Adrian's world split into before-the-party and after-the-party, and navigating the after was like walking through a minefield while everyone watched.
Classes continued. Study sessions happened. The campus moved forward with its regular rhythm. But Adrian existed in a state of hyperawareness, always conscious of where Dante might be, always scanning crowds for that familiar silhouette, always bracing himself for the impact of seeing him.
The first week after the party, Adrian joined intramural basketball. Not the varsity team—he'd never been good enough for that, and besides, that was Dante's territory. But the intramural league needed players, and Adrian needed somewhere to channel the restless energy that kept him awake at night.
His teammates were a mix of guys from different dorms and majors—Chris from his floor, a junior named Tyler who was pre-law, a freshman named Dev who played just for fun. They were good people, easy to be around, quickly becoming something like found family.
The problem was, they idolized the varsity team.
"Did you see Dante Alaric's stats from last game?" Tyler said during their second practice, dribbling the ball lazily. "Twenty-eight points, twelve rebounds. The guy's insane."
"He's probably going pro after graduation," Dev added. "Scouts have been at every game."
"Lucky bastard," Chris said, shooting and missing. "Some people are just naturally gifted."
Adrian said nothing, just focused on his own drills, trying not to think about Dante's rare genuine laugh, or the way he'd looked sitting on his bed saying "I don't like Marcus, not like that."
Psychology 101 provided another unwelcome complication.
Professor Martinez had arranged for guest lecturers throughout the semester—professionals from various fields discussing real-world applications of psychological principles. Week three's speaker was Dr. Richard Chen, a prominent psychiatrist specializing in adolescent development.
Adrian was taking notes on something about identity formation when Isabella leaned over and whispered, "That's my dad."
Adrian's pen stopped mid-word. "What?"
"The lecturer. That's my father." She smiled, waving when Dr. Chen looked their way. He waved back, then continued his lecture on the psychological challenges of emerging adulthood.
Adrian sat through the rest of class in mild panic, hyper-conscious of the fact that he was semi-dating this man's daughter while having recently discovered feelings for his male roommate. Dr. Chen talked about authenticity and self-deception and the importance of honest self-examination during formative years.
The irony was not lost on Adrian.
After class, Isabella introduced them.
"Dad, this is Adrian Hayes. Adrian, my father."
"Nice to meet you, sir." Adrian shook his hand, trying to project confidence he absolutely did not feel.
"Isabella's mentioned you. Computer Science major, right?"
"Actually, I'm undeclared. Leaning toward English or Communications."
"Ah, a storyteller. We need more of those." Dr. Chen's smile was warm, genuine. "You kids should grab lunch. I have a meeting with the department head, but maybe dinner this weekend? Isabella's been wanting us to meet properly."
"That sounds great," Adrian lied, already dreading it.
The social geography of campus became a careful choreography. Adrian mapped Dante's schedule without meaning to, knew when he'd be at basketball practice, when he'd be in the library, when he'd likely be in the dining hall.
But Dante seemed to be doing the same thing, because they kept almost-running-into-each-other in ways that felt deliberate.
The coffee shop where Adrian studied with Isabella—Dante would arrive ten minutes later with Marcus.
The library third floor where Adrian had his English study group—Dante would claim a table across the room.
The campus bookstore where Adrian browsed for his next read—Dante would materialize in the same aisle, reaching for a book two shelves over.
They never spoke. Never acknowledged each other beyond brief eye contact that lasted too long and said too much.
It was torture.
Marcus Reid became a strange fixture in Adrian's awareness—not quite a rival, not quite a friend, existing in some uncomfortable space between.
Their first real conversation happened two weeks after the party, in the campus center where Adrian was buying coffee between classes.
"Adrian Hayes?"
Adrian turned to find Marcus behind him in line, basketball gym bag slung over his shoulder, wearing a varsity jacket that made him look exactly like what he was—senior, team captain, someone comfortable in their own skin.
"Marcus. Hey."
"Finally, a proper introduction." Marcus extended his hand. They shook, and Adrian tried not to think about those same hands cupping Dante's face. "I've heard a lot about you."
"Have you?"
"Oh yeah. You're the famous roommate. Dante talks about you constantly." Marcus's expression was friendly, open, with no indication he understood the complicated dynamics at play. "It's good to finally have a conversation that isn't just me carrying boxes into your room."
"Right. The move-in day chaos."
They moved up in line, ordered their coffees—black with two sugars for Marcus, which Adrian noted and hated that he noted—and ended up standing awkwardly by the condiment station.
"So, you're dating Isabella Chen?" Marcus asked. "She seems great. Smart, funny, really kind."
"Yeah, she is. We're—it's new. Still figuring things out."
"That's cool. College relationships are weird, right? Everyone's trying to figure out who they are while also trying to be with someone else." Marcus stirred his coffee absently. "But hey, if it works, it works."
Adrian studied him, trying to understand what game they were playing. Marcus seemed genuinely nice, with no hidden agenda, no competitive edge. He was just... talking. Being friendly.
Which somehow made everything worse.
"Can I ask you something?" Adrian said before his brain could stop him.
"Sure."
"You and Dante. Are you—" He didn't know how to finish that sentence without revealing too much.
Marcus's expression shifted to something more careful. "We're friends. Good friends. He's going through some stuff right now, and I'm trying to be supportive. That's all."
"That kiss at the party looked like more than friendship."
"That was—" Marcus sighed, running a hand over his short hair. "That was me misreading a situation. We talked about it after. Cleared things up. We're just friends, and that's all we're going to be."
"Oh."
"Yeah." Marcus took a sip of his coffee. "Look, I don't know what's going on between you and Dante, but whatever it is, it's clearly complicated. I'm not trying to get in the middle of that."
"There's nothing going on between me and Dante. We're just roommates."
"Right. Roommates." Marcus's tone suggested he didn't believe that for a second. "Well, if you ever want to talk about it—about anything—I'm around. I know what it's like to figure out this stuff. Came out junior year of high school, dealt with all the usual crap. It gets easier, I promise."
He left before Adrian could respond, leaving Adrian standing in the campus center wondering if that conversation had been an offering of friendship or a territorial warning or something else entirely.
Elena Vasquez made her position much clearer.
Isabella's roommate was a force of nature—five-foot-two of concentrated intensity, with dark curly hair usually pulled back in a messy bun and an expression that suggested she was perpetually three seconds from calling out someone's bullshit.
She cornered Adrian after study group one Thursday afternoon, physically blocking his exit from the library.
"We need to talk," she announced.
"About what?"
"About Isabella. About you and Isabella. About the fact that something is clearly wrong and you're pretending everything is fine."
Adrian glanced around, checking if anyone was listening. "Can we not do this here?"
"We can do this anywhere you want, but we're doing it. Pick a location."
They ended up at a bench outside the library, far enough from other students to have privacy.
Elena sat facing him, arms crossed, dark eyes sharp with protective fury. "She's my best friend. Known her since freshman year. She's brilliant and kind and deserves someone who's all-in."
"I care about Isabella," Adrian protested.
"I'm sure you do. But are you IN LOVE with her? Because she's starting to get attached, and if you're going to hurt her, I need to know now so I can prepare for cleanup."
"I'm not trying to hurt anyone."
"Nobody ever is. But intention doesn't matter when the result is the same." Elena leaned forward. "I'm going to ask you a direct question, and I need an honest answer. Are you in love with Isabella Chen?"
Adrian opened his mouth. Closed it. "I think—I could be. Given time."
"That's not a yes."
"It's complicated."
"It really isn't. Love is either there or it's not. You either feel it or you don't." Elena's expression softened slightly. "Look, I'm not trying to be harsh. But I've watched Isabella fall for guys before, and it never ends well when they're not equally invested. If you're dealing with something else—sexuality stuff, feelings for someone else, whatever—you need to be honest with her."
"I am dealing with something. I'm trying to figure it out."
"Figure it out faster, or let her go so she can find someone who isn't confused." Elena stood up. "She likes you, Adrian. Really likes you. Don't waste her time if you're not sure."
She left him on that bench, guilt settling heavy in his chest.
Sage called that night, her first words: "You're being an idiot again."
"Hello to you too. How's Portland?"
"Don't deflect. I talked to Isabella. She told me about taking a break, about you figuring things out. What are you figuring out, exactly?"
Adrian lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Dante was at basketball practice, wouldn't be back for another hour. The room felt emptier without him, which was its own revelation.
"I don't know how to do this," Adrian admitted quietly.
"Do what?"
"Any of it. Like a guy. BE with a guy. Admit that I might be bi. Deal with the fact that the guy I like has been in my life forever and I spent eighteen years thinking I hated him."
"So you're admitting it now? That you like Dante?"
"I saw him kiss Marcus and I wanted to die. I think about him constantly. I know his coffee order and his class schedule and the way he laughs when something really surprises him." Adrian's throat felt tight. "So yeah, I like him. And I have no idea what to do about that."
"Have you considered talking to him?"
"He won't talk to me. We live in the same room and we barely speak."
"Then make him talk to you. Be direct. Say 'Dante, we need to discuss the eighteen years of unresolved tension between us.' Use those exact words if you have to."
"That's terrifying."
"Love is terrifying. Get used to it." Sage's voice gentled. "But also, you need to make a decision about Isabella. You can't keep dating her while figuring out your feelings for someone else. That's not fair to any of you."
"I know. I just—what if I'm wrong? What if these feelings aren't real? What if I'm just confused because Dante's been such a constant in my life?"
"Then you figure that out without using Isabella as a shield. Break up with her, give yourself space to actually examine your feelings without outside pressure."
"That's easier said than done."
"Most important things are."
The dining hall became a stage for their unspoken drama.
Adrian had fallen into a routine—Tuesday and Thursday lunches with Isabella, Elena, and some of the intramural basketball team. They claimed a table near the windows, the group easily mixing, conversation flowing naturally.
This particular Thursday, Adrian was mid-story about their disastrous practice the night before when he felt it—that familiar prickle of awareness that meant Dante was nearby.
He looked up without meaning to, scanning the crowded dining hall.
Dante sat across the space at a table with Marcus and the varsity basketball team, at least seven guys in matching warm-up gear, laughing about something. The table radiated confidence, that easy athleticism of people who knew they were good at what they did.
Dante was laughing at something Marcus had said, head thrown back, that rare genuine laugh Adrian had cataloged years ago.
Their eyes met across fifty feet of crowded dining hall.
Neither looked away.
The moment stretched, became uncomfortable, became something everyone at both tables couldn't help but notice. The conversations around Adrian quieted, people following his gaze, seeing what he was looking at.
At Dante's table, Marcus glanced between them with raised eyebrows. The other basketball players noticed too, exchanging confused looks.
Dante's laugh died. His expression shifted to something complicated—longing mixed with frustration mixed with something that looked almost like hope.
Adrian couldn't breathe properly. Couldn't look away. Couldn't do anything except hold Dante's gaze across the crowded space and feel like the entire dining hall had disappeared, leaving just the two of them suspended in whatever this was.
"Okay," Elena said loudly, breaking the moment. "What IS that?"
Adrian tore his eyes away from Dante, finding Elena staring at him with open curiosity, Isabella looking uncomfortable, and the rest of their table watching with various degrees of interest.
"What's what?" Adrian tried, going for casual and landing somewhere near panicked.
"That." Elena gestured between Adrian and Dante's table. "That incredibly intense eye contact thing that just happened. The whole dining hall just witnessed whatever that was."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Adrian." Isabella's voice was soft, sympathetic. "Everyone can see it."
"See what?"
"The way you look at each other," Tyler from the intramural team supplied helpfully. "It's like—I don't know. Like you're having an entire conversation without words. Super intense."
"We're not—that's just—we have history. We've competed for years. There's going to be tension."
"That wasn't competitive tension," Elena said flatly. "That was something else entirely."
Chris leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Dude, are you and Dante Alaric, like... a thing?"
"No. Absolutely not. We're roommates. That's all."
But even as he said it, Adrian knew nobody believed him.
He glanced back toward Dante's table involuntarily and found Dante still watching him, expression raw and open in a way that made Adrian's chest ache.
Marcus said something to Dante, pulling his attention away. Dante responded, but his shoulders were tense, his jaw tight, his entire body radiating the same desperate confusion Adrian felt.
"This is so messy," Elena muttered, but not unkindly. "You're all so messy."
Isabella stood up abruptly. "I need to go. I have—I told my dad I'd call him before my afternoon class."
"Isabella—" Adrian started.
"It's fine. Really. I just need—I'll see you later, okay?"
She left quickly, Elena following after shooting Adrian a look that clearly said fix this.
The rest of the table dispersed gradually, making excuses, leaving Adrian sitting alone with the remains of his lunch and the uncomfortable awareness that their private drama had just become very public.
His phone buzzed.
Sage: Isabella just called me crying. Whatever you're doing, you need to stop.
Adrian looked back at Dante's table one more time.
Dante was already looking at him.