Chapter 2: The Rescue and the Rabbit

But who would've thought, the next day, the big troublemaker Tanya called and gave me an order.

She FaceTimed me while I was deep in my blankets, demanding I fix her latest crisis. Tanya’s emergencies are always immediate, always dramatic.

"Bring back my Spider-Man blanket."

She said it like it was a national emergency. I groaned, still half-asleep, wishing I could just send her a meme instead.

"Can't you wait for your boyfriend to bring it back when he returns to the apartment, or I can just buy you a new one!"

I tried bargaining, hoping she’d cave, but Tanya is relentless. No substitute for her Spider-Man blanket. Apparently, sentimental value beats Amazon Prime shipping.

"No, that's the Halloween gift Marcus bought for me not long ago, hurry up!"

She sounded like she’d lost her winning lottery ticket. I rolled out of bed, resigned to fate.

Are you guys crazy?

I mentally calculated how many times I’d played errand girl this semester. Still, Tanya’s drama always wins. I sighed, slipped on my sneakers, and grabbed my phone.

I really wanted to complain, but still braced myself to go find someone.

Each step felt like trudging through a swamp of embarrassment. I tried not to overthink it, but my anxiety was tap dancing in my chest.

Every step was tough.

I climbed the stairs, rehearsing apologies in my head. The hallways smelled faintly of popcorn and gym socks. Not the vibe for heroic blanket retrieval.

Arriving at the guys' apartment building, I found the target floor—didn't even ask for the room number.

I’d hoped someone would be around to save me from awkwardness, but no such luck. I just wandered until something familiar caught my eye.

Because when I looked up, on the clothes rack outside the third room on the fourth floor, I saw the Spider-Man blanket.

There it was, flapping like a surrender flag. I snatched it, praying I wouldn’t run into anyone, especially not Caleb.

Spider-Man had lost its glow.

The red looked faded, as if it too had been through one too many roommate dramas. The blanket slipped from my grip for a second, sending lint flurries into the air before I hugged it close like the least heroic Avenger.

Holding onto a sliver of hope, I prayed the person opening the door wouldn't be Caleb.

I made deals with the universe: just let it be anyone else. Maybe Ben, Marcus, even a random stranger. Anyone but him.

But the more you don't want something, the more it happens.

Murphy’s Law was in full effect. My heart dropped as footsteps approached, the doorknob twisted, and—bam—the door swung open.

The door opened.

He stood there, mouth twitching, looking like he was torn between laughing and groaning. I froze, clutching the blanket, feeling exposed.

In my shocked, dumbfounded state, I saw his mouth twitch.

I must’ve looked like a deer caught in headlights, blanket squeezed so tight my knuckles went white.

"What's up?"

His voice was casual—wry, even—with a little smirk. I stammered, trying to muster a normal greeting, but my brain short-circuited.

Just as I was about to reply, a bleach-blond head popped out from inside, startling me.

Ben, Caleb’s roommate, burst out of the room like he was auditioning for a sitcom. His hair looked like he’d run a hand through a bag of Cheetos.

It was Caleb's roommate.

He grinned, eyes lighting up with mischief. Ben was the resident instigator, the guy who collected campus gossip like trading cards.

He saw me, eyes shining, excited like a gossip lover spotting the main character, enthusiastically ushered me in.

He waved me inside, all but dragging me over the threshold. I barely had time to protest before I found myself plopped on a beanbag.

Well, better than standing at the door attracting attention.

Anything to avoid a hallway audience. I tucked the blanket under my arm and tried to look casual, which isn’t easy when you’re sweating through your hoodie.

The blond guy kindly took the blanket off the rack and handed me a bottle of spring water.

He grabbed the blanket from the rack and tossed me a Smartwater like a peace offering, then sat back, arms folded, clearly eager to see the drama unfold.

I took it, started unscrewing the cap, and tried not to look at Caleb.

My fingers fumbled with the bottle. I focused on the label, pretending I was too parched to notice the tension in the room.

But I could feel him watching me, wanting to speak but holding back, very ambiguous.

Every nerve in my body buzzed. I caught Caleb’s gaze a couple times—he looked ready to say something, but then just raised an eyebrow and kept silent.

I gulped down the water, planning to apologize first.

Mid-sip, I braced myself, hoping to smooth things over. My apology was ready, but before I could open my mouth, things went sideways. Of course I did that.

Unexpectedly—

Ben piped up, curiosity burning bright. Caleb’s eyes narrowed, and the question hit before I could duck.

"Was that foot-washing water that day?"

"Was that mop bucket water that day?" he blurted, and I couldn’t even process it before chaos struck.

I couldn't hold it in and sprayed water all over him.

My mouth dropped open, and before I could stop myself, I snorted water everywhere—Ben, the couch, the carpet, even a splash on Caleb’s sleeve. Pure chaos.

The blond guy couldn't hold it either and choked on his saliva.

He started coughing, face red, eyes watering with laughter. The whole scene was a mess of giggles and spluttering.

Caleb wiped his face, took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, his gaze was even colder.

He wiped his sleeve with a half-smile and an eye roll, clearly deploying dry sarcasm to keep himself likable despite the irritation.

He pulled on a shirt, speaking coldly: "What do you mean?"

His tone was ice-cold, but underneath, I could sense a hint of playful frustration. It was almost impressive how calm he was after everything.

......

"Did you deliberately spray me so I couldn't get dressed?"

He deadpanned it with another eye roll and the barest tug of a smile, which somehow made the accusation less terrifying and more… teasing.

I did not!

I tried to defend myself, but my voice came out like a squeak. Ben’s snort of laughter echoed in the background.

Ah......

If mortification were an Olympic event, I’d have won gold. I wanted to dissolve into the carpet.

Now I finally understand—I'm not missing water in my birth chart, I'm missing brains.

I covered my face, muffling a groan as Ben raised his bottle like a toast to my misfortune. At least someone was entertained. I smiled weakly.

Luckily, blond-haired Ben helped me out, so I wasn't kicked out.

He patted my shoulder, made a joke, and distracted Caleb with swim team banter. I relaxed, grateful for the save.

Ben said they were about to go for evening training, and enthusiastically invited me to visit the swimming pool.

"Meeting is fate! Roommate of Marcus's girlfriend is one of us, this little benefit is yours," he said, hyping me like I was getting VIP access to the Aquatic Center.

"Meeting is fate! Roommate of Marcus's girlfriend is one of us, this little benefit is yours."

He sounded like a game show host, winking as he handed me a swim team sticker. I pretended to be excited.

After speaking, he got elbowed by Caleb.

Caleb shot Ben a look that could freeze water. Ben just shrugged, unbothered.

I sneaked a glance at Caleb, thinking he'd refuse.

I expected a brush-off or an excuse, but instead, Caleb sized me up, lips twitching in amusement.

Unexpectedly, he gave me a look, signaling me to carry the sports bag and follow.

He pointed to a blue duffel bag by the door, then jerked his chin toward the hallway. I realized he was letting me tag along, not just for the blanket, but for penance.

Maybe he wanted me to be the errand girl to make up for my mistake.

I grabbed the bag, slinging it over my shoulder. My cheeks burned, but I felt weirdly honored. Maybe I could fix my reputation yet.

So, I carried the bag and followed them.

The hallway echoed with laughter. Ben cracked jokes about swim meets and locker room pranks, while Caleb strode ahead, silent and cool.

On the way, Ben kept turning around and smiling at me.

He winked, nudged Caleb, and whispered about "new blood" for the team. I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help grinning.

Weird.

I never thought I’d be walking to the pool with two campus legends, carrying a bag that felt heavier with every step.

At the venue, I could only marvel at the equipment and facilities—really complete.

It was like stepping into an Olympic training center—lane ropes, kickboards and pull buoys stacked along the wall, a giant lap clock, and Gatorade coolers. I gawked, feeling tiny next to the muscle crowd.

The guys in swimwear looked youthful, smiles glistening with water—not to mention abs, pecs, back muscles...

My cheeks flushed. I swear I’m not a creep—promise. The place was like a catalog for athletic ambition. I snapped a mental photo and tried not to drool.

"Wipe your drool, go buy some water."

Caleb’s voice cut through my trance—playful, smirking. He held out a crisp twenty, eyebrow raised like he was issuing a challenge.

A twenty-dollar bill was handed to my face by Caleb.

He didn’t even look at me—just dangled the bill, all business. I hesitated, weighing pride against hydration.

Who do you think I am!

I laughed nervously, shrugged, and reached for my phone, determined to keep my dignity.

I grabbed my phone hanging around my neck and smiled humbly: "Can you Venmo me? No pockets in swimwear, not convenient."

I flashed my screen. “I don’t carry cash; can I Venmo you?” Times have changed—who even brings bills to the pool?

"Oh?" Caleb narrowed his eyes, teasing, "Want to add me on Venmo?"

His lips curled in a half-smirk, as if daring me to make a move. I played it cool, though my heart skipped.

...He thinks I'm up to something!

Ben popped over, "Or add mine..."

Ben grinned, waving his phone, desperate for attention. I stifled a giggle.

"Fifty push-ups."

Caleb tossed out that sentence like a captain, then opened his Venmo QR code for me to scan.

Smooth and swift—I didn't dare not to scan.

I fumbled, scanned Caleb, and tried to hide my smile. Ben groaned and started his push-ups with dramatic flair.

After scanning, he walked away coolly.

Caleb didn’t wait for thanks. He strode off, towel slung over his shoulder, leaving me and Ben to sort out water bottles.

All I heard was Ben's wailing.

"Devil! Devil!"

Ben’s dramatic cries echoed across the pool. The other guys laughed, tossing towels at him as he continued his punishment.

On the way back after buying drinks, I bounced along happily.

I came back clutching BodyArmor and Smartwater, cold condensation slick in my hand, practically skipping.

Caleb let me tag along and even added me on Venmo—probably out of consideration for Marcus and Tanya's relationship.

I rationalized he was just being polite, not flirting—checking my expectations so I wouldn’t write fan fiction in my head—but deep down, I hoped it meant more.

Seems like my relationship with him will improve.

A bit of hope sparked inside me. Maybe this was the start of something new—if not romance, at least friendship.

Great, no need to avoid him anymore.

I made a silent vow to stop ducking behind vending machines at his sight. Progress!

Hehe, the campus isn't overflowing with handsome guys—the more eye candy, the better. Better than doing eye exercises.

My friends always joked that campus was short on heartthrobs. Now, at least, my luck might involve less cringe and more flirting.

Who would've thought, just as this idea formed, before it could even take root, it got nipped in the bud.

Just as I started to relax, disaster struck. Turns out, my streak wasn’t done with me yet.

Because I was just told I brought the wrong sports bag. The one I brought was Marcus's, who's serving Tanya in the hospital today!

Ben broke the news with a sheepish smile. I glanced inside and spotted Marcus’s monogram and a team sticker on the towel—Caleb’s gear was nowhere in sight.

This caused a serious problem.

Caleb needed his own gear—his personal goggles, cap, and earplugs. He’s got a superstition about his lucky cap, too. And I’d just delivered the wrong bag. Whoops.

When Caleb came out of the pool, he didn't have his own personal items to use.

He stood dripping by the locker, searching for his favorite shampoo. Ben whistled, trying to lighten the mood. Caleb’s glare said it all.

And obviously, Caleb wouldn't use things others have used.

He’s the type who labels his water bottle and avoids communal gear like it’s radioactive. I braced for a scolding.

So, I might get blocked by him less than half an hour after adding his Venmo.

I pictured a dramatic block-and-delete, my social status dropping like a stone.

Even worse, at this crisis moment, Derek suddenly appeared!

The universe loves a plot twist. Derek walked in—apparently looking for Lillian, the team manager—and yes, this was a public rec space, so he wasn’t exactly breaking rules.

I don't get it. I'm so confused.

How did he find me here? Did someone leak my location? Was he stalking me? My brain spun with worst-case scenarios.

Why is he here? I don't want him to think I'm still hung up on him!

I panicked, wanting to disappear. I scanned for exits, but Derek was blocking my escape.

So I chose to jump into the pool.

Yes, you read that right. In a split-second decision, I dove in, and a lifeguard’s whistle chirped while a teammate shouted “Heads up!”—liability is real.

That's right.

Everyone else was busy with practice, so my leap barely registered. The water was cold, but the adrenaline kept me afloat.

When Derek was pressing closer and no one noticed, I jumped straight into the pool.

He reached for my arm, and I dove, legs kicking, breath held. My survival instincts were stronger than my social anxiety.

I can swim and hold my breath, but my foot cramped up.

Figures. A sharp calf-clench seized my foot, and I kicked to flex my toes, trying to shake it off, but panic crept in—I didn’t want to become a cautionary tale.

Then I heard a splash—someone jumped in, and in the struggle, that person dragged me up.

Strong arms wrapped around me, cool grip cutting through slick water and chlorine sting, pulling me to the surface. I blinked, coughing, and realized it was Caleb. Somewhere, someone shouted, “Damn!”

After surfacing, I clung to Caleb's shoulders, refusing to let go.

Water dripped down my face, but I didn’t care. His grip was firm, steady. I felt safe, even as my heart hammered.

"Already taking advantage?"

He teased, voice low and playful. My cheeks burned, and I buried my face in his shoulder, mortified.

The teasing words made my face instantly flush red.

Ben whistled from the side, making wolf calls. The rest of the team grinned, and my embarrassment grew tenfold.

Then he carried me into the changing room under everyone's gaze.

He didn’t ask—just scooped me up, bridal-style, and strode past the gawking crowd. A coach gave him a nod toward the athletes’ changing area—clearly marked and not public—and someone filmed it. My reputation was toast.

Once the door closed, only Ben shouted, totally killing the mood.

"Damn! I want to use this trick too!"

His voice echoed down the hall. I groaned, wishing the earth would open up.

In the changing room, just Caleb and me.

The air smelled like fresh towels and body spray. My clothes clung to me, heavy with pool water. I shivered, trying to regain composure.

After putting me down, he took a dry towel from the locker and tossed it to me, then smirked.

He leaned against the lockers, arms crossed, watching me with an amused glint in his eye.

"Here, take it."

He deliberately mimicked what I said before—eyes crinkling just enough to soften the callback.

I awkwardly took it, wiped my face, thanked him, and tried to give it back.

But realizing I'd used the towel, my hand paused.

I hesitated, awkwardly holding out the damp towel. Caleb didn’t even flinch—he grabbed it and ran it through his hair like it was no big deal.

Caleb didn't care—he took it and wiped his hair.

As if sharing a towel was the chillest thing. He didn’t blink, just tossed his shirt aside and pulled on a fresh one.

A shirt was tossed over, covering my face, carrying a dry scent, same as Caleb's.

The shirt smelled faintly of detergent and something uniquely his—crisp and clean, almost comforting.

"Change."

Short and to the point, then he left the changing room.

When I came out, everyone else had left.

The pool was eerily quiet, the echo of laughter gone. I felt out of place, clutching the oversized shirt.

Only Caleb, already changed, holding Marcus's sports bag in one hand, the other in his pocket, waiting for me.

He leaned against the wall, foot tapping, eyes fixed on the exit. I swallowed, nerves tingling.

Seeing me come out, he gave me a look, signaling me to leave.

No words needed—he nodded toward the hallway, and I followed, grateful for his silent understanding.

It was already after eight in the evening.

Campus was well-lit, a campus police car rolling by, blue light emergency phones glowing on the path. Distant music, laughter, the smell of pizza wafting from dorm windows.

The way back led to the girls' apartment.

He walked me all the way, hands in pockets, maintaining a comfortable distance. The silence was almost companionable.

He was escorting me, though I walked ahead.

I tried to match his stride, but my mind raced with questions. The chilly autumn air made my thoughts feel sharper.

I tried to break the awkwardness: "Ahem, you've probably never met a girl as clumsy as me, right?"

I laughed nervously, hoping to break the ice. “I’m basically a walking hazard.” My voice sounded small against the night.

Unexpectedly, he turned to look at me, thought for a moment, then said: "I've met one."

His answer surprised me. He seemed amused, eyes softening for a moment.

I felt much better.

A warm flush spread across my cheeks. Maybe he didn’t think I was a total disaster after all.

"Want to know who?"

He stopped, waited for me to approach, smiled and asked.

"Who?"

I looked up, waiting for the punchline.

"That Thanksgiving night, the student council held a pie tasting for students staying on campus. I was called by Marcus to make up numbers."

I remembered that night in the student union ballroom—the crowded hall, the laughter, my heart breaking in a corner.

Wasn't that the day Derek succeeded in his confession and I got dumped?

I shrank at the memory, suddenly anxious about where Caleb was going with this.

Caleb continued, reminiscing with interest.

He smiled faintly, voice mellow. "Someone confessed that night, I didn't pay attention, but someone cried really ugly—snot and tears everywhere—and kept rubbing against me."

Wait, could he be talking about me?

My stomach dropped. I tried to recall every embarrassing moment from that night, hoping he meant someone else.

But I don't remember meeting Caleb, and as a proper girl, how could I do such a thing!

I fumbled for a defense, cheeks burning. Surely I’d remember something that humiliating.

"You even asked me if we could date."

I nearly tripped. No way I’d done that—right?

"Impossible!"

I protested too quickly, hoping he’d let it go. But his grin said otherwise.

"Oh?"

He arched an eyebrow, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

"I only drank a little beer that night, was a bit tipsy... No way I have zero memory. You must be lying."

I tried to sound confident, but my voice trembled. Caleb just laughed, shaking his head.

I denied it confidently, making Caleb smile even bigger.

He chuckled, eyes twinkling. "Then do you remember eating lots of pie?"

"I remember."

I nodded, hoping this was the story he’d stick with.

"Did you eat the chive and cheese one?"

"Uh..."

That brought it all back—me buying a cheesy scallion quiche for Derek, hoping for some magical romantic outcome. My confidence wavered.

That's right, I specially bought it for Derek, because he said he wanted to try a surprising pie. Now that I think about it, maybe it was a shock.

The pie was a disaster, but my night was even worse. I glanced at Caleb, wondering if he remembered every embarrassing detail.

"So, you hugged me."

"No, no, I hugged..."

I started to protest, but the memories blurred together. Who had I hugged? My mind spun.

I clearly hugged...

I suddenly looked up and stared at Caleb's face, which was blurry in my tear-filled vision back then, but now gradually became clear.

Slowly, I recalled the soft feeling of rubbing my face against a furry belly that night.

Synthetic fur smelled like warm plastic, the suit overheated, and I mumbled into it like a child hiding.

"Could it be... you were the rabbit mascot that night??"

"Correct." Although he was forced by Marcus to wear it, reluctantly helping his friend chase a girl.

Caleb leaned down slightly, smiling at me.

He tilted his head, a playful grin on his lips. I gasped, connecting all the dots.

They're actually the same person.

My mind reeled. Suddenly, the tears, the pie, the hugs—everything made sense. I laughed, half in disbelief, half in relief.

My tears almost came out.

I covered my mouth, the embarrassment bubbling up. Caleb’s gentle laugh made it all less mortifying.

"Thank..."

I started to thank him, but he cut me off with another story—assuring he’d never post embarrassing content.

"The way you ate pie and begged for a kiss that night, that was really embarrassing."

......

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. Trust me to make a scene.

"Oh, I have a video, want to see?"

He wagged a brow, then added softly, “I’d never share it—promise.”

Let me die!

I squealed, waving him off. No way I wanted proof of my worst moment.

About the kiss thing, after recalling hard, it wasn't that creepy.

I tried to rationalize it—after all, I’d been talking to a mascot, not a real person. Sort of.

After all, drunk me asked the rabbit mascot Caleb for a kiss, and at that time, he was a giant cutie, basically a pet, not Caleb himself.

Somehow that made it better. I could forgive myself for acting like a tipsy child in front of a guy in a fuzzy suit.

Right, that's it.

I nodded, convincing myself it wasn’t as mortifying as I thought. Caleb’s soft laughter helped.

The one I asked for a kiss...

No matter how I think, it was still Caleb!

I covered my face, groaning. Tanya threw a pillow at me, scolding me for ruining her snacks.

I flopped on the bed, angering my roommates, who ruthlessly confiscated my Flamin' Hot Cheetos with their mouths.

Ben messaged me a meme, Tanya danced in victory, and I was left licking the Cheetos dust from my fingers in defeat.

And misfortune doesn't come alone—the discomfort after diving hit fast.

The room spun a little, my body aching from the impromptu swim and embarrassment. I pulled the covers up, hoping for sleep.

I squinted, feeling sleepy, then fell into a dream.

My eyelids drooped, and I drifted off, my thoughts swirling between pie, mascots, and Caleb’s cool stare.

The dream was of Thanksgiving night.

I was back in the crowded hall, watching Derek and his girlfriend, feeling invisible and alone. My heart ached anew.

When Derek and his girlfriend hugged, I hid in a corner crying my face off.

The memory played out in hazy slow motion. I clutched my pie, tears dripping onto the crust.

Next second, a huge rabbit head covered my head.

Warmth surrounded me—a fuzzy hug, blocking out the world. It was oddly comforting, like someone was shielding me from judgment.

Then a deep voice sounded.

"Now no one can see you."

I woke up at this point.

My heart raced as I sat up, the dream fading into the dim morning light. I blinked, trying to shake off the confusion.

Confused.

The feeling lingered, half sweet, half embarrassing. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to laugh or cry.

Caleb, Caleb, why did I dream of you?

Even sleeping, my mind couldn’t let go. I buried my face in the pillow, questioning everything.

Even dreaming made my heart race.

I pressed my hand to my chest, willing it to calm down. Tanya’s snores in the next room seemed suddenly comforting.