Heart in the hallway

th nothing but questions, hoping that somewhere between the lectures and late-night talks, they'd stumble into who they were meant to be. And then - there was Dave. He didn't just enter the campu

re stiff. "Unbelievable." "Jane, I-" "You went behind my back without even talking to me?" Jane's voice rose, laced with hurt. "That was selfish. Rude. Sneaky, even. You know what? You're worse than I thought." Daphne blinked, stunned. "Worse than you thought? Really? What exactly were you thinking?" Jane stepped closer, eyes flaring. "That you were a spoiled little rich girl with more hair than sense. A walking drama. Someone impossible to live with." Daphne scoffed. "Oh, is that right, Jane?" The tension snapped. Jane grabbed her coat and stormed out, slamming the door behind her. By late afternoon, the sunlight had shifted-warmer, lower, more golden than before.Daphne stood in silence, arms crossed, lips trembling slightly. She stared at her half-unpacked suitcase. With a sigh, she made a decision. "Fine," she muttered to herself. "Wendy it is." She reached for her duffel, move out to Wendy's room. Un packing -when a knock rattled the door. Knock-knock. She opened it slowly. Wendy stood there-glamorous, perfectly styled, a vision of luxury in designer labels and dramatic perfume. "Hi!" Wendy. "Do you need help with those bags? Daphne blinked as Wendy tossed her bags to her. "I really wish you were with me earlier," Wendy continued breathlessly. "I went shopping alone-ugh, tragic. I was so confused about what to buy, so guess what? I bought everything!" She burst into a high-pitched, melodious laugh. Daphne forced a tight smile. "Oh. Me too. I love impulse-buying twelve leather jackets." Wendy didn't catch the sarcasm. "I knew we'd get along! I'm so excited we're roommates now! We can talk about boys all night-especially those hot football players." She winked dramatically. Then her tone shifted-casual, but cutting. "I can tell you're from money too. My father owns a multi-billion dollar company. What does your dad do again? A doctor, right?" She smirked. "Adorable." Daphne just stared. This was going to be a very long semester. The library was hushed, steeped in late afternoon light that filtered through tall windows in golden ribbons.The smell of old books, warm coffee, and polished wood filled the air. Daphne sat in the corner by the window, her laptop open but her attention far away. She had tried to drown out the noise of the day-Jane's words, Wendy's perfume, her own tangled emotions-but silence only amplified them. Her fingers hovered over the keys. "Hey-this seat taken?" The voice was deep, smooth like velvet with a slow burn underneath. She looked up. Liam. He stood there, broad-shouldered, towering, his letterman jacket slung casually over one shoulder. His eyes were a shade of storm-gray, unreadable and striking. Soft, dark curls framed his face like he'd just stepped out of a movie. "No," Daphne said quickly, blinking. "It's free." "Thanks." He sat beside her with an effortless confidence that made her heart skip. Not the cocky kind. The quiet, dangerous kind. "I've seen you around," he said after a beat. "You're Daphne, right?" Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Should I be flattered or concerned?" He smirked, flashing dimples. "Depends on how much you like attention." She tried not to smile-but failed. "And you are?" "Liam Carter. Tight end for the Bulldogs. But don't hold that against me." "Tight end? Is that a position or a pickup line?" He let out a low laugh. "You tell me." A pause. Their eyes locked, a silence charged with something electric-like the air before a summer storm. "You always hang out in libraries?" she asked, tilting her head. "Only when I need to clear my head." He leaned back, studying her. "You looked like you were running from something too." Daphne hesitated. "Maybe I am." "Want to talk about it?" She glanced out the window. "Not yet." "Fair enough," Liam said softly. "But whenever you do... I'm around." He stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Nice meeting you, Daphne." Before she could reply, he was gone. She stared at the empty chair beside her, heart pounding. For the first time that day, her lips curled into a real smile. The sun had long dipped beneath the horizon, leaving behind a trail of dusky gold that still clung to the edges of the sky. .The diner buzzed with quiet conversation, clinking silverware, and the soft hum of an old jukebox playing in the background. Fluorescent lights glowed warmly overhead. Daphne stepped inside, scanning the room, until she spotted Wendy perched at a table near the window, picking at a salad like it had personally offended her. "Wendy," Daphne said, walking over. "Hi." Wendy looked up, her lip-glossed smile appearing instantly. "Daphne! What a surprise." Daphne sat down across from her. "I'm glad I ran into you. I think we need to talk." Wendy blinked, still scrolling through her phone. "Sure, go on." Daphne took a breath. "I've been thinking... and I believe the only way we're going to get along is if we're completely-completely honest with each other." Wendy looked up, suddenly intrigued. "Oh, I couldn't agree more." Daphne smiled-finally, some progress. But Wendy's eyes drifted past Daphne's shoulder. "Shhhh... Daphne. Look. That table over there." Daphne sighed. "Wendy, I'm trying to talk to you-" "Gray sweatshirt. Back corner. He can't take his eyes off me." Daphne glanced over casually. "Oh please, Wendy. I think he's looking at me." Wendy flipped her hair. "You wish." Suddenly, the guy in the gray sweatshirt stood and began walking toward them. Wendy gasped. "He's coming over. Oh my god-my hair's a mess. I feel sticky. Do I look sticky?" Daphne rolled her eyes. "You look... expensive. You'll survive." Carson arrived at their table-tall, charming, with a crooked smile and casual confidence. "Hi," he said, addressing them both. "I'm Carson. Carson Charles." Wendy beamed. "Hi, Carson! I'm Wendy. Wendy Gibson." She angled herself toward him. Carson smiled politely, then turned to Daphne. "And you are?" Daphne looked surprised. "Daphne." He smiled, eyes lingering on her. "That's a beautiful name." "Thank you," she replied, cheeks tinged pink. Carson extended a hand. "Daphne... would you like to dance?" Daphne hesitated for a breath, then smiled. "I'd love to." She stood, leaving Wendy blinking at the table, lips parted in disbelief. A beat later, another figure slid into the seat across from her. "Hi there," he said smoothly, pulling the chair out like he was stepping into a scene he owned. "Name's Dave. Dave Brave." Wendy glanced at him, still distracted. Dave placed a hand over his heart, dramatically. "To see a woman as stunning as you sitting alone-it hurts me. What cruel twist of fate brought you here without a partner?" Wendy barely looked at him. Her eyes followed Carson and Daphne as they danced. "Oh, shut up," she said. "Let's dance." Dave grinned wide. "I knew you couldn't resist me." He offered a hand, and Wendy took it. Daphne followed Carson onto the floor, her fingers slipping into his palm. His touch was warm, grounded. As he placed a hand gently on her waist, she felt the tension from earlier start to dissolve. "I have to admit," Carson said, his deep voice just above a whisper, "I didn't come here expecting to meet someone like you." Daphne raised an eyebrow playfully. "Someone like me?" He smiled. "Beautiful. Smart. Not trying to impress anyone... just being real." She blushed, looking down for a moment. "You don't even know me." "I'd like to," he said sincerely. They moved slowly, her head resting slightly closer to his shoulder than she'd meant it to. The world faded. All she could hear was the music and his steady breath. The music was soft, golden-two hearts swaying in rhythm. Daphne was wrapped in the warmth of Carson's embrace. His hand rested just below her shoulder blade, his eyes fixed on her like she was the only person in the room. And then... trouble arrived. "Carson!" came a bubbly voice wrapped in sugar and mischief. Wendy, heels clicking and smile stretched wide, strutted toward them-still holding Dave's hand, dragging him behind her like forgotten luggage. Daphne stiffened. "Oh my gosh," Wendy cooed. "You dance so well, Carson! Don't you just love guys who are good on their feet?" Carson blinked, a little amused. "Thanks, Wendy." Dave leaned in behind her, whispering with a smirk, "Are we crashing their moment, or just desperate for attention?" Wendy elbowed him without looking. "I was just telling Dave," she went on, fluttering her lashes at Carson, "how it's such a shame I haven't gotten a chance to dance with you yet." Daphne's eyebrow arched. "We were kind of in the middle of something." Wendy gave her a saccharine smile. "Oh, I can see that. But I mean-it's just one dance, right?" She turned to Carson, eyes wide. "What do you say?" Carson looked at Daphne, who was now giving him a very clear don't you dare look without saying a word. Dave, now fully enjoying the show, stepped aside and crossed his arms. "Oh, this is better than Netflix." "Wendy," Daphne said, her voice cool and sweet like chilled wine, "you do realize you're already dancing with someone, right?" Wendy batted her lashes. "Oh... Dave? He's just keeping my hands warm." "Ouch," Dave muttered, pretending to be stabbed in the heart. "Cold world." Carson chuckled awkwardly. "Look, Wendy... I think I'll stick with Daphne for now." Wendy's smile faltered. For a split second, her real expression flickered through-tight, stung, insecure. "Oh," she said, trying to laugh it off. "Of course. I mean, you two are so cute. Really." Dave leaned close to her ear. "Need a tissue, or should we finish our tragic waltz?" Wendy shot him a glare. "You're enjoying this too much." "You crash a party, you dance to their song," he whispered back, grinning. Daphne turned back to Carson as the music shifted to another soft tr