Chapter 3: Terms I Didn’t Choose

General education classes were always packed—stadium seating, rows of glowing laptops, the projector humming while the professor droned through a slideshow. So it surprised me when Natalie plopped down next to me, perfume cutting through dry-erase and coffee. She leaned her chin on her hand and looked me up and down. My ears heated; my pen tapped too fast against my notebook as I tried to look unfazed.

Suddenly she leaned in, voice low:

“Caleb, why didn’t you accept Aubrey’s IG request?”

I’d been busy sulking, but her question snapped me out of it. She was just running errands for her roommate, not really thinking about me.

“Didn’t see it,” I mumbled, thumbing my phone.

“Yeah right,” she said, and without warning, she grabbed my phone and unlocked it. She could do that because I’d added her fingerprint back when we were closer—freshman year when we were swapping playlists and I told her it was cool. Consent back then didn’t magically mean now.

“Natalie, what are you doing?”

She turned the screen toward me, showing Aubrey’s request. “So what’s this then?”

I was caught. She grinned, proud.

“I accepted for you, okay? Don’t mess it up. Aubrey’s cute—you two should hit it off,” she said, bubbly, like she was setting up her favorite rom-com. I snatched my phone back, irritation flaring.

“Natalie, quit making my choices for me.”

She rolled her eyes, amused smirk flickering.

“How am I making choices? I’m just helping you find someone. You know how your dad keeps joking we should just get married? That’s not happening!” Half-laugh, half-serious, and it stung because I remembered my dad’s corny cookout jokes too.

Before I could say anything, she waved frantically at someone behind me.

I turned. Aubrey, the birthday girl, was walking over, wearing a pink plaid skirt that looked thrifted, platform sneakers, and two ponytails—cosplay-lite cute, but campus-normal. She stopped by our row, voice soft:

“Hey, could you scoot over?”

I remembered months back when Natalie asked me what kind of girls I liked. She had that natural magnetism—those almond-shaped eyes, the kind of confidence that filled any room—but I’d joked I liked cute girls, straight out of an anime. This was exactly that—exactly what I’d described.

I hesitated, not moving. Natalie tugged me over, nearly knocking me into her lap. I jerked upright, cheeks blazing, heart thundering.

Aubrey smiled shyly, eyes darting away.

“Caleb, hi, I’m Aubrey.”

I kept silent, guarding myself.

Natalie elbowed me.

“Caleb, don’t be rude—my friend’s talking to you.”

“I don’t talk during class,” I said, staring hard at the board. It wasn’t just stubborn; I was sick of being steered into moments I wasn’t choosing.

Natalie shot me a text: “Don’t be cold 🙄 Aubrey’s getting embarrassed.”

Me: “Quit meddling—this is so forced.”

Natalie: “Didn’t you say you like cute girls? Aubrey’s perfect.”

I ignored her, keeping my head down until the bell rang. After class, I bolted for the door, trying to avoid any more staged awkwardness. But Natalie was waiting by the exit, arms crossed, blocking my path.

I remembered my promise—if Natalie set me up again, I’d say yes.

“So you really want me and Aubrey together?”

Natalie hesitated, then nodded.

“Of course—she’s my best friend.”

“Alright. I get it.” I exhaled, finally, and nodded.

I figured maybe it was time to stop chasing what wasn’t meant to be—whether I was ready for the fallout or not.