It was a Friday night, and the campus seemed alive with the kind of energy that only young people could create — music spilling from every room, laughter bouncing off walls, the clinking of red cups as freedom and mischief mixed in the air.
Bella had dragged Abby along, insisting she needed to "live a little." Abby had protested at first, claiming she wasn't much of a party girl. But something in her wanted to forget the routine of lectures, assignments, and her own quiet overthinking. Tonight, she wanted to just… exist in the moment.
The house glowed with dim lights, Afrobeats pulsating through the floorboards. Abby stayed close to Bella at first, laughing at her friend's loud commentary on everyone around them. But then she saw him.
Jonathan.
He was leaning casually against a doorway, Silas beside him, both of them laughing at some private joke. For a second, the world blurred around Abby. She didn't move, didn't speak. Her heart thudded. The boy who had haunted her childhood memories was standing right there, taller, confident, but still the Jonathan she had remembered.
"Abby?" His voice was soft, almost tentative, like he wasn't sure if she was real.
She smiled, a little dizzy from the music and perhaps a sip too many of whatever Bella had handed her. "Jonathan. You again?"
Bella, ever the instigator, nudged her. "Your man's here. Go talk to him."
Abby rolled her eyes. "He's not my—"
"Yet," Bella cut in with a grin.
Minutes passed as the music thumped louder. Abby laughed, spun with her friends, but the dizziness started creeping in, subtle but persistent. She stumbled slightly, her head spinning. Jonathan noticed immediately, leaving the crowd and reaching her just before she fell.
"Hey, slow down," he said, steadying her. His hands brushed hers, sending a tiny shock through her body.
"I'm fine," she mumbled, though her breath came uneven, her vision slightly unfocused.
"Come on," Jonathan said softly, guiding her upstairs, away from the crowd, to a quiet spare room. The music was muffled here, the dim light soft on her face. Abby sat on the edge of the bed, shaking off the dizziness, while Jonathan poured her some water.
Their hands touched again, lingering this time. Abby's gaze met his, and for a heartbeat, everything else disappeared. The memory of childhood, of laughter, of scraped knees, and of feelings she hadn't fully understood collided in her chest.
"Jonathan…" she whispered, voice trembling.
"Yeah?" he replied, careful, his own heart thudding.
"I—" she started, words faltering into a shy, broken laugh. "Forget it."
And then, in a moment that felt suspended in time, she leaned closer, not entirely herself, not entirely drunk, and whispered, "Why do you still look at me like that?"
Jonathan froze, every instinct telling him to lean in, to say something that might change everything. But he didn't. He just held the memory in his chest as Abby, exhausted, finally collapsed onto the bed, asleep.
Outside, the music continued, life went on, but inside that quiet room, a secret had been spoken — and only Jonathan would remember it.