Damien
She's back.
Not entirely. Not the cling-on-my-arm, chatter-your-ears-off, smile-like-it's-sunny girl I'm used to.
But she's here.
And she's holding out a lunchbox like it's a peace offering wrapped in pastel pink.
"Hi," she says, eyes refusing to meet mine. "I, um, made this."
It's got her handwriting on the lid. "For D. Eat. Or else."
I try not to smile. I fail.
"You made me lunch?"
She shrugs like she's not already scanning my face for approval. "Just... thought you might skip. Again."
I raise a brow. "You were mad at me yesterday."
She shrugs again. "I still care if you starve."
I open the box. There's a sandwich, cut diagonally the way she always does hers. Fruit, sliced and sorted by color. And a tiny post-it stuck under the lid that reads: "Don't be dramatic. You're not allowed to faint from hunger in anatomy."
My chest does this weird tightening thing.
"You're back to sweet coffee," I say casually, nodding at her cup.
She hesitates. "I lied. I missed the sugar."
"You missed me more."
She nearly chokes on her first sip.
I smirk, taking a bite of the sandwich. "Don't pretend you didn't. Your silence was unnerving."
She huffs. "You didn't even notice until I stopped bringing coffee."
"Wrong," I reply, swallowing. "I noticed. I just didn't know how to fix it."
She stares at me, fingers toying with her straw. "And now?"
"Now," I say, leaning back against the bench, "I'm letting you fix it."
She glares at me. "I am fixing it."
"I know." I glance at the post-it again, then at her. "And I'm not sharing this sandwich."
Her lips twitch. "It's literally your favorite. I knew you wouldn't."
"Then why even pretend it's not a bribe?"
"It is a bribe."
We sit in comfortable silence for a moment. The campus buzzes around us, but she's the only thing I can focus on.
I've missed this. Missed her.
Even her noise. Especially her noise.
"I like the pink nail polish," I say suddenly.
She blinks. Looks down at her hands like she forgot they exist.
Then she grins.
"You're impossible," she says.
"No," I answer quietly. "You just make me soft."
And judging by the way her cheeks flush and she suddenly hides behind her coffee cup, maybe—just maybe—I'm not the only one falling.