Chapter 5: When the Feeling Fades
Early class the next day.
My alarm blared, dragging me out of sleep. I stumbled to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face.
“Lila, do you know the big shot in the computer science department?” my roommate asked.
She leaned over, eyes wide with curiosity.
“Yeah, he’s my brother’s classmate.”
I tried to sound nonchalant, but my cheeks warmed.
“Is he transferring? I heard he’s going to another school—so impressive.”
Transferring?
“Yeah, the upperclassmen were talking about it. He won’t be teaching undergrads anymore,” another classmate said. “Hope he keeps his hair with all that research.”
I smiled, picturing Dr. Morgan hunched over a stack of papers, hair sticking up in every direction.
“Going to the dining hall?” my roommate asked.
The dining hall was packed. I carried my tray of mac and cheese, looking for my roommate.
The smell of coffee and syrup filled the air, students chattering over half-finished homework.
Instead, I spotted Autumn and Savannah at a corner table. Savannah was laughing, Autumn staring into his coffee.
Savannah was trying to cheer him up, but he barely responded.
His eyes were distant, unfocused. I wondered what he was thinking.
“Hey, it’s Lila!”
The senior from last time waved me over, way more enthusiastic than before. I couldn’t dodge him.
He grinned, patting the seat next to him. I hesitated, glancing around for my roommate.
Autumn followed his gaze, looking at me—his face shifted from blank to angry in seconds, like he’d put on a different mask.
I knew him too well.
This was the look he gave when he thought I’d done something wrong and needed to coax him.
He still stubbornly believed I’d always come crawling back.
No matter what he did.
As long as he got mad and waved me over, I’d go back.
“Come sit! The dining hall’s packed.”
He grabbed my tray and slid it onto the seat across from Autumn.
“No thanks, I’m with a friend.”
I kept my voice light, but firm.
“So what? I’ll find another chair for you.” He ran off to do just that.
I stood there, not moving, still looking for my roommate.
“Friend?” Autumn sneered. “He just buys you this?”
What did that mean?
I looked at his sour face.
“Dr. Morgan just takes you to the dining hall?”
Oh.
He thought my friend was Dr. Morgan.
“What’s wrong with the dining hall? It’s clean and cheap,” I said, sitting down. “Don’t you take Savannah here too?”
“I paid for myself, so it doesn’t count,” Savannah said.
She winked at me, lips curling in a half-smile.
“Oh.” I smiled. “That’s not great—making her pay for herself.”
Autumn stuck one hand in his pocket, looking indifferent. “Savannah isn’t like you. She’s thrifty and doesn’t care about material things. She knows what she wants and goes for it.”
He stared into my eyes. “Not like some people—who say they’re done liking someone, and just move on.”
His words were sharp, but I refused to let them land.
My roommate spotted me and ran over with her burger. “Wow, you actually got a seat.” She slid in beside me, grinning.
Autumn saw it was my roommate, looked surprised, and straightened up.
He cleared his throat, suddenly self-conscious.
“And this is?” my roommate asked.
“My high school senior, Autumn Sullivan,” I said calmly, “and his girlfriend, Savannah Pierce.”
It was the first time I’d introduced him like that.
And the first time I’d called Savannah his girlfriend.
He dropped his guard, staring at me in disbelief. His eyes searched mine, but I didn’t flinch.
I met his gaze and said, sincerely,
“Congratulations. This is great.”
I meant it. For the first time, I really meant it.
“This is great, Autumn. When I get into your college, I’ll be able to see you in Chicago.”
That winter break in senior year was one of the few times I saw Autumn.
I told him excitedly about my practice exam scores. “I’ve improved a lot this time.”
He patted my head. “Good girl, I’m gaming—let’s talk later.”
“What game?”
“You wouldn’t get it.”
Later, I found out that the winter break I treasured so much was also the break he spent gaming with Savannah.
The realization stung, but I let it go. I was done holding onto old hurts.
“Wow, you were really naive.”
Late-night dorm talks, my roommate sighed. “If it were me, I’d hate myself for being such a doormat.”
She said it kindly, but I heard the sting in her words.
“It wasn’t that bad,” another roommate said. “We were young, easy to fall for jerks.”
“Yeah, we didn’t know any better,” my roommate asked me, “so how do you feel about it now?”
Now?
I lay on my side, thinking for a long time.
Eventually, the only sound in the dorm was everyone breathing in their sleep.
My phone buzzed with a new message. I checked it.
“Tomorrow at 11:30, I’ll pick you up at the east gate.”
Dr. Morgan texted.
My brother said that after Dr. Morgan transferred, he was swamped with work and hardly seen.
But he still wanted to take me out for good food.
“Will you be up? If not, we can go in the afternoon.”
He sent another message.
“Sure.”
I typed, “Are you still at the lab?”
“Yeah.”
It was 12:30.
“Are you super busy? We can reschedule.”
“Can I call you?” he asked.
I tiptoed out of bed and quietly opened the door.
“Where are you going?” my roommate peeked out from her curtain.
“Shh!” I hushed her, not wanting to wake the others.
“They’re all up,” she pointed at the others. “I’m gaming, they’re on TikTok or Amazon Live. Who sleeps at 12:30?”
“This discount is barely better than usual.”
Through the curtains, I saw everyone’s phones glowing in the dark.
“I’m making a call.”
I closed the door and went to the laundry room at the end of the hall.
The washing machines were still running.
“Hello.”
I whispered.
“Sorry, I forgot you were in the dorm,” his voice was low and a little hoarse, but still gentle. “Did I wake anyone?”
“A little, so I can’t talk long.”
“Okay, just a bit.”
We were both quiet for a while—just the static on the line between us.
“Dr. Morgan, that painting in your living room wasn’t mine,” I said, gripping my phone. “My brother lied—it was a classmate who borrowed my sketchbook.”
That idiot had hung it up for years.
If my classmate knew how much it meant to him, she’d be touched.
“It’s really ugly,” I whispered. “You should take it down.”
He chuckled. “I traded a month’s worth of lunch money for it in high school.”
“Sorry you went hungry for a month.”
I thought he’d say it wasn’t my fault, but instead he just said, “Then you’ll have to eat with me tomorrow.” His voice was warm, teasing. I smiled into the phone.
“But you need to rest.”
“Yeah, that’s why I need you.”
The words lingered, soft and sweet.
After hanging up, I tiptoed back to bed.
“Ugh, what a trash teammate—can’t even play jungle, wants me to carry them,” my roommate was cursing at her game.
My phone was still warm in my hand when I crawled back into bed.
“I don’t feel anything anymore.”
“Huh?” my roommate poked her head out. “What did you say?”
I really don’t feel anything for Autumn anymore.
Not hate, not resentment.
Nothing.
Because he’s not worth it.
If we hadn’t talked about feelings tonight, I wouldn’t even have remembered him.
When did he go from being the person I thought about every day to someone I didn’t even realize I hadn’t thought about in ages?
When do you really get over a failed crush?
It’s not when you delete their number, or say goodbye. It’s on some random night, after you’ve washed your hair and are lying in bed, joking about it with your roommates.
He really doesn’t matter anymore.
“If this one doesn’t work, just find another,” another roommate told the gamer. “It’s just a game—if your jungler sucks, I’ll carry you. Who needs a man?”
Their laughter filled the room, warm and easy.
At eleven, I was already waiting at the east gate.
After days of rain, the air was damp.
Last night, under my roommates’ questioning, I’d admitted I was meeting Dr. Morgan for lunch.
The roommate who never got up early dragged herself out of bed to do my makeup.
The three of them fussed over me, and when they were done, they all went, “Wow.”
Their excitement was infectious. I left the dorm feeling lighter than I had in weeks.
So I arrived half an hour early.













