Constanza

Trinity University’s campus always felt different on Sundays, especially the Sunday after a break. There was this weird in-between energy, like the campus hadn’t quite woken back up. Students were rolling suitcases across sidewalks, hugging parents in parking lots, and shuffling into dorms like sleep-deprived zombies. Constanza didn’t mind the chaos. She liked watching everything snap back into place. 

She and Amara had just left Amara’s dorm room on the quiet east side of campus and were cutting across the quad toward Constanza's building.

“So. . .” Constanza said casually, sipping her latte. “Are we going to talk about it?”

Amara didn’t even look up. “Nope.”

“Not even a little?”

“Nope.”

Constanza stopped walking and gave her a long, exaggerated stare. “You didn’t text him back.”

Amara exhaled. “No, I didn’t.”

“It’s been two days.”

“I know.”

“He texted you Friday night.”

“I remember.”

“And now it’s Sunday.”

“I’m aware.”

Constanza groaned. “Why are you like this?”

Amara shrugged. “It didn’t feel like the right time. And then it got awkward. And now it feels too late.”

“You really think he forgot about you? Please. Text him. Pop back in like, ‘Sorry I went ghost. . . but you’re still fine, and I still got a little crush.’ He’d eat that up — trust me.”

Amara groaned, hiding her face behind her hands. “Ugh, I’d rather melt into the floor. What if he turns around and leaves me on read this time? I’d have to change my name.”

They kept walking; Autumn leaves crunching under their boots. A guy jogged past, dragging a suitcase behind him. Someone shouted across the lawn about who had the biggest leftover plate.

“Good thing you’ve got me,” Constanza said with a smirk. “I may not have it all together, but I know when someone’s worth it.”

“Do you now?”

“I do. Which is why I’m orchestrating dinner.”

Amara’s groan this time was louder, but Constanza only grinned wider.

***

Dinner was at a laid-back spot just off campus with brick walls, warm lighting, and fries that always tasted better when shared with friends. Dorian and David were already there when the girls arrived, seated near the back in a booth with a view of the street. 

Constanza didn’t miss the way Amara paused — just slightly — before sitting across from Dorian. And she didn’t miss the way Dorian’s face lit up when he saw her. It wasn’t loud or obvious. But she caught it. 

David stood to greet Constanza with a playful smirk and that pristine, too-perfect smile he always seemed to wear like a tailored suit. He stood and bowed his head with one hand behind his back and the other motioning towards the booth seat across from him. “Milady,” he quietly said during his bow. She rolled her eyes, smiling anyway.

They ordered food. Conversation flowed easily. Dorian made Amara laugh once—then again. And again. It was like watching something unfold in real time. The way Amara kept brushing her hair behind her ear. The way Dorian leaned in just slightly every time she spoke. 

Constanza sipped her soda, silently proud of herself. Mission: soft-launch-date-with-training-wheels?

Success.

But somewhere between fries and flirty glances, she noticed something else. David had always been smooth. But tonight? He was warmer. More present. His comments edged into teasing territory. Compliments cloaked in sarcasm, casual touches that lingered an extra beat. And when she laughed at one of his jokes, he smiled at her like he was already hers. He was cute. Very cute. That skin, that cologne, that “I ironed this shirt just for you” look. He checked all the boxes—tall, smart, well-mannered, and handsome. She should’ve been melting. So why wasn’t she? 

***

Later, walking back to campus, the four of them took the long route through the quad. Streetlights cast golden halos on the pavement. The night air carried a crispness that hinted at falling leaves and unspoken feelings. David walked beside Constanza, hands in his pockets, telling a story about falling asleep in a lecture and dreaming he was still in class. She laughed—genuinely—and even nudged him with her elbow. But part of her was somewhere else. Still at the booth. Still watching the way Amara kept smiling without realizing it. And still wondering if David’s hand had almost brushed hers on purpose—or if she’d imagined it. 

As they reached the path to her dorm, David strolled a few steps ahead, then turned and began walking backward—his eyes finding hers, a warm smile spreading across his face like he couldn’t help it. "You know," he said, voice low and teasing, "you laugh way too easily at my jokes. I’m starting to think you’ve got a crush."

Constanza scoffed, eyes narrowing with a grin. “A crush? Please. I’m just generous with my pity laughs.” 

David clutched his chest like he’d been wounded. “Ouch. That’s cold. Even for you.” Then he spun around and fell into step beside her, adjusting his long stride to match hers—close enough that she could feel his warmth, even with the way he towered over her. She didn’t look up, but she felt it—the ease, the quiet rhythm of walking next to him. It settled over her like something familiar.

“Don’t blame me. That dream-in-class story was weak,” she teased. “I give it a 6 out of 10. Maybe a 7 for the delivery.” 

“I was being vulnerable. You’re supposed to reward honesty.” 

“You told me you drooled on your desk, David.” 

“I said what I said,” he replied with a proud shrug. “Confidence is attractive.” 

That made her laugh again, because it was true, and because he knew how to deliver a line just right. 

He smiled at her, soft and genuine this time. “It’s nice talking to you like this. You’ve got a good vibe, you know?” 

“A good vibe?” she echoed with a smirk. 

“Yeah. Smart, sarcastic, sassy when necessary. . . it’s cute.”

Constanza blinked.

The air between them shifted—not heavy, but different. He meant it. She should’ve felt something spark. A flutter. A skip in her step. Something. Instead, her laugh this time came quieter. Not forced. Not fake. Just. . . quiet. 

“Thanks,” she said, her voice dipping softer than before. “You’re kind of a handful, but I guess you’re alright, too.”

He grinned. “You guess?”

They stopped in front of her building. On the third floor, candlelight flickered faintly behind the sheer pink curtains. Her roommate was in. Constanza wrapped her arms around herself, more from instinct than chill. 

“Well. . . this is me.” 

David rocked back on his heels. “This was fun.” 

“Yeah. It was.” She didn’t say more. She didn’t offer a hug or drag the moment out. 

Her chest tightened. Not with butterflies, but with a soft, sinking pressure that made it hard to tell if she was holding her breath or her feelings. A knowing she didn’t want to name yet. David really was everything a girl should want. She wanted to want him. But where the spark should’ve been, there was a quiet hum instead. It was soft, steady, and somehow not enough. As she reached for the door, she gave him one last smile. Not forced. Not fake. But not the kind that lingered either. And as she pulled on the handle to her building, Constanza realized she didn’t know if she was walking toward something new. . . or slowly letting go of something that never really started.