone clutched in your hand. You spot Beckett, hair damp from a post-workout shower, gym bag over his shoulder, all muscle and restless energy, emerging from the weight room.
He stops when he sees you, a wary smile flickering over his features. "Hey," he says, but his voice is guarded, tentative.
You tug him by the elbow toward a patch of shade behind the building, out of the way of the steady stream of students. "You didn't text me this morning."
He blinks, surprised by the urgency in your words. "Yeah, I know. Sorry, I just… overslept after a late film session. Morning ran away on me."
You study his face. There are faint shadows under his eyes, and tension in the way he stands, like he's still waiting to be benched.
"It's weird, Beck. We always talk in the morning. I kept checking my phone. Are we good?" Your voice is gentle, uncertain.
Beckett lets out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. "We're good, Maren. Just… busy today. That happens, right?"
You step closer, not quite ready to let it go. "Beckett. If you're upset about something, just say it. I feel like you're pulling away and I don't want that."
He looks up at you, something raw and honest in his gaze. "I don't want that either. I just-" He hesitates, glancing over your head at the crowds. "I guess I don't always know what I am to you anymore. Not with Jasper around."
You stare at him, taken aback. "That's not fair."
He shrugs, the movement small, eyes flickering with frustration he tries to hide. "Maybe not. I'm not trying to be a jerk. I just… sometimes I feel like I'm not needed, you know? Like there's not room for me in your orbit if you've got someone new."
Your heart twists, guilt warring with defensiveness. "You're not replaceable, Beck. Why would you think that?"
He looks at his shoes, faltering. "Because lately… I don't know. I feel like I have to fight for space. And I'm not sure I'm winning."
You shake your head, reaching for his hand, feeling the familiar steadiness of him beneath the static. "You'll always matter. Maybe the most. But I need you to tell me when you feel left out, not just disappear into your routines."
"Okay." His voice is softer, almost vulnerable. "I'll try."
He squeezes your hand, the tension slowly easing, but neither of you lets go. For a moment, you simply stand there together in the quiet shade behind the building, holding on.
Without thinking, you step forward. Beckett meets you halfway. The hug just happens, natural and careful at first, then tightening. Your face finds his shoulder, and his arms lock solid around your back.
You feel his breath against your hair, the steady beat of his heart. The rest of the campus spins on, but you are both perfectly still.
He whispers, almost too low to hear, "I'm not trying to disappear, Mare.."
You hold him closer, words caught in your throat. "I know.."
It should have ended a second ago. But neither of you moves to break the embrace. Finally, Beckett eases his grip, his hand sliding down your arm with a lingering squeeze.
He's the first to pull back, eyes shining a little too bright. "I'll see you at lunch?"
You nod, unable to keep the softness from your face. "Yeah. See you soon, Beck."
He backs away, smiling, real this time and just a little unsteady, before fading into the flow of students.
You stand there for a long moment, hugging yourself, everything too big and too close to name.
The cafeteria is overflowing but you spot the group near the windows. You slide your tray down next to a gap and call, "Hey, can you scoot?"
Beckett's right behind you. Without thinking, you pat the bench to your immediate right.
He sinks down next to you, shoulders bumping as you both trade nervous smiles. On your left, Jasper grins around a mouthful of fries.
Hannah groans. "Don't let her pick the playlist again unless you want to hear neon pop for three hours."
Beckett nudges your arm. "She has a playlist for everything. Maren's the queen of color and soundtracks."
You shrug, grinning, "What can I say? Life's better in bright colors." You glance at Beckett, who's already unwrapping his sandwich. "What's the verdict? Did you pull something in weights today?"
He shakes his head, eyes twinkling. "No, but I thought I might after the fifth set. Marcus nearly dropped the barbell."
Jasper leans across, his voice upbeat. "Find a color for pain yet, Maren?" His eyes are on you, his smile playful. "Maybe neon blue? Or should we stick to green now that she's gone radioactive?"
You laugh. "I'll sketch something for the gym wall: the five stages of athletic regret."
Beckett laughs too, but before the sound can linger, Jasper taps your tray with his spoon. "Show us the new mural mockup? I bet it's wild if you did it last night."
You dig your phone from your pocket, opening the image. Jasper immediately leans in, closer than before, almost brushing your arm. He studies your screen, nodding. "This is killer. Did you pull that blend from the traffic lights or just your hair?"
Beckett tries to get a look, but Jasper slides your phone toward him. "She went full LA on this, right? I haven't seen anyone risk color like that here before."
Before you can answer, Priya pipes up, "We still need structure unless we want chaos. I swear, if you two take over, I'm not answering to Reyes."
Hannah giggles. "We can put a tiny Priya in a corner with a ruler, keeping watch."
Jasper flashes her a smile. "We couldn't survive without her logic." Then, turning back to you, dropping his voice just for you to hear: "I like wild. You should never hold back. Especially not for them."
You beam, feeling seen. "Glad you approve."
Beckett's fingers toy with his straw wrapper, gaze flashing between the two of you. He tries again, "Remember last year when Maren convinced the dining hall to use edible flowers on cake? She had the whole campus taking pictures for a week."
You laugh again, putting your hand on Beckett's forearm. "You still owe me for buying you extra slices."
Jasper interjects, smoothly: "She's an influencer and a trendsetter. Beckett, you keeping up?"
Beckett holds your gaze, smile thinning just a touch. "Trying my best."
Conversation spins on, loud, unfiltered, and bright. Jasper keeps looping you in, always with another question or joke, but it feels like natural interest, not competition. You're so busy trading stories that you barely notice Beckett's pauses.
"After lunch, we should get coffee and do roughs," Jasper says suddenly. "Priya, you in?"
Priya shrugs, "If I have time."
Beckett sets his fork down, clearing his throat. "You want me to bring any extra brushes from the storage locker later, Maren?"
You squeeze his hand, grateful. "Would you? That'd be perfect."
Jasper cocks his head, smiling with a tinge of mischief. "She's in high demand today, huh?"
Before you can respond, Hannah starts up about who's going to smuggle snacks into the library, and the table erupts in laughter.
Lunch ends in a blur. As you gather your tray, Beckett leans in. "You sure you're good?"
You nod, flashing him a real, steady smile. "Always."
Jasper's hand lands lightly on your back as you stand, steering you toward the coffee stand. You follow, already caught up in his plans for the afternoon, not even thinking about the gentle way Beckett's hand lingers on your shoulder as you leave.
After your last class, you catch Jasper waiting in the lobby, his hands in his pockets, eyes searching the crowded hallways until he finds you.
"There you are," he says, relieved. "Thought you'd gotten kidnapped by the sculpture club."
You laugh, slinging your bag over your shoulder. "No way, they're scared of the green hair."
Jasper grins, holding the door open. "Come on. Gotta show you something before everyone else figures it out."
He leads you through a back stairwell in the old architecture building. It smells faintly of chalk, dust, and possibility. "Secret shortcut," he says, tapping on the wall. "No one uses this except the desperate."
At the top, he shoves open a stubborn door and you step out into crisp, open air. The campus sprawls below in the slanting afternoon sunlight, red brick, golden trees, a blanket of students spread over the quad.
You gasp, caught off guard. "Whoa. This is… amazing."
Jasper's grin widens as he walks to the edge of the roof, leaning on the crumbly brick ledge. "Best view on campus, hands down. Good for big thinking."
You drop your bag and move beside him, the world open wide around you. Your hair whips in the wind.
"Picture this," Jasper says quietly. "Two months from now, our mural is done. People come up here just to see the colors change at sunset. You think you'll miss this when you're famous?"
You laugh, running your hands along the ledge. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I just want to paint something that feels honest. It's been a while since I felt that."
Jasper's gaze lingers. "You're honest. In your art. In everything. It's why you stand out."
You're unusually shy, caught off guard by the intensity in his voice. "You don't really know me that well."
"I want to," Jasper says, stepping a little closer, not crowding but making sure you feel it. "People pretend all the time. You don't."
You shrug, glancing at the campus stretching below. "Sometimes I wish I could blend in more."
He laughs. "No, you don't."
For a few heartbeats there's just the wind and your shared quiet. Then Jasper holds out his phone, opening the camera app. "Let's document this, proof we actually found something special before the rest of the world."
You roll your eyes, but he's already angling you toward the skyline. He snaps a photo, the sun flaring behind your green hair, both of you grinning at the horizon.
"That's the one," Jasper says, showing you the photo.
You try not to look too closely at how close he is, the thrill of new friendship, maybe more, coursing under your skin. "Don't post that or Hannah will accuse me of neglecting her."
Jasper laughs. "Deal. For now, it's just for us."
You stand side by side for another long minute, watching the light fade into gold. There's a strange, easy warmth in the air; for the first time in days, you stop worrying about Beckett, or what anyone expects from you.
For just this moment, you let yourself believe you might deserve being seen.