Dorian

Dorian woke to the sound of soft breathing and the weight of Amara curled against his chest. The dorm room was quiet. A blue-gray haze of early November light seeped softly through the blinds. The sun hadn’t fully risen yet, and everything outside looked cold, still, and half-asleep.

 He stared at the ceiling for a moment taking everything in, the warmth of her, the quiet rhythm of their breaths, the surreal fact that last night wasn’t a dream. He was really here. With her. 

He glanced down. She stirred slightly, then looked up at him with sleepy eyes.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Hey,” he said, brushing a curl off her forehead.

“You okay?”

She gave a small nod. “I think so.”

There was a pause.

“I meant what I said last night,” he said quietly. “You’re not breakable. . . but you are worth protecting.” 

She looked at him for a long moment. She was quiet, but not because she was startled or doubtful. It was like she was letting the words settle somewhere deep inside herself where she didn’t usually let people reach.

“I don’t care how long it takes. . . I want to be with you. For real.”

That earned the softest smile from her. 

They laid there and talked for a while, just enjoying each other's company. They talked about little things like how fast the semester was flying by, and laughed over the random things they missed from home. They shared their favorite songs to listen to when they couldn’t sleep. Then, slowly, the conversation drifted.

“I was thinking,” Dorian said, propping himself up on his elbow so he could see her better. “Winter break’s coming up. . .”

She nodded in response.

“I’d like to see you during it. Maybe spend New Year’s together.”

Amara’s brows raised. “New Year’s?”

“Yeah. I mean, only if you want. I thought maybe we could catch fireworks downtown, get food, just. . . spend it together. Start the year right.” He smiled. “I’ve never had anyone to really do that with, and I really want to do that with you.”

She looked down, a small smile tugging at her lips as she played with the strings on his hoodie, suddenly shy, but clearly touched.

“I don’t know,” she said, twirling the string around her finger. “It sounds nice. I just. . . need to think on it.”

“Of course,” he said quickly. “No pressure.”

She nodded, biting her lip, that usual mix of shyness and honesty written all over her face.

He checked the time. Shit.

“I should head back,” he muttered. “Before someone sees me leaving.”

She smirked. “You afraid of getting written up?”

“No, but I’m not trying to give the RAs a reason to send an email to my mom.”

He got himself together fast, pulling on his shoes and checking his phone as he shoved it into his pocket. He started down the hall — then paused, turned, and doubled back. 

Before she could shut the door completely, he slipped through the crack and kissed her. Quick, but soft, right on the lips. 

“Think about New Year’s, okay?” he said, his voice low, lingering for a second before he turned and dashed off down the hall.

***

The cold bit at his face as he crossed campus, the hoodie barely enough to block the wind. It took him a second to realize why; he'd left his bomber jacket in Amara’s room. He’d grab it later. Still, the chill didn’t bother him much. Not with the way he was replaying that kiss in his head. The way she looked at him just before he left. 

He hadn’t even made it a full block and he was already smiling again. 

But the feeling didn’t last long. 

Because as quickly as Amara filled his mind, something else edged in. 

Constanza. 

There was no mistaking that that was her he had seen last night. She’d walked right into the party, hand-in-hand with someone Dorian recognized instantly. 

Cox. 

Melanie fucking Cox. 

He remembered Cox from back when his sister, Nancy, was still at Trinity. She used to drag him to soccer games whenever he visited, and even he had to admit, Cox could play. She was fast, aggressive, and smart with the ball. She stood out on the field, always did. 

But off the field? That was a different story. 

Nancy never said much directly, but it was clear she didn’t care for her much, especially after one of her close friends ended up heartbroken over Cox. “She’s the kind of girl who knows exactly how good she looks and exactly how much people want her,” Nancy once muttered after a game. “She’ll flirt with you, make you feel like the only one, and have three other girls thinking the same thing.” 

She was popular and well liked, but Dorian had heard enough to know she’d left more than a few girls heartbroken. Always some new name, some falling out, some drama with the same on-again off-again girl. Lyric, if he remembered right. 

And now. . . Constanza was walking into parties hand-in-hand with her? 

But what got under his skin most wasn’t Cox, it was Constanza. 

Of all people, she chooses Cox? He just couldn't wrap his head around it. 

Meanwhile, David was still stuck wondering if he ever even stood a chance, losing sleep over whether she liked him back, while she ran around with the most emotionally unavailable girl on campus instead of just telling him the truth.

Dorian sighed, dragging his hand down his face.

He wasn’t going to tell him. David had enough on his plate. He didn’t need this too.

*** 

Later that afternoon, Dorian swung by David’s dorm, practically buzzing to talk. 

“I gotta tell you about last night,” he said the moment the door opened. 

But before he could launch into it, he noticed the grin on David’s face. 

“Wassup?” David grinned, Gatorade bottle in hand.  

Dorian stepped inside, catching the light in his expression. The smile. The relaxed shoulders. It had been a while since he’d seen that look on his best friend’s face. And for a second, it made him smile, too. 

“Nah, wassup with you?” Dorian asked, taking a seat at the foot of David’s bed. “What’s got you grinning so hard?” 

David tried to play it off. “Nothing much. You said you needed to talk. Everything went ok on your date with Amara? 

Dorian raised a brow. “Yeah, yeah, she and I are just getting to know each other. But come on, man. . . I haven’t seen you smile like this since you pulled out that old ass Connect 4 game that one time.” 

David laughed. “Back when you told me to put it back in the box and go sit down?” 

“That’s the one.” 

They both chuckled at the memory, the room feeling light with that old, familiar rhythm between them. 

“But seriously,” Dorian said, “We haven’t caught up in a minute.” 

David unlocked his phone, tapped into his messages, and slid it across the desk toward him. 

Dorian leaned forward and skimmed the thread, nodding. “Okay, okay. . .” 

David was trying to play it cool, but the corners of his mouth kept tugging up. 

Dorian kept scrolling. “I see y’all kept it PG,” he teased, then glanced up at the contact name, but it was just a gold heart and a green heart. He smirked. “So who is this mystery girl?” He snapped his fingers. “Is it the one from your Econ class, with the long braids? What was her name, Andrea or something like that?” 

“Huh?” David shook his head. “Nah. It’s Constanza. I thought that would be obvious.” 

Dorian’s smile faltered. His fingers froze just slightly as he slid the phone back. “Oh.” He sat up, forcing his tone to stay even. “When did y’all start talking like that?” 

David shrugged. “We’ve texted a few times since that group dinner. Nothing serious. But late last night she hit me up saying she really wanted to see me. I didn’t see the text until this morning, though.” 

Dorian’s chest tightened with concern. He’d seen the way Constanza moved. He knew what she was up to last night. 

David must’ve sensed the change in his expression. “What?” he asked slowly. “You got that look.” 

Dorian exhaled, rubbing his palms on his jeans. “Look, man. . .  are you sure you want to deal with her like that?” 

David frowned. “What do you mean?” 

“I’m just saying, her signals are all over the place,” Dorian said carefully. “She goes quiet, then texts you out the blue. One minute y’all are just friends, the next she’s inviting you to lunch. I don’t want to see you caught up in something confusing.” 

David’s face shifted, but not in the way Dorian hoped. He didn’t look defensive, he just looked hopeful. 

“I get it,” David said. “But maybe this is her trying to show her interest. I don’t know. . . it just feels different this time.” 

Dorian opened his mouth, ready to say it. Ready to tell him what he saw last night. But before he could form the words, David stood and crossed the room to his closet. 

“Okay, now be real with me,” he said, holding up two options. “Grey Nike hoodie or orange and black flannel?” 

Dorian hesitated. He watched the excitement in David’s eyes. And just like that, the window for him to tell him about Constanza was gone. 

He forced a smile. “The flannel.” 

David nodded, already slipping it off the hanger. 

And Dorian just sat there. . . quietly swallowing everything he wanted to say.

***

That night, Dorian lay on his bed, phone pressed to his ear. Amara’s voice made everything else fade out.

“I’ve been thinking about your plans,” she said. “For winter break.”

“Yeah?”

She hesitated, then gave a soft yes. “Let’s do it. Fireworks and all.”

His grin stretched ear to ear.

They talked for a bit longer about their class schedules, what time they’d meet in the dining hall the next day, and how they were both terrible at morning alarms.

After they hung up, he laid there, staring at the ceiling, still smiling.

Until his phone buzzed with a text.

David: Lunch went great today. She said we could try taking things slow.

See you in class tomorrow.

The smile dropped.

He read the message again. Then again.

His chest began to tightened again. And before he could stop himself, he was grabbing his hoodie and heading back out.

***

  Constanza opened the door halfway, eyebrows pulling together in confusion as she looked up at him. “Dorian?”

He jerked his chin toward the hallway. “We need to talk.” 

“Okay. . .” she muttered, still confused, as she slipped on a pair of sweatpants and pulled a zip-up jacket off the back of her chair.

She stepped out and shut the door behind her.

“What’s going on?” she asked, brow furrowed.

Dorian put his hand against the wall behind her. “What type of game are you playing?”

Her confusion deepened. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

His jaw tightened. “Be for real, Constanza.”

His voice had risen loud enough to make her flinch.

He took a breath, then lowered it. “I saw you last night at the party. You were going upstairs with Cox.”

Her eyes widened, horrified. “I —I didn’t. Nothing happ—”

He held up a hand to stop her mid-sentence. “Save it.”

“If you want to run around and play games, go ahead. But don’t fuck with my friend’s head in the process. He’s got enough to deal with already.”

The door across the hall creaked open. A girl in a purple silk bonnet poked her head out, clearly annoyed.

“Uh uh. . . not y’all out here having a lovers’ quarrel at 11 at night. Take that somewhere else.”

She rolled her eyes and slammed the door shut.

Dorian turned back to Constanza.

“Like I said,” he continued, voice lower and colder now. “Don’t play with his head.”

He looked her up and down. “Matter of fact, just stay away from him.”

He turned to walk away, but paused halfway down the hall.

He looked back once more. “Of all people, Cox? No good is gonna come from that.”

He shook his head, then he disappeared around the corner leaving Constanza there frozen, her back pressed to the wall.

***

Dorian was speed-walking across the courtyard when his phone rang.

Zoie.

For a moment, he froze. He hadn’t spoken to her in a while. Hadn’t even thought about her much lately, not with everything going on between him and Amara. . . and now Constanza.

But her name on his screen sent a chill down his back.

He wiped his palms on his sweats and answered.

“Hey, Zo. Wassup?”

The silence was heavy. Then he heard it, soft crying, trying to be quiet and failing.

His stomach sank. “Zoie?”

She was struggling to speak.

“Did you know?” she finally whispered. Her voice cracked with every syllable. “Were you all just laughing at me?” 

His footsteps slowed to a stop, right there in the middle of the courtyard. 

He couldn’t answer. 

Not because he didn’t care, but because there were too many versions of the truth. Too many things he should’ve said over a week ago. About Ryin. About Tony. About all the shit he thought staying quiet might prevent. 

But now? 

Now Zoie was on the other end of the line, crying like her whole world had fallen apart. . . and he didn’t even know how to begin to help piece it back together for her. 

Did you know? 

That question echoed louder than anything she’d said. 

His grip on the phone tightened. 

He thought silence had been safer. That letting things play out would hurt less than dragging people into things they weren’t ready for. But maybe that was just fear talking. Maybe that was him choosing the easy way out. Maybe being a good friend wasn’t just about being there when people fell apart. Maybe it was about speaking up before they got broken in the first place. 

His throat tightened. 

And as Zoie wept on the other end of the line, Dorian wondered if his silence had protected anyone at all. . . Or if it had only made him part of the problem. 

If I were a better friend, he thought, maybe none of this would’ve happened like this.