Brent’s POV
The next morning, I wandered alone through the quiet campus, my thoughts a tangled mess. Last night had been incredible—celebrating with Stacey, watching Betty own that stage—but something about it left an ache I couldn’t quite place.
Betty. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. All the years we’d been friends, all the moments we’d shared—she’d always been there for me, just as I’d been there for her. But lately, it felt like we were drifting apart. I told myself it was natural, that things change, but deep down, it didn’t feel right.
And then there was Stacey. She’d come into my life like a whirlwind, turning everything upside down in the best way. I cared about her, really cared. But every time I tried to focus on Stacey, thoughts of Betty crept in, leaving me feeling… torn.
As I neared the main campus building, I stopped short. Across the courtyard, Betty was talking to Sasha, her head tipped back as she laughed at something he’d said. It was the kind of laugh that lit her whole face up, the one I used to think was ours. My chest tightened as I realized how long it had been since I’d made her laugh like that.
I took a step forward without thinking, but then a tap on my shoulder froze me in place.
“Hey!” Stacey’s voice was warm, her smile brighter than the morning sun. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”
I turned to her, managing a small smile. “Morning.”
She tilted her head, studying me with those sharp, knowing eyes of hers. “You okay? You seem… distracted.”
“I’m fine,” I said quickly, forcing more conviction into my tone than I felt. “Just tired, I guess.”
Stacey launched into a story I was not quite listening to. I nodded, though, laughing at the right moments, but my gaze kept drifting back to where Betty stood with Sasha. Stacey must have noticed my distraction because she squeezed my arm. “You’re really out of it today,” she said, her tone laced with humor, though I could hear the undercurrent of concern.
“Sorry,” I muttered, shaking my head as if to clear it. “Just… a lot on my mind.”
“Hey. Whatever it is, you can tell me, okay?”
For a moment, I thought about saying it—about spilling everything. But the words stuck in my throat, tangled in a web of guilt and uncertainty.
“Yeah,” I said instead. “Thanks, Stacey.”
She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, and I hated the flicker of doubt I saw there.
My thoughts raced faster than ever. I couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter which way I turned, someone was going to get hurt. The only question was who.