Chapter 17: Things He Almost Says
(Evan Carter POV)
"Morning."
Her voice caught me off guard.
I looked up from my phone. Mia stood a few steps away, backpack slung over one shoulder, hair pulled back like she'd done it without thinking. Or like she'd thought about it too much.
"Morning," I said.
There was a pause.
Not the normal kind.
The kind where both people were deciding how careful to be.
"You're early," she said.
"I usually am."
"I know."
Another pause.
She shifted her weight, fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. I noticed. I always noticed things like that. I just didn't comment on them.
"Well," she said, forcing a small smile, "I'll see you in class."
"Yeah."
She turned to leave.
"Mia."
She stopped. Looked back.
"Yes?"
The word sat there. Waiting. Whatever I'd meant to say behind it pressing against my teeth.
I didn't say it.
"…Nothing," I said. "See you later."
Her expression flickered. Not hurt. Not yet. Just something adjusting.
"Okay," she said.
She walked away.
I stayed where I was longer than necessary, staring at the space she'd left behind like it might explain something if I gave it enough time.
It didn't.
Daniel slid into the seat across from me in the lecture hall like he hadn't been warned. Like people didn't know when to keep their distance.
"You look like hell," he said.
"I slept fine."
"That's worse."
I didn't respond.
He leaned back, lowering his voice. "So. About yesterday."
"Drop it."
"I'm just saying—"
"I said drop it."
He studied me for a second, then nodded slowly. "You're serious."
"Yes."
"Okay," he said, hands raised. "Relax. I won't bring it up again."
"Good."
"But," he added—because people like him always did—"you should know something."
I turned my head slightly. "What."
"The guy," Daniel said. "He didn't look like he was just curious."
"Most people aren't."
"He asked your name twice."
My jaw tightened.
"And when I didn't answer the second time," Daniel continued, "he smiled. Like he already knew it."
I stared ahead at the whiteboard. "You should forget about it."
"That's your advice?"
"Yes."
He scoffed. "You're weird, man."
"I've been told."
Mia sat two rows ahead of me.
She didn't turn around.
She usually did.
I watched her talk quietly to the girl beside her. Watched her laugh at something that wasn't funny enough to deserve it. Watched her nod too quickly, like she was agreeing just to keep things moving.
She was adapting.
The thought didn't sit well.
"Evan."
I looked up.
Professor Hale frowned. "You want to share your thoughts with the class, or should I assume you're just here physically?"
A few heads turned.
"I'm listening," I said.
"Then answer the question."
"What was the question?" I asked calmly.
A ripple of quiet laughter moved through the room.
Hale sighed. "Never mind. Just...try to look like you care."
I nodded once.
Mia didn't look back.
I caught up to her outside the building.
"Mia."
She slowed. Didn't stop.
I walked beside her.
"What's up?" she asked.
Casual. Too casual.
"You left early."
"So did you."
Fair.
We walked a few steps in silence, the sound of other students filling the gaps neither of us seemed willing to touch.
"You busy today?" I asked.
She glanced at me. "Why?"
"Just asking."
She thought about it. "I have a study group later."
"With who?"
"People," she said lightly. "Why?"
"No reason."
She exhaled, longer this time. "Evan."
"Yes."
"If you're going to start avoiding me," she said, "I'd rather you just tell me."
I stopped walking.
She took two more steps before realizing I wasn't beside her anymore.
She turned.
"I'm not avoiding you," I said.
"Then what are you doing?"
I didn't answer.
She folded her arms. "You've barely looked at me all day."
"I'm looking at you now."
"That's not the same thing."
She wasn't angry.
That was worse.
"I didn't do anything wrong," she said quietly.
"I know."
"Then why does it feel like I did?"
Because someone else already knew her name.
Because distance was the only shield I had left.
Because silence was safer than honesty.
"I just need some space," I said.
Her expression tightened. Not defensive. Just… contained.
"For how long?"
"I don't know."
She nodded slowly. "Okay."
Just like that.
She turned and walked away.
This time, I followed.
Not close. Just enough.
"Hey," I said. "Mia."
She stopped again. Didn't turn.
"I don't regret last night," I said.
That part mattered.
Her shoulders shifted.
"But?" she asked.
"There's no but."
She turned to face me then. "That's a lie."
I didn't correct her.
She studied my face like she was trying to memorize it before something changed.
"You're really good at not saying things," she said.
"I've had practice."
"Does it ever get easier?"
"No."
She nodded, eyes shining just slightly. "Good to know."
Then she walked away.
This time, I didn't follow.
That night, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
"You're drifting," the voice said.
"I told you not to call me."
"And I told you not to get attached."
Silence stretched between us.
"You've been seen with her again," the voice continued. "You think pushing her away will protect her?"
"It will."
A soft laugh. Controlled. Amused.
"It won't."
"You don't get to decide that."
"We already have," the voice replied. "And if you're smart, you'll end it cleanly."
The call ended.
I stared at the screen until it went dark.
The next morning, Mia didn't sit near me.
She chose a seat by the window. Sunlight on her face. Distant. Unreachable.
I watched her write notes she didn't need. Watched her pause mid-sentence like she was listening for something that wasn't there.
Daniel leaned over. "You two fight?"
"No."
"Then what?"
"Nothing."
He snorted. "Right."
After class, I stood, then sat back down.
I stood again.
She packed her bag and left without looking in my direction.
I didn't follow.
That was the hardest part.
I stayed where I was, staring at the empty seat she'd left behind.
There were a hundred things I could've said.
But I chose silence instead.