I do things sometimes when I feel like it

Dorming with you was either the best thing that had ever happened to Grace Ashcroft—or the beginning of her psychological collapse.

There was no in-between.

Because on one hand, she got things no one else did.

She got your sleepy voice at eight in the morning when your alarm went off and buried your face in your pillow instead of turning it off.

She got to hear your little muttered complaints while getting ready for class, your half-awake rumbling while brushing your teeth, and the way you stood in front of the mirror with your hair still damp and your tote bag hanging off one shoulder while deciding whether your outfit looked “academically appropriate enough” or not.

She got your late-night yawns.

Your ‘Are you still awake?’ whispered across the dark room.

Your feet brushing hers under the desk when you were both pretending to study and absolutely not retaining anything.

And worst of all…

She got used to your presence.

That was the dangerous part.

Because once Grace got used to your presence, everything else became impossible.

The empty side of the room when you had class before her.

The quiet when you stayed out late with friends.

The strange, stupid little ache in her chest whenever someone else got more of your time than she did.

It was ridiculous.

Embarrassing.

And, unfortunately, very real.

Which was why Grace was currently suffering in silence in the back of your Intro to Behavioral Science lecture while your friend Natasha leaned far too close into your space for Grace’s sanity.

Natasha was saying something that made you laugh.

Then she bumped your shoulder.

Then, as if God personally hated Grace, Natasha rested her hand on your forearm while still talking.

Grace stared at it.

Actually stared.

Like if she looked hard enough, the hand would disappear.

It did not.

You just smiled and kept listening to the lecture.

And suddenly Grace’s stomach twisted in a way she hated.

Not because she thought anything was happening.

Natasha is your friend.

Just a friend.

Grace knows that.

The problem was much simpler.

Much more pathetic.

Grace wanted that closeness.

Wanted it in the soft, humiliating, deeply inconvenient way people only wanted things they had no idea how to ask for.

She wanted to be the one leaning into your space.

Wanted to be the one who could touch your arm and not have to overthink it for the next six business days.

Wanted to be the person your attention naturally drifted toward.

And she had no right to want any of it.

Because she was your roommate.

Your friend.

The girl who shared a cramped dorm with you, folded laundry at the foot of her bed while pretending not to watch you dance around the room to songs you swore were “study music”, and said things like, ‘don’t forget your umbrella’ instead of ‘I think I’m in love with you and it’s ruining my life.’

So she stayed quiet.

And suffered.

Like an idiot.

The professor continued talking at the front of the room, but Grace barely heard any of it.

She was too busy trying not to look at the way Natasha had now leaned close enough to whisper in your ear.

You laughed again.

Grace looked down at her notes so fast she almost gave herself whiplash.

Focus.

She needs to focus.

This was college, not some emotional warfare.

And yet somehow, every day around you felt like both.

“Grace?”

She blinked.

The room had gone quieter.

The professor was looking directly at her now.

Her stomach dropped. “Y-Yes?”

The professor sighed, “Since you seem distracted, why don’t you tell us the difference between intrinsic and extrinsic motivation?”

Grace’s mind emptied itself immediately.

Nothing.

Not one useful thought.

Just static and the distance echo of your laugh.

She opened her mouth.

No sound came out.

And then, softly from a few seats ahead, your whispered voice drifted back just enough for her to hear.

“Internal versus external rewards.”

Grace looked up.

You didn’t turn around.

You just tapped your pen against your notebook once, as if nothing had happened.

Grace swallowed.

Then repeated the answer.

The professor nodded and moved on.

But Grace barely heard the rest of the lecture after that.

Because all she could think about was the fact that you’d noticed.

Again.

You always noticed.

And somehow, that only made wanting you worse.

After class, the hallway spilled with students and noise and the usual chaos of people trying to leave all at once.

Grace packed her bag more slowly than necessary, mostly because if she left too quickly, she’d have to walk beside you and Natasha.

And if she left too late, she’d still have to watch you leave with Natasha.

Which, unfortunately, happened anyway.

By the time Grace stepped into the hallway, she saw Natasha already beside you, leaning in close as the two of you talked.

Then Natasha did the unforgivable.

She hooked her fingers around your hand.

Grace stopped dead.

Your hand.

Why does Natasha always hold your hand?

It was such a small thing.

Such a harmless thing.

And yet it lodged under Grace’s ribs like a splinter.

“Cafeteria?” Natasha asked.

You adjusted your tote bag. “Maybe. I’m starving.”

“Good,” Natasha said, lightly tugging you closer. “Come suffer through overcooked pasta with me.” Grace should’ve kept walking.

She really should have.

Instead, before she could stop herself, she heard her own voice cut in.

“Professor Lewis said the reflection paper’s due tonight.”

Both of you looked at her.

Grace immediately wanted to fling herself down the stairwell.

Natasha frowned. “What?”

Grace gripped the strap of her bag tighter. “T-The reflection paper…”

That was not true.

Not even remotely.

You knew it instantly.

Grace could tell by the way your expression shifted.

Not annoyed.

Worse.

You’re amused.

And…maybe, just maybe…a little fond.

“Huh…I almost forgot about that,” you said smoothly, going along.

Grace blinked.

Natasha looked between the two of you. “There’s a reflection paper?”

You nodded with a straight face. “Apparently, yeah.”

Natasha groaned. “That class is really trying to kill me.”

She released your hand with a sigh. “Fine. Text me later?”

“Mhm, later,” you said.

Then she disappeared down the hall.

And the second she was gone, silence dropped between you and Grace.

Grace suddenly became interested in everything except your face.

The lockers.

The floor.

Even the poster for student elections peeling off the wall, she noticed.

Anywhere but your face that’s looking at her.

Because if she looked at you, she was pretty sure she’d combust on impact.

You stepped closer.

“Grace.”

Her pulse jumped. “Y-Yeah?”

“You just lied.”

Grace adjusted her bag strap. “W-What? No…I-I didn’t.”

You laughed softly.

That made it so much worse.

“Grace.”

There was something in your tone that made her chest ache.

Warm.

Knowing.

Too…gentle.

“S-She was distracting,” Grace muttered before she could stop herself.

The second the words left her mouth, she regretted them.

Your brows lifted.

“Distracting?”

Grace wanted to die instantly.

“In c-class,” she added weakly.

“Hm, in class,” you repeated, and now there was definitely amusement in your voice.

Grace stared at the floor harder as if waiting for the floor to open up and swallow her whole.

Then you took one step closer.

Then another.

And now you were standing right in front of her, close enough that Grace could smell your shampoo and the faint sweetness of your lip balm, close enough that her brain short-circuited on impact.

“Were you jealous?” you asked softly.

Grace nearly died choking on her own spit.

“N-N-No!”

Too fast.

Way too fast.

You folded your arms, trying…and failing…not to smile.

“Hm, well, that sounded like a lie.”

“I-It wasn’t.”

“It was.”

“I-It wasn’t…”

“Grace…you literally invented a homework just to get rid of my friend from me.”

Grace opened her mouth.

Then closed it again.

Because there was no recovering from that.

And you were still looking at her like that.

Too close.

Too warm.

Too…pretty.

And, too dangerous for Grace’s sake.

Grace’s throat tightened.

Because she should’ve deflected.

Should’ve changed the subject.

Should’ve laughed it off.

Instead, all she could feel was the truth pressing hard against the back of her teeth.

Yes…

She was jealous.

In the softest, stupidest, most humiliating way possible.

She was jealous every time someone got your easy affection.

Every time someone touched you without thinking.

Every time someone else got the version of you she wanted to keep all to herself.

Grace’s voice came out quieter than she intended.

“I-I j-just…” she started.

Then stopped.

Your expression softened instantly.

And that nearly undid her.

“Hm? You just what?” you asked gently.

Grace looked at you.

At the warmth in your eyes.

At the patience there.

At the terrifying possibility that maybe you wouldn’t look at her like she was ridiculous if she actually told you the truth.

And for one impossible second, she almost did.

Almost.

Then…her fear won, like it always did.

Grace looked down.

“N-Nothing. Forget it.”

The silence after that was small.

Tender.

Painful.

Then your fingers brushed her wrist.

Light.

Treading carefully, as if scared to break her apart.

Still…it’s enough to make Grace freeze.

She looked up…at your face.

You were watching her with a softness that felt almost unbearable.

“Grace,” you said quietly, “you know you can tell me things, right?”

That nearly broke her.

For something so soft and careful, it almost broke her.

Because you meant it.

And God, she wanted to.

She wanted to tell you she liked you so much it made her physically miserable.

Wanted to tell you that she thought about you when you were literally across the room because apparently that was still somehow too far.

Wanted to tell you that agreeing to dorm with you had become both her favorite and worst decision because she got all these tiny pieces of you without ever being brave enough to ask for more.

But the words got stuck where they always did.

So instead…Grace gave you the smallest truth she could manage.

“I-I know…”

Your thumb brushed once against the inside of her wrist before you let go.

And Grace hated how much she missed it immediately.

You looked at her for one long second.

Then smiled.

Small.

Warm.

Dangerously understanding.

“Okay,” you said.

And somehow, that made Grace want you even more.

Which felt deeply unfair, considering she was already sleeping six feet away from the girl ruining her life unconsciously.

—

You knew Grace liked you.

Not because she said it.

God, no.

Grace Ashcroft would rather quietly disintegrate than confess her feelings without a full internal war first.

No, you knew because Grace was terrible at hiding it.

Subtle, yes…sometimes.

But terrible, really terrible.

It was in the way she always waited for you after class, even when she pretended she “just happened” to be done at the same time.

It’s the way she remembered tiny things you’d mentioned once at two in the morning and then acted like it was no big deal.

The way she’d push your charger closer when your phone battery was dying before you even asked.

The way she got weirdly quiet whenever one of your friends became too touchy with you.

And if you were being honest, it was also in the way she looked at you when she thought you were asleep.

You’d caught it once.

One night after a brutal week of deadlines, you’d been half-awake and facing the wall when you felt it…that quiet, familiar weight of being looked at.

You hadn’t moved.

Hadn’t opened your eyes.

But you’d known.

And something about that had stayed with you ever since.

Because Grace looked at you like she was trying not to.

Like every soft thing she felt was a secret she didn’t know how to survive.

And the worst part?

You looked right back.

You had feelings for Grace that had become a genuine problem somewhere between shared midnight snacks and her absentmindedly tossing one of her hoodies onto your bed because “you always steal it anyway.”

It was bad.

Hopelessly bad.

So when Grace had lied through her teeth to stop you from having lunch with Natasha, you should’ve been annoyed.

Instead, you found it so stupidly endearing that it almost felt like your heart was being squeezed tightly.

Because jealousy looked unfairly good on Grace.

Not in a toxic way.

Nor in a controlling way.

Just in a very ‘oh, she wants me close and doesn’t know what to do about it’ kind of way.

And honestly? That was ruining you.

Still, there was something underneath all of it that made your chest ache.

Because every time Grace got close to saying something real, she stopped herself.

Every time you thought she might finally let you in, she pulled back.

And maybe that was why, later that night, you found yourself opening your shared dorm room door as quietly as possible after your shower and pausing when you realized Grace was already in bed.

Or…pretending to be.

The room was dim except for the soft glow of your desk lamp.

Grace was facing the wall, blanket pulled up a little too neatly.

Suspicious.

Very suspicious.

You smiled to yourself.

Then you padded across the room in your sleep shorts and oversized shirt, drying your hair with a towel as you moved.

“Are you awake?” you asked softly.

There was a pause.

Then, from beneath the blanket. “Maybe.”

You laughed under your breath.

Cute.

Very dangerously cute.

You hung your towel onto the chair and climbed onto your bed, but instead of settling in right away, you turned onto your side to face her across the narrow space between your beds.

“Grace.”

She shifted.

Then, slowly, rolled over to face you.

Your heart did something deeply embarrassing when you saw her.

Messy hair.

Sleep-heavy eyes.

One arm tucked under her pillow.

Soft gray shirt.

You swear after you told her that you love seeing her in that gray tank top, she kept wearing gray clothes most of the time inside the dorm.

Unfair.

Actually unfair.

“What?” she asked quietly.

You looked at her for a second.

Then said, “You were cute earlier.”

Grace blinked, her sleep-heavy eyes widened.

Then immediately looked like she wanted to evaporate.

“No…I-I wasn’t.”

“You were, though.”

“I was having a crisis.”

“Yeah…that can be cute too.”

Grace groaned softly and dragged part of the blanket over her face.

You laughed.

“You literally lied to stop me from eating cafeteria pasta with Natasha.”

“She was touching you too much,” Grace mumbled from behind the blanket.

The room went still.

Grace went still under her blanket too.

Then, very slowly, she lowered the blanket from her face.

Your heart nearly stopped.

Because she looked so horrified.

Like she hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

Like she was already bracing for your rejection.

You softened immediately.

“Grace…”

Her cheeks were pink now.

Even in the dim light, you could see it.

“I-I didn’t m-mean…”

You sighed, “No, it’s alright,” you said softly.

Grace looked at you.

Really looked at you.

And for a second, there was no room in the world except this one.

No campus.

No classes.

No friends.

Just the dark, the quiet, and the girl across from you who looked like she’d been carrying too much of herself alone for too long.

So you did the only thing that felt right at the moment.

You pushed yourself up, crossed the tiny space between your beds, and sat on the edge of hers.

Grace froze, completely.

You smiled a little. “Relax.”

“You’re on my bed.”

“Mhm, very observant of you.”

Grace stared at you.

You stared back.

Then, more softly, you said, “For the record…”

Her eyes lifted to yours.

“I didn’t mind.”

Her brows furrowed. “Didn’t mind…what?”

You held her gaze.

“The…jealousy,” you tried to say casually.

Grace froze so completely you thought she might actually stop breathing.

Then, slowly, color climbed across her cheeks.

You had to physically stop yourself from smiling too hard.

Because there it was.

That tiny, secret thing between you.

Still unnamed.

Unresolved.

But very…very real.

And judging by the way Grace looked at you now, like you’d just handed her something fragile and dangerous, she felt it too.

Neither of you moved.

Neither of you looked away.

And somewhere in that silence, with your knee almost brushing hers and the soft hum of the dorm air conditioner filling the room, you realized with painful certainty that this was going to ruin you both.