My best friend set his sights on the reigning queen of Alden University, relentlessly pursuing her for weeks. She wouldn’t even spare him a passing glance. Feeling too pathetic dying on this hill alone, he tried to pawn her best friend off on me—the resident sickly shut-in. I pointed to my chronically pale lips. "Marcus, do I look like I have the stamina to court someone?" He just patted my shoulder with the solemnity of a slick-haired preacher. "Romance is good for your cardiovascular health, Eden." Eventually, Marcus decided to give up the chase. Naturally, I stopped mine too. That was when the campus queen texted my best friend, her tone utterly exhausted: Fine, I’ll go out with you. Just make your friend unblock my best friend. I'm drowning in her tears over here. 01 Ever since my best friend, Marcus, attended a guest lecture at Alden University last month, he had been profoundly, irritatingly obsessed with Valerie, the school’s untouchable IT girl. He made up his mind to win her over, dedicating weeks to the pursuit. The girl was carved from ice; she didn't so much as look in his direction. Yet, rejection only seemed to fuel his delusion. It was like a sickness. "This is exactly the kind of woman I need, Eden," he’d declare, pacing the floor. "If she’s too easy to get, I won’t cherish her later." Because of my perpetually poor health, my parents rented a quiet off-campus apartment for me. Marcus moved in to keep an eye on me. We were a package deal. It was past nine on a Tuesday night. A cold, rhythmic rain beat against the windows. Marcus burst through the front door, dropping a pile of shopping bags, his face twisted in utter indignation. He kicked off his soaked loafers, his voice echoing in the hallway. "Damn it all. Why is Valerie so impossibly immune? I wore my killer crimson blazer today, the lucky one. I looked devastating. But she’s like a damn saint. Completely unfazed." I dragged my eyes away from the movie playing on my laptop, taking in the sight of Marcus standing there in a dripping red suit. "If she’s that impossible to reach, maybe look somewhere else?" I suggested softly. "It’s not like you have a shortage of people throwing themselves at you." "No, no, no." He padded over to the fridge, pulled out a soda, and slumped onto the sofa, cracking it open. "Valerie isn’t like the rest of them. Just looking at her makes my heart do this… this crazy flip. And besides..." He covered his mouth, a dopey, lovesick grin spreading across his face. "Her body is insane. I went to watch her dance rehearsal last time. She has these killer abs, that sharp V-cut, straight out of an anime. Kissing her would be an absolute religious experience." I turned my attention back to the screen, entirely unable to comprehend the chaotic inner workings of a man drowning in unrequited lust. "Hey!" He bumped his shoulder against mine, a sly, dangerous glint in his eye. "Let me show you a picture." Before I could protest, he unlocked his phone, pulled up a photo, and shoved the screen into my face. I took it, mildly curious. A girl stared back at me. Her gaze was chillingly cool, her features bright but aggressively sharp, with an intimidating arch to her eyebrows. It looked like a screenshot he’d stolen from Valerie’s social media. "What about it?" "Eden. Do you like her?" Marcus and I had been joined at the hip since childhood. I could read the twitch of his brow before he even opened his mouth. I pointed to my pale, bloodless lips. "Marcus, do I look like I have the stamina to court someone?" His eyes sparkled. He grabbed my hands, holding them tightly. "Eden, listen to me. These two girls are attached at the hip. We need someone to divide and conquer. Plus, chasing Valerie all by myself is just… really lonely." He gave me his best puppy-dog eyes, his tone shifting into earnest desperation. "Just keep me company in the trenches. Besides, getting your heart racing a little is good for your health." The movie played on in the background, the protagonist’s voice cutting through the silence: I can't believe I'm buying into your twisted logic! A second later, his phone pinged. Marcus instantly forwarded me the girl’s contact. "Trust me, Eden. You have to give this a shot. She… well, she looks a little fierce, but she’s actually really sweet." I let out a long, heavy sigh. "Fine." "God, I love you!" He lunged forward to hug me, then abruptly froze, realizing he was still drenched in rainwater and hair product. "Wait, let me shower first, then I’ll squeeze the life out of you. Wait for me!" I just stared at him. While he was in the shower, I tapped the link to add her, only to realize I was already on her friends list. Huh? I lowered my eyes, studying the girl’s profile picture. It was Snorlax from Pokémon. My own screen name was a bit embarrassing, a relic from my teenage years: SleepyPuff. My icon was Jigglypuff. I just wanted to live a simple, well-fed, deeply sleepy life, completely free of worries. Her screen name was CheeryPuff. My finger hovered over the glass screen. Anyone who loves vintage Pokémon can’t be a bad person, I reasoned with myself. By the time Marcus emerged from the bathroom, I had already switched the movie to My Neighbor Totoro. I didn’t have many hobbies outside of staying alive, but getting lost in animation and cinema was my sanctuary. "Eden, did you add her?" He walked out aggressively towel-drying his hair, wearing nothing but a faded tank top. "Yeah," I mumbled, my eyes glued to the magical creatures on screen. Suddenly, a thought struck me. I scratched my head. "Wait, am I supposed to announce my intentions? Like, 'Hello, I will be pursuing you now'?" "Hmm…" He leaned against the wall, pondering. "Ask her if there’s anyone she likes right now. If she says no, you hit her with: 'Would you mind if I took that spot?'" "What?" My face scrunched up in pure disgust. "That sounds incredibly cheesy. Is this seriously how you hit on people?" "Look, there are a million complicated mind games out there. A raw, unpolished line like this will make her think you’re pure and innocent. Do exactly as I say. It’s foolproof." "It’s called… laying the groundwork." Despite my overwhelming skepticism, I tapped out the message: Hi. Do you have someone you like right now? I set the phone face down, expecting it to take hours. I was just settling back into the movie when the screen immediately lit up. "?" "Marcus," I panicked quietly, "what if she just sends a question mark?" Before I could even voice the question aloud, a second message popped up. No. A shiver ran down my spine. Marcus peered over my shoulder. "Copy exactly what I told you. I’m gonna go blow-dry my hair." "Okay." Her message: Why do you ask? I typed: Would you mind if I took that spot? The moment I hit send, I threw the phone onto the cushions in sheer agony. God, the cringe was physical. The phone stayed silent. I forced my attention back to the movie. When Marcus returned, hair perfectly styled, he flopped onto the sofa next to me. "Well? How’d it go?" "She left me on read," I said honestly. He grit his teeth, staring at the ceiling. For a second, I thought he was having an epiphany about his own terrible flirting strategies. Instead, he sighed, "It’s fine. That’s normal. Valerie didn't reply to my first text either." I stared at him in silence. I wanted to tell him that she probably didn't reply because the line was a radioactive level of cringe, leaving her paralyzed with secondhand embarrassment. Marcus had a group project to work on, so he booted up his laptop to edit some video slides. I picked up my phone to check the time, and my breath hitched. Marcus spoke up, "By the way, her name is Morgan." Morgan: Wait, what do you mean? I don’t just accept anyone’s feelings. Morgan: I’m not that kind of easy girl. Morgan: Are you saying you actually like me? There was a one-minute gap after those texts. She was probably waiting for my reply, which never came because my phone was face down. Morgan: Actually, I’m pretty easy. Are you trying to court me? Morgan: I’m really easy to catch. Another minute passed. She was panicking. Morgan: If you like me, let’s just date. Morgan: I'm sorry, I was playing hard to get just now. Morgan: Are you busy? Can you reply when you see this? Morgan: It's been ten seconds. Still busy? Morgan: I messed up. I should be the one pursuing you. You don't have to lift a finger. Please text me back? Morgan: I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have acted so detached. I was just so excited, I asked my best friend what to say, and she told me to play it cool. Morgan: She said if I said yes too fast, you wouldn't cherish me. Morgan: Baby, I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad. Morgan: The truth is, baby, I’ve liked you for a really long time. I just didn't know how to tell you. I had no idea you liked me too. I sat there. Utterly speechless. "What's wrong?" Marcus asked, not looking away from his screen. "Did she reply?" I pressed my lips together in a tight line. "Chasing someone usually requires them to reject you first, right?" I asked carefully. "Yes, exactly." Then what on earth is happening right now? A sudden spark of inspiration hit me. I typed: Reject me. If she rejected me, I would have a legitimate excuse to pursue her. Then I wouldn't be leaving my best friend alone in the trenches. Morgan immediately fired back a crying meme: No! I don’t want to reject you! I was wrong, okay? I want to go back in time and strangle the version of me that tried to play it cool. I shouldn’t have listened to my friend. I know I messed up. You can yell at me, just please don’t leave me. I rubbed my temples. No. Reject me, so I can chase you. This time, the reply didn’t come as quickly. The "typing..." bubble pulsed at the top of the screen for what felt like an eternity. Finally, a cautious message appeared: Baby, is this some kind of roleplay thing? Promise me you won't actually leave me. How long do you plan on chasing me? Give me a timeline so I can emotionally prepare. I glanced over at my fiercely focused best friend and typed: I don't know yet. Okay, baby. I reject you. That rejection only applies to the roleplay, not to my actual feelings for you. Seeing that, I finally turned to Marcus with a straight face. "She rejected me." Marcus leaned over, clapping my shoulder. "It’s fine. We have to be resilient. I’ll teach you the advanced pursuit tactics later." Then, I watched in abject horror as he cleared his throat, put on his deepest, most affected voice, and sent a voice memo to Valerie: Could you save two seats for me and my friend tomorrow? I really want a front-row view of you playing basketball. I quietly opened a browser tab and searched: How to woo a girl. The top results from a dating blog laid out a few key points: a. Master the push-and-pull. Don't be too eager. b. Match her energy. If she runs hot, you run hot. If she goes cold, ice her out. c. Maintain an aura of innocent charm. d. Never act desperate. I looked at Marcus. "Did you get your dating advice from the internet?" "Ha." He confidently ran a hand through his hair. "Do I look like a guy who needs to steal someone else’s playbook?" No wonder you’ve been single so long, I thought. My mentor is a certified disaster. 02 The next afternoon, right after our last class, Marcus expertly navigated us to the Northridge College campus. By the time we arrived, the dance studio was already packed. His eyes lit up the moment he spotted someone. He waved frantically over the crowd. "Valerie!" I was still scanning the sea of bodies when he practically dragged me forward. The girl was wearing a sleek white performance outfit, her expression completely detached. I hadn't actually seen Valerie in person before, only through the obsessive lens of Marcus's camera roll. Because of my fragile immune system, I rarely ventured into crowded spaces. "Eden, if you start feeling faint, tell me immediately. The air is pretty stagnant in here," he whispered, suddenly shifting into protective-brother mode. "I'm fine," I signed with an okay gesture. We were just about to back away to the bleachers when we heard Valerie turn to the other dancers. "Where's Morgan?" "No idea, haven't seen her all day." A second later, a girl near the entrance gasped, pointing a shaking finger toward the door. "Holy crap, that absolute vision cannot be Morgan!" Every head in the room instinctively swiveled. A tall girl stepped into the frame. She had fresh, silver-blonde highlights woven through her dark hair, a sleek silver stud catching the light on her left ear. She radiated an effortlessly beautiful, razor-sharp energy. "What… what did she do? Did she skip practice just to get her hair done?" "Who provoked her this time?" From the moment Morgan walked in, her eyes darted furiously across the room until they finally locked onto my pale pink sweater in the crowd. No, I have to play the part, she must have reminded herself. Her determined stride toward me abruptly veered off-course halfway across the floor. Marcus was just about to pull me toward the seats when a guy jogged up and clapped Valerie on the shoulder. "Hey, Valerie, where's the seat you saved for me?" The guy had a clean, preppy haircut and a small entourage of equally loud guys trailing behind him. "Who is that?" I asked quietly. The bright smile on Marcus’s face instantly died. "Her childhood friend. They grew up together." I might not socialize much, but I consumed romance novels like they were keeping me alive. The scent of a toxic, boundary-crossing orbiter hit me instantly. A single phrase flashed in my mind: The 'Just a Friend' Guy. "Um…" Morgan had inevitably gravitated toward me, desperate to speak, but before she could formulate a sentence, Marcus grabbed my wrist and pulled me away. His mood had plummeted. "Out of sight, out of mind," he muttered darkly. I glanced back over my shoulder, catching Morgan’s devastatingly pitiful gaze. She looked exactly like my mother’s golden retriever right after being told she couldn't have table scraps. "Over there. Go sit yourself down," Valerie pointed out a row of seats to Spencer, the preppy guy. Morgan, looking absolutely murderous, intentionally shoved her shoulder hard against Valerie’s as she walked past. Valerie stumbled slightly, blinking in shock. "Did you eat gunpowder for breakfast?" Morgan silently stripped off her oversized jacket. A couple of guys tried to approach her, but one sweep of her frigid glare froze them in their tracks. … In the bleachers, I tentatively probed Marcus. "How does she treat that guy?" Marcus shot me a defeated look, his lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't know how to explain it. It’s just… wherever Valerie is, he is." Speak of the devil. Spencer and his entourage swaggered over to our section. Valerie was truly a piece of work. She had reserved an entire row. The words I wanted to say died in my throat. Sigh. The spectator sees the game best. Right before the performance started, my phone buzzed with rapid-fire texts from Morgan. Why didn’t you talk to me? I thought you were supposed to be chasing me? Are you giving up? Can I chase you now instead? I'm going on stage in a second. You have to keep your eyes on me. I looked up from the screen just as Morgan glanced up at the stands, her eyes locking onto mine. The guys next to me immediately started whispering. "Morgan keeps looking up here. Spencer, is she looking at you?" "Man, I’m so jealous you grew up with two absolute goddesses." Spencer’s cheeks flushed slightly, a sickeningly smug gleam in his eyes. "Oh, come on, it’s not like that." Marcus let out a loud, derisive scoff next to me. I calmly broke eye contact, and the corners of Morgan’s mouth instantly turned down into a pout. Once the music started, I completely lost myself in the performance. I genuinely loved watching dance. The room was filled with gasps of admiration, applause, and whispered debates about who had the best technique. Suddenly, Morgan executed a flawless, brutally difficult sequence of rapid pirouettes, sending the entire gymnasium into a frenzy. The girl’s face was flushed with exertion, the sleek lines of her exposed arms flexing with a mesmerizing grace. She instinctively looked up at our section again, drawing more hushed gasps from the crowd around me. "Is her girlfriend sitting up here or something? She keeps staring right at us." To my right, someone sighed enviously. "Spencer, if both Valerie and Morgan wanted you, who would you even pick?" "They’re both so stunning. That’s an impossible choice!" "Oh, stop it, you guys, just watch the show," Spencer deflected, basking in the attention. Marcus leaned over and mouthed the word, Poser. When the showcase ended, Marcus turned to me, panic in his eyes. "Eden, don't move a muscle. Stay exactly right here. I’ll be right back." With that, he bolted toward the backstage area with a bottle of water clutched in his hand. Spencer was already long gone, naturally. I sat obediently in the empty bleachers. Against the flow of the departing crowd, a girl pushing her way up the steps caught my eye. She had changed into street clothes, her hairline still damp with sweat. I didn't blink as Morgan closed the distance and dropped into the empty seat beside me. Seeing me, a slow, breathtaking smile spread across her face. "I thought you were courting me? Where's my water?" "I'm sorry. This is my first time chasing someone. I lack experience." My voice was soft, airy, but my eyes held absolutely zero remorse. Morgan was still breathing heavily from the routine. Hearing my response, she let out a breathless, exasperated laugh. She tilted her head back, taking a long pull from her own water bottle. She was already devastatingly cool, but right now, with the corners of her eyes tinted red and a post-adrenaline flush on her cheeks, she looked dangerously intoxicating. She wiped her mouth, dropping her head in defeat as she leaned in close. "Stop torturing me, baby." "Can we just make it public right now?" The heat radiating off her skin carried the sharp, clean scent of sweat and adrenaline. I instinctively leaned back. "Sit up straight." I tapped her shoulder with one finger. Tilting my head, I asked softly, "You like me?" She immediately snapped to attention, nodding with frantic sincerity. "But…" I let the word hang, pointing down toward the gym floor where Spencer was marching toward the backstage area. "What is your relationship with him? I heard you two were childhood sweethearts." Morgan’s dark, obsidian eyes locked onto mine as she scrambled to explain. "Valerie, him, and I did grow up together, yes. But we are strictly platonic. Literally just friends." "Really…" I shifted my gaze past her shoulder. Spencer, looking livid, was stomping up the bleachers toward us. He glared at me before hissing through gritted teeth, "Morgan!" "Where the hell did you go? I searched the entire backstage for you! Wow, choosing a pretty face over your best friends, huh? Unbelievable!" I stared at the two of them in utter silence. Morgan’s jaw clenched. She turned her head slightly away. "I already told you, Spencer. I don't drink water given to me by anyone. Except my partner." "I… how can you compare me to anyone else? We grew up together! What’s the big deal about me bringing you water? Are you saying the second you get a partner, we can't even be friends anymore?" Instantly, Spencer’s eyes went red. He bit his lip, playing the absolute picture of a wounded victim. I looked calmly at Morgan. "I never said you couldn't be friends once you have a partner. I just said there needs to be boundaries." Spencer’s teary eyes snapped to me. His voice wavered with a perfectly engineered tremor. "I didn't see you there earlier. I didn't realize you were her partner. I'm so sorry if I made you misunderstand." Wow. Coming right out of the gate, slapping the 'jealous, unreasonable girlfriend' label on me. I spent my life locked in my room reading hundreds of novels where the female lead mathematically dismantled toxic orbiters. I just never had the chance to test it in the field. Until now. The theory was about to meet practice. I mentally rolled up my sleeves. But Morgan beat me to it. She scowled, her voice dropping to a dangerous register. "What the hell are you talking about? She hasn't agreed to be my girlfriend yet, but honestly, the way you're talking right now is pissing me off." Spencer’s face froze. He literally forgot to keep fake-crying. Right on cue, Marcus called me. "Eden, let's go." I grabbed Marcus’s bag from the seat and stood up. Morgan looked up at me, panic and desperation swirling in her eyes. I smiled, pulling a fresh bottle of water out of Marcus’s bag. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Spencer watching. I handed it to Morgan. "Here." Morgan’s amber eyes practically lit up like floodlights. Her knuckles grazed mine as she snatched the bottle. "We’re going out to celebrate later. Do you and Marcus want to come?" I stepped around the benches, stopping right in front of Spencer, with Morgan trailing obediently behind me like a shadow. I smiled at him. "Excuse me, classmate. You're blocking the way." Spencer ground his teeth together and stepped aside. I walked a few paces down the stairs, then glanced back over my shoulder. I gave Morgan a brilliant, lingering smile. "See you next time, Morgan." When I reached the bottom of the bleachers, I grabbed a shell-shocked Marcus by the sleeve and dragged him toward the exit. He whipped his head around, staring in disbelief at Morgan, who was glued to her spot, watching me leave like a sailor watching a lighthouse. He looked back at me. "Holy... what did you do? How did you train a wolf into a golden retriever in five minutes?" "Secret."
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