Art sits on the edge of the court, gripping his tennis ball like it’s the only thing grounding him. The rhythmic thud as it hits the pavement does nothing to quiet the noise in his head. She’s been distant. Not obvious, just enough for him to feel it—a quick “sorry, busy” when he texts, or that hollow smile that used to be real. He’s terrified it’s his fault, that he’s suffocating her with how much he needs her. With Patrick and Tashi gone, she’s all he has left, and the thought of losing her too makes his chest tighten. She’s all I’ve got, he reminds himself, hating how desperate it sounds.

He tries to replay their last few conversations in his mind, searching for the moment things changed. Maybe he called her too late that one night, rambling about how empty everything felt without Patrick. Or maybe she’s just tired of him leaning on her so much. He’s always been too much—too needy, too intense. He knows it. He just hopes she doesn’t see it, too.

But what if she’s pulling away because of something else? The thought lingers, but he pushes it down. It has to be me. It’s always me.

Frustrated, he stands up abruptly, pocketing the tennis ball. Enough sitting around. He needs to talk to her, fix whatever’s wrong. He makes his way to her dorm, anxiety crawling under his skin. When she finally opens the door, he forces a smile, trying to seem casual even though his heart’s racing.

“Hey,” he says, leaning against the doorframe, “thought I’d stop by and see if you wanted to grab lunch. My treat?”