Chapter 4: Drawing the Line

"It's just that people like seeing a girl like you so into me."

He shrugged, as if that explained everything. I rolled my eyes, not bothering to argue.

"By the way, Lila, who would like someone so dull... especially with our relationship."

'Dull' was a word Carter often used to tease me.

He’d say it with a smirk, but I knew he didn’t really mean it. Still, it stung sometimes.

He dropped me off at the campus gate, face cold, telling me not to go to next week's basketball game.

His words were final, like a slammed door. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

I quietly agreed.

I watched his car disappear down the street, the taillights fading into the night. I felt oddly relieved.

A week later, my uncle called, saying he couldn't reach Carter and asked me to check on him.

I hesitated, phone pressed to my ear. For the first time, I considered saying no.

For the first time, I refused my uncle's request, saying I wasn't feeling well and gave him Carter's roommate's contact.

My voice trembled, but I stood my ground. It felt like a small victory.

My uncle didn't think much of it, just told me to rest more.

He sounded distracted, already moving on to the next thing. I hung up, feeling lighter.

That night, just as I was about to go to sleep, I got a message from Carter.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with his name. I hesitated before opening it.

"Lila, you did it on purpose, right? I saw you out at the food trucks at noon, and in the afternoon you told on me saying you were sick?"

His words were accusatory, but I could tell he was fishing for a reaction.

"If you wanted to see me, you didn't have to fake being sick."

He always assumed everything was about him. I rolled my eyes, tossing my phone onto the bed.

"Come downstairs!"

I sighed, staring at the ceiling.

I debated ignoring him, but I knew he’d just keep texting. I pulled on a hoodie and headed outside.

I guessed my uncle was worried and asked Carter to check on me.

It made sense—Uncle Ray was always protective, even if he didn’t show it.

All these years, I only shared good news, never bad. Maybe saying I was sick made my uncle think it was serious.

I felt a pang of guilt, but I pushed it aside. I needed to start living my own life.

I put on a hoodie and went downstairs. Carter's tall figure was leaning lazily against a maple tree, arms crossed.

He looked up as I approached, the streetlight casting shadows across his face. For a moment, he looked almost vulnerable.

When he saw me, he suddenly handed me a bag of medicine, grinning smugly: "Lila, you know I have a party tonight, right?"

He dangled the bag in front of me, as if it was a peace offering. I took it, unsure what to say.

"To stop me from going, you faked being sick. Well, as you wish."

He tried to sound annoyed, but I could hear the concern in his voice. I almost smiled.

When I didn't react, he grabbed my wrist and looped the medicine bag over it.

His grip was gentle, but insistent. I stared at the bag, wondering what he expected from me.

I made up my mind to explain: "Sorry, I didn't expect Uncle Ray to send you. I said I was unwell just because I didn't want to help him find you."

I looked him in the eye, hoping he’d understand. It was time to set some boundaries.

Carter's smile froze, and he frowned: "What do you mean?"

He sounded genuinely confused, like he couldn’t imagine a world where I didn’t do what I was told.

"I mean, we're adults now, we should mind our own business. From now on, I won't pass messages for Uncle Ray, and you don't need to come check on me."

My voice was steady, even as my heart raced. I felt a strange sense of relief.

Carter's face suddenly darkened. He gripped my wrist tighter, his voice colder.

He leaned in, his breath warm against my cheek. "Fine, Lila. All these years, if you hadn't begged me, I wouldn't have always brought you along."

"Playing hard to get has its limits..."

He let go, stepping back. I could see the hurt in his eyes, even if he tried to hide it.

I struggled to break free from his grip. "I'm not playing hard to get."

I pulled my hand away, holding the medicine bag close to my chest. The silence between us was heavy.

Carter stared into my eyes, then reverted to his usual lazy self, letting out a snort of laughter.

He shrugged, forcing a grin. "Fine, then there's no need to meet again."

He turned and walked a couple steps, then suddenly turned back: "Lila, don't regret it."

His words echoed in the quiet night. I watched him walk away, feeling a strange mix of sadness and relief.

I thought Carter would block and delete me.

He’d always been dramatic, so it wouldn’t have surprised me. But he didn’t—at least not right away.

But a few days later, I saw his Instagram story, where he publicly announced his relationship with a freshman girl.

The photo was staged—Carter grinning, arm around a girl I’d never seen before. She looked happy, and for a moment, I felt a pang of jealousy.

The two of them sat in a restaurant, the girl hugging Carter's neck. Next to them was a big bouquet of red roses, and the cake said 'Happy Birthday Baby.'

The comments poured in—heart emojis, inside jokes, the usual banter. I scrolled through them, feeling oddly detached.

Carter had dated plenty of girls over the years, but this was the first time he'd made it public.

He was making a statement, and I got the message loud and clear.

In the comments, mutual friends liked the post.

Some congratulated him, others tagged me, their jokes thinly veiled.

And some teased me.

I read the comments, feeling the familiar sting of being the butt of the joke. I closed the app, tossing my phone onto my bed.

"This time Carter's serious. Lila must be crying in the bathroom."

"On such a happy day, why bring her up!"

"If I'm not mistaken, isn't today Lila's birthday?"

"Don't mention it, or Carter will get mad."

Only then did I remember today was my birthday.

I laughed, shaking my head. It figured that no one else would remember, either.

In past years, my uncle would sometimes remember, but he was busy and had to balance my place in the Maddox family.

I never blamed him. He had enough on his plate, and I learned early on not to expect too much.

I understood. A birthday was just getting a year older, nothing special.

I shrugged, telling myself it was just another day. I’d learned to celebrate the little things on my own.

I was lost in thought when my roommate Marissa's voice came from behind.

She burst into the room, arms full of shopping bags, her energy infectious. I smiled despite myself.

"Lila, isn't today your birthday?"

Marissa was a local, with a baby face—super cute and outgoing—a total contrast to me.

She was the kind of girl who made friends with everyone, always dragging me along on her adventures.

I closed Instagram and turned back. "Yeah, I just remembered."

She gasped, hands on her hips. “Girl, you are not spending your birthday moping around in here!”

She hurried to get dressed. "How can you spend your birthday in the dorm? Let's go out to eat."

She rifled through her closet, tossing me a sweater and a pair of earrings. “Come on, put these on. We’re celebrating!”

All the way, Marissa was on the phone with her boyfriend, arranging where to eat and what gift to get me.

She spoke a mile a minute, barely giving me a chance to protest. I just smiled, letting her take the lead.

She didn't give me a chance to refuse.

By the time we reached the car, she’d already picked the restaurant and ordered a cake. There was no saying no to Marissa.

She took me to a diner behind the college town.

It was the kind of place with checkered tablecloths and old jukeboxes in the corner. The neon sign buzzed overhead, casting everything in a warm glow.

"Lila, I invited my boyfriend. He was worried it'd be awkward, so he brought a roommate. You don't mind, right?"

She grinned, nudging me toward the door. I shook my head, trying to hide my nerves.

I looked up at the neon-lit diner in front of me.

The sign flickered, casting shadows on the cracked sidewalk. It felt like stepping into a movie scene.

"It's fine. You guys order what you like, I'll go look at the menu."

I glanced around, taking in the smell of frying onions and fresh coffee. The place was cozy, almost comforting.

"No need, they're already here, everything's set. Tonight, just enjoy yourself."

Marissa tugged me toward the booth, her excitement contagious.

(none)

I slid into the vinyl seat, heart racing. I tried to act casual, but my hands shook as I smoothed my napkin.

Across sat her boyfriend, and next to him was... Mason.

My breath caught in my throat. Mason looked up, eyes meeting mine. For a second, the world seemed to stop.

(none)

He smiled, small and shy. I felt my cheeks flush, hoping no one noticed.

Marissa pulled me to sit down, warmly introducing her boyfriend Alex, and Alex's roommate Mason Rivera.

I nodded, trying to hide my nerves. Mason’s gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than necessary.

I always knew Marissa's boyfriend went to the same school as Mason.

She’d mentioned it in passing, but I never imagined I’d actually meet him like this.

But I didn't know they were roommates.

It felt like fate—or maybe just a really strange coincidence.

I politely greeted them, and Alex pushed the menu to me.