Dorian

Dorian read the text three times before letting himself breathe. 

Amara: I’d like that, too.

Just four words.

But after the weekend of silence, it felt like a beginning.

He leaned back on his dorm bed, phone resting on his chest, the overhead light off, the glow of his desk lamp spilling across the floor. His roommate was still out. Probably with his girlfriend and not coming back tonight.

The quiet felt earned.

He hadn’t expected her to respond. Not over a day later. He figured maybe she’d changed her mind, or maybe she was just being polite that night at dinner. But then the message came through, so simple and honest.

It felt like the opposite of everything Ryin had ever said.

He sat up, propped his elbows on his knees, and looked out the window. From the second floor, he could see the glow of the campus library and a handful of students cutting across the lawn with backpacks and headphones. That quiet Sunday-to-Monday reset was still lingering in the air.

He picked up his phone again and typed:

Dinner again this week? Just us this time.

He stared at it for maybe a full minute.

Then hit send.

There was no rush of adrenaline. No panic. No fear.

Just the steady beat of his heart, excited about something good. Something new.

His phone buzzed almost immediately.

Amara: Sure, just let me know when.

He stared at her message. There was no overthinking. No double meanings. And after the way things had ended with Ryin—the silence, the lies, the betrayal—this felt like learning a new language. One where honesty didn’t come with unreasonable conditions.

He typed back: Saturday? I’ll come to you.

Amara: See you Saturday😊

Dorian’s heart did somersaults when he saw she sent a smiley emoji with smiling eyes. That means she’s excited, right? He thought to himself. Then he tossed his phone on the bed and leaned back, eyes closed. He smiled to himself, looking forward to Saturday.

***

It was the kind of day that made Dorian forget, just for a little while, how heavy the semester had started to feel. The sun was still out, casting long golden slants through the dining hall windows, and he and David were tucked in a booth near the back, picking at a plate of apple slices, peanut butter cups, and trail mix.

He wasn’t even pretending to focus on homework. Not when he had a date set for tomorrow. Not when Amara had said yes.

“I did it,” Dorian said, chewing on a piece of apple.

David looked up from his water bottle, face blank. “Did what?”

Dorian grinned. “I asked Amara out last night. Like, officially. Just us. This weekend.”

It took a second, but David’s mouth quirked. “You actually followed through, I’m proud of you.”

“Thank ya, thank ya.”

David nodded once, but the smile didn’t stick. He looked back down at his notebook, shoulders hunched like the weight of the world was trying to fold him in half.

“You good?” Dorian asked, tone softening.

David let out a tired breath and dragged a hand over his hair. “I thought this scholarship — this whole ‘free ride’ thing — was gonna give me some kind of freedom. You know? Finally prove something to my dad. Like, I got it. I made it. But it’s like none of that even matters.”

Dorian stayed quiet, listening.

“He still finds a way to tell me it’s not enough. That I’m not doing enough. I’m in here busting my ass, trying to stay on top of grades, networking, building a future he thinks I should want. And it still feels like I’m chasing something I can’t catch.”

Dorian leaned back in the booth, arms crossed, trying to find the right words.

David wasn’t done.

“And Constanza. . . ” he said, voice lower now. “I keep trying. Dropping hints. Hoping she’ll notice. Hoping she’ll. . . I don’t know, feel something too. But lately, it’s like she’s pulling away. Like she’s decided we’re just friends and she’s sticking to that script, no matter what I say or do.” He gave a hollow laugh, barely audible. “I know it’s dumb. I should just let it go.” 

“It’s not dumb,” Dorian said. “Wanting someone to like you back? That’s not dumb.”

David didn’t respond. Just stared down at the table like it had the answers he was missing.

Dorian felt a strange knot form in his chest. Guilt, maybe. Or something adjacent. Here he was, riding the high of a smiley emoji and a dinner date, while his best friend sat across from him quietly unraveling.

He wished he could trade him even a piece of the joy he was feeling. But some things, you couldn’t pass off. Not even to the people who deserved it most.

He was about to say more when his phone buzzed against the table.

It was Zoie.

His body went still.

David noticed immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Zoie,” Dorian muttered.

David's eyes widened. “You gonna answer?”

“I don’t know.”

He stared at the name, heart thumping now.

It hadn’t even been a full week yet. The breakup with Ryin was final, but Zoie hadn't reached out or anything. Really, he didn't expect her to. He was sure Ryin didn’t tell her anything and if she did it was probably far from the truth. And he still hadn’t decided on how he was going to tell Zoie what he had uncovered about her so-called best friend and boyfriend. But seeing her name pop up now—on a Tuesday afternoon, while he was eating snacks with his best friend and trying to hold onto something good in his life—hit like a cold slap.

He tapped the answer button and brought the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Zoie said. Her voice was soft and hesitant. “You got a second?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“I just. . .” She trailed off. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About everything. Mostly about how things ended between you and Ryin.”

Dorian leaned forward, pressing his fingers into his temple. “Okay. . .”

“I feel bad,” she said. “I didn’t know what to say then, or how you were feeling, so that’s why I didn’t call. I do know you didn’t deserve any of it, and I told Ry you deserve an apology.”

Dorian swallowed hard, the weight in his chest growing. “It’s done. I’m past it.”

“I just wanted to check on you,” she said, almost in a whisper. “You doing okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said automatically. Then, softer, “Just focusing on school. Trying to move forward.”

“Good,” she murmured. “You deserve good things, Dor.”

He could hear something in her voice. Something tight and tucked away. Like whatever she was feeling wasn’t meant to be said out loud.

“You sound off,” he said. “Everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” she replied, too quickly.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Just. . . been a weird couple of days.”

“Zoie.”

“I’m okay,” she said again. “Really.”

He didn’t believe her, but he didn’t push.

Then came the question he hadn’t been expecting.

“Have you talked to Ryin?”

Dorian stiffened. “No,” he said flatly. “Not since the morning we broke up. And honestly? I never want to speak to her again.”

Another beat of silence.

“I get that,” Zoie said quietly. “I do.”

Dorian looked out the window, jaw tight.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked one more time, guilt forming in his stomach.

“I am,” she said, though her voice wavered. “It was just. . . nice hearing your voice. That’s all.”

“Yeah. You, too.”

“Bye, Dor.”

“Bye.” He hung up and stared at the phone for a second, letting out a slow breath.

David was watching him. “What’d she say?”

“She was checking in. Felt bad about how everything ended between me and Ryin,” Dorian said, still processing. “But she sounded. . . off. Like something was bothering her.”

“You think she knows?” David asked, voice low. “About Ryin and Tony?”

Dorian didn’t answer right away.

But the knot in his stomach twisted tighter.

“I don’t know,” he muttered. “But if she does. . .” Dorian didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to.

Because they both knew: if Zoie knew the truth, the fallout hadn’t even started yet.