Chapter 15: That Wasn’t Exactly An Invitation
ROSE’S POV
A few hours ago.
The lock clicked into place, and Rose kept her hand flat against the door a second longer than the motion actually required.
She kissed him. In front of Daniel. Then told him not to think about it, like that was a request a person could reasonably make and expect to be honored.
She exhaled through her nose, slow, the kind of breath that didn’t actually fix anything but felt like it should.
What exactly was she doing. No good answer arrived.
She finally peeled her hand off the door and turned back into the apartment.
She hadn’t made it past the kitchen counter before her phone buzzed.
Unknown number=> One New Message.
Her brows furrowed for a moment. Curiousity got the better of her. She clicked on the message.
Unknown number: I’ll pick you up after your shift tomorrow.
Then, a second later, before she’d even processed the first one:
Unknown number: Love you, babe.
She stared at that word specifically and she already knew who it was. Babe. Only Daniel would go through the lengths to act like she hadn’t stood in a convenience store an hour ago telling him no twice to his face and watching neither pass land.
He wasn’t asking if he could pick her up. He was informing her. The distinction mattered more than he’d ever bothered to notice.
She didn’t answer.
Locked the phone. Set it face-up on the counter like ignoring it required proof.
It buzzed again thirty seconds later. She flipped it face-down without checking.
She changed into something soft and forgiving, dropped onto the couch, and pulled up whatever movie had been sitting half-watched in her queue for a week.
She barely caught a glance of anything after the introductory credits came up. Matter of fact.Five minutes in, she realized she hadn’t absorbed a single frame.
Her thoughts kept doing laps instead. Daniel, tomorrow, the gym, and then, inevitably, looping back around to Adrian. What a nice name.
Stop.
She didn’t particularly know why exactly he was on her mind. He was just a freshman she’d somehow met a few hours ago. And kissed. And then asked to pretend like nothing happened.
Right. That was why.
She dropped her hand, looked back at the screen. Still nothing. Might as well have been static.
Her phone buzzed again. Once, twice, a third time in quick succession. The specific rhythm of someone who knew she was awake and wasn’t going to let the silence hold.
Anika: You alive? How was your night? And don’t say "fine."
Rose typed Fine. Deleted it. Typed Long. Deleted that too, staring at the blinking cursor like it might write something better on its own.
Finally.
Rose: Complicated.
The reply came back almost instantly.
Anika: I knew it.
A beat.
Anika: Wait. Did you see what Daniel posted on Insta?
Rose: No. What post?
She responded instantly.
Anika: 📷1 Photo
Something in Rose’s chest went tight before she’d even opened it.
An old photo. Daniel’s arm around her, her own arms looped around his neck, her lips against his cheek mid-laugh. Him grinning at the camera, two fingers up in a peace sign like the whole thing was a joke they were both in on.
They looked happy. Easy. Like nothing had ever gone wrong between the frame and now.
Caption underneath, three words: My one and only.
Rose went completely still, phone held a few inches from her face like putting it down might make it more true.
Now the earlier text made sense.
I’ll pick you up tomorrow.
He wasn’t asking her back. He was narrating them back together and daring reality to catch up.
Anika: Please tell me this isn’t real.
Rose looked at the photo again. Same easy smile. Same fingers up. Same total confidence that this would work, because it always had before.
More messages piled up behind Anika’s. Someone had already asked if they were back together. Someone else, apparently, had called it: knew you’d forgive him eventually.
She just sat there. Unsure what exactly Daniel’s intentions truly were.
She knew Daniel wasn’t a monster. That was the actual problem. A monster would’ve been predictable at this point. Daniel just smiled, stayed reasonable-sounding, made everything look like she was the difficult one for not simply moving past it.
She considered the simple option. Don’t go tomorrow. Call in. Avoid him entirely and let the whole thing lose momentum on its own.
She rejected it almost as fast as she’d thought of it.
Why should her routine bend around a man who couldn’t take one no seriously the first two times.
It shouldn’t. She wasn’t going to let it. She looked at Anika’s last text.
Anika: Then what are you going to do?
Rose looked at the television, still running, still nothing she’d retained a second of.
She started typing a reply, stopped, deleted it, started again, deleted that too. Her mind, for possibly the first time all day, coming up completely empty. No clever angle. No plan. Just static, same as the movie.
Then. Footsteps. Faint, from directly above her.
She froze, eyes lifting toward the ceiling on reflex. The footsteps stopped. Silence.
Her gaze dropped back to the phone. Anika’s thread still open, cursor still blinking in the empty box.
She looked up at the ceiling again. Longer, this time. An idea surfaced. She gave it exactly as long as it took to recognize it as a bad one.
She didn’t dismiss it.
===
ADRIAN’S POV
Rose pulled the door wider.
"Don’t you want to come in?"
He didn’t move right away. Glanced at the gap she’d opened, then back at her, weighing something that didn’t need this much consideration and getting it anyway.
"I was waiting."
"For what?"
"An actual invitation."
"I just gave you one."
"You asked if I wanted to come in." He paused. "That’s a question. Not the same thing."
She stared at him, unimpressed in the specific way that meant she was actually somewhat impressed and refusing to show it.
"Fine." A small shake of her head. "Come in, Adrian."
That worked. He stepped past her, and the door clicked shut behind him.