Joren stood there, hoodie half-zipped, still recovering from closet trauma and digestive betrayal. Lana’s words echoed in his head:
"Prove to it’s not a stupid idea."
He blinked at the bathroom door she’d just disappeared behind, then muttered to himself,
"Cool. No pressure. Just gotta justify ruining her relationship and going out with ."
He looked around the room like it might offer answers. It didn’t. Just a ring light, a pile of laundry, and the lingering scent of panic.
Lana reerged a few minutes later, fresh-faced, hair tied up, looking way too composed for soone who’d just dodged a boyfriend ambush. She raised an eyebrow.
"You still here?"
Joren nodded.
"Yeah. I figured disappearing right after crop-dusting your closet wouldn’t help my case."
She smirked and sat on the edge of the bed.
"So? What’s your pitch?"
He paced once, then stopped.
"Okay. Hear out. I’m not perfect. I say dumb things. I eat questionable food. I panic in closets. But—"
He pointed at her.
"—I make you laugh. I listen. I don’t play gas. And I’m already into you."
Lana tilted her head.
"That’s nice and all. But you also just helped cheat."
Joren winced.
"Right. That part’s bad. But maybe it happened because we’re beginning to have a thing for each other?"
She didn’t respond right away. Just stared at him, unreadable.
He stepped closer.
"Let take you out. Like, properly. No secrets. Just us."
Lana looked up at him, eyes sharp.
"One date. That’s all you get."
Joren grinned.
"I’ll take it."
She leaned back on the bed, still watching him.
"Don’t screw it up."
"I won’t,"
Joren replied, turning toward the door.
She watched him go, a look of interest spreading across her face.
Joren stepped out into the night air, hoodie zipped up, hands in his pockets. It wasn’t late-late, but the campus had that quiet hum—people still walking around, laughing in small groups.
He passed a couple making out near the vending machines and muttered,
"Okay, universe. I get it. Everyone’s getting action tonight."
When he reached his dorm, he tapped his keycard and pushed the door open, expecting the usual ss: half-eaten snacks, socks in weird places, maybe Dale passed out watching ani.
Instead, he froze.
Dale was on his bed, shirt off, tangled up with soone Joren didn’t recognize. It wasn’t full-on sex, but it was definitely foreplay. Hands were moving. Mouths were busy. Clothes were halfway gone.
Joren blinked. "Oh. Okay. Cool. Love that for though."
Dale looked up mid-kiss, eyes glassy.
"Bro! You’re back!"
The girl turned too, cheeks flushed. She gave Joren a quick once-over, then went back to nibbling Dale’s neck like she was trying to download his soul.
Joren raised a hand.
"Don’t mind . Just passing through."
Dale laughed, clearly tipsy.
"Her na’s Eve. She’s from the psych departnt. She thinks I have unresolved trauma."
Eve giggled.
"I said you have commitnt issues."
Joren dropped his bag by the desk, trying not to look directly at them.
"Cool. I’ll just be over here, pretending this isn’t happening."
Dale reached for a half-empty bottle of sothing questionable and held it up.
"You want a drink?"
Joren shook his head. "I’m good."
Eve looked at him, curious. "Bad date?"
Joren snorted. "Sothing like that."
Dale blinked.
"Dude. You need to write a moir."
Joren flopped onto his bed, face-first.
"Chapter one: I walked in on my roommate getting psychoanalyzed via tongue."
Dale raised the bottle.
"To healing."
Joren groaned into his pillow.
"To silence."
He rolled onto his side, pulling the blanket over his head like it could shield him from the chaos of the day. His body ached, his brain was still replaying Lana’s challenge, and the faint scent of Dale’s cologne lingered in the air. But despite it all, his lips curled into a tired smile. Sohow, he’d survived a boyfriend ambush and landed a maybe-date with the girl he helped cheat. Sleep ca slowly, but when it did, it ca with dreams that slled like vanilla and sounded suspiciously like "Prove it."
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