Saturday crept closer than Ava expected.
Not because time moved faster, but because once the words were spoken, they echoed in her chest like footsteps in a hallway.
You can come with me.
She had said it too casually. Or maybe not casually enough. Either way, every time she remembered the look in Recee's eyes when she invited him, her stomach did a small, traitorous flip.
The campus felt brighter than usual that afternoon. Sunlight spilled lazily across the courtyard, catching faces and windows and bare tree branches. Laughter bounced off walls. The smell of roasted corn drifted from the roadside.
Ava walked with her backpack slung loosely over one shoulder, replaying the conversation again in her head.
She didn't regret inviting him.
She was just… aware of it. Deeply aware of it.
Her orphanage wasn't just a place. It was her beginning and her reminder. It was where she'd learned to share food that wasn't enough and laugh even when tears burned. It was the version of her life before college pretended everything was normal.
Letting someone see that was not small.
And yet she chose him.
Stop thinking, she scolded herself. You're making it bigger than it is. He's just visiting. Just a friend. Just—
"Ava!"
She barely turned in time before Mia crashed into her from the side like a human hurricane, nearly knocking both of them off balance.
"Mia!" Ava wheezed. "Why are you tackling me like unpaid electricity bill?"
Mia flipped her braids dramatically. "Because you've been smiling at nothing for two days, and as your best friend slash roommate slash unpaid therapist, I demand answers."
Ava blinked. "I haven't been smiling."
"You smiled just now," Mia accused.
"That was oxygen entering my lungs."
"Lie again."
Ava groaned. "Mia…"
Mia gasped theatrically, clutching Ava's shoulders. "Is it a guy?"
"No."
"Is it food?"
"No."
Her eyes widened like she'd discovered gold. "It's a guy who bought you food."
Ava covered her face. "I regret meeting you."
Mia squealed. "IT'S A GUY!"
Students passing by turned to stare. Ava tugged her down immediately.
"Lower your voice!"
Mia's grin did not dim even a little. "Who?"
"No one."
Mia narrowed her eyes. "Recee?"
Ava stiffened for half a second.
Unfortunately for Ava, Mia was the kind of friend that could detect silence the way sharks sensed blood.
"Oh my goodness," Mia whispered, energized. "It IS him."
"It is NOT him," Ava snapped.
"So it's definitely him."
Ava began walking faster. Mia followed, talking faster.
"He's quiet, tall, smart, broody—"
"He is not broody."
"He broods respectfully."
Ava choked on a laugh.
Mia looped her arm through Ava's, their pace falling into familiar rhythm. Their dorm was in sight now—an old, slightly cracked building with clothes hanging from balconies like flags.
"So?" Mia pushed gently. "Tell me."
Ava exhaled slowly. "I invited him to the orphanage."
Mia stopped walking.
Her drama paused for once.
"You… what?"
"I invited him," Ava repeated, calmer now. "For Saturday."
The wind picked up a little, brushing stray strands of hair across Ava's face. Mia didn't move, just stared like Ava had confessed to committing high-level espionage.
"That's huge," Mia finally whispered. "Ava… that's not the campus cafeteria. That's your home."
"I know."
"He said yes?"
"Yes."
"And you're okay?"
Ava hesitated.
"I don't know," she admitted. "But I didn't want to hide that part anymore."
Mia's dramatic edge softened into pure warmth.
"I'm proud of you," she said simply.
Ava blinked. "Why?"
"Because you're letting someone in."
Mia bumped their shoulders gently. Then, of course, she immediately ruined the emotional moment.
"But also, if he breaks your heart, I'm breaking his kneecaps."
Ava laughed helplessly. "He won't."
"Good. Kneecaps are stressful."
They entered their dorm room.
Within three seconds, Mia flopped face-first onto Ava's bed like she owned oxygen rights to it. Ava yanked her by the leg.
"Get off. That's my side."
"We share everything," Mia said into the pillow.
"Not my blanket."
"Your heart, maybe?"
Ava threw the pillow at her.
Mia dodged, popped up, eyes shining. "So… do you like him?"
Ava's fingers tightened on the blanket unconsciously.
"I don't know," she whispered.
Mia smiled softly. "Then let it be 'don't know' for now."
Ava nodded.
But somewhere inside, she felt the beginning of something she didn't dare name yet.
Across campus, in a more expensive part of town, Recee sat in a nearly empty café with his friend Ethan.
Ethan sprawled in his chair like he believed gravity worked for other people but not him. He had an easy grin, mischievous eyes, and the kind of personality teachers labelled "potential" and "headache" at the same time.
"So," Ethan said, sipping his drink. "You're staring at your phone again."
"I'm not."
"You are."
Recee didn't look up. "I'm reading."
"You're staring at the lock screen."
Recee locked the phone deliberately and set it aside.
Ethan's grin widened. "Is it the girl?"
"No."
"Then why do you look like someone who has discovered emotions and hates it?"
Recee sighed.
Ethan leaned forward eagerly. "Tell me."
"No."
Ethan snapped his fingers. "It's the coffee girl."
Recee frowned slightly. "Coffee girl?"
"The one who argues with professors and walks like she's late for destiny."
Recee's jaw flexed. "Ava."
"Ohhh," Ethan sang. "He says her name."
"It's her name."
"It's the way you said it."
Recee looked out the window.
Ethan watched him for a moment, expression softening beneath the teasing.
"You like her."
Recee didn't answer.
Ethan didn't need him to.
"So what happened?" Ethan asked gently this time.
Recee turned the cup slowly in his fingers. "She invited me."
Ethan almost choked. "On a date?"
"No."
"Then what?"
"To the orphanage she grew up in."
The joking drained from Ethan's face.
"Oh," he said.
"Yes."
"That's… big."
"I know."
For a long moment, neither spoke. The café music hummed softly through the air.
Ethan finally leaned back. "So. Are you going?"
Recee didn't hesitate. "Yes."
Ethan smiled slowly. "You've already fallen."
Recee gave him a dry look. "No."
"You're attending-orphanage-trips level invested."
Recee didn't reply.
Then Ethan grinned again because he physically could not stay serious longer than three minutes in a row.
"Do the kids get to meet you before I do?"
Recee raised a brow. "You're not meeting them."
"I'm the fun uncle friend!"
"No."
Ethan gasped dramatically. "She gets to bring you into her childhood but I don't?"
Recee shook his head despite himself.
Ethan studied him again, voice calm now.
"You're different when you talk about her."
Recee didn't deny it this time.
"I know," he said quietly.
Ethan smiled—no teasing this time.
"Then don't mess it up."
That night, Ava lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Mia slept deeply beside her, one leg thrown dramatically over her blanket.
The room was quiet except for the hum of the fan and distant campus music.
Ava placed a hand lightly over her chest.
Her heart was racing and calm at the same time—like standing on a bridge and knowing the water below was deep but beautiful.
"He's just visiting," she whispered to herself.
But another thought gently nudged that one aside.
You wanted him to.
Across the city, Recee stood by his window, city lights blinking below. His phone was silent on the desk. Ethan's words floated in his mind.
You're different when you talk about her.
He didn't smile.
But he didn't push the thought away either.
He let it sit.
For the first time in a very long time, tomorrow felt personal.
And neither of them quite understood why that mattered so much yet.