Aubrey tried to keep her head down all Thursday afternoon, but her brain wouldn’t cooperate. It kept replaying the moment she leaned into Caleb. It kept replaying the way he didn’t pull away. And, annoyingly, it kept replaying Chase’s face when she told him he mattered to her.
She wanted a normal brain. A quiet brain. A brain that didn’t run three emotional storylines at the same time.
No such luck.
By five, she felt stretched thin. Too many feelings, not enough space. She packed up her things and left before Sandra could call her name again.
The air outside was colder now. Sharper. It woke her up just enough to remember that Caleb said he’d be around.
She spotted him almost instantly—leaning against a lamp post across the street, hands in pockets, watching cars pass like he wasn’t waiting for anything. But when he saw her, he straightened a little.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hi,” she replied, trying to smooth down feelings that refused to smooth.
“You okay?”
“Define okay.”
He smiled. “You seem better than this morning.”
“That’s not a high bar.”
“Still counts.”
They started walking without discussing where they were going. It felt natural, like they’d done it a hundred times. They hadn’t—maybe three times, at most. But her body kept acting like it knew this routine, like it recognized him before her brain did.
She shoved her hands into her pockets. “Thanks for earlier.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“I kind of do.”
“You really don’t,” he said. “I wanted to be there.”
Dangerous words.
Too warm.
Too steady.
She looked ahead quickly so she wouldn’t start overthinking again.
They reached a small corner park—just a bench, a few trees, a view of traffic. Nothing beautiful, nothing romantic. But it felt easier to breathe there.
They sat.
Aubrey stared at the ground. “I’m sorry about… everything.”
Caleb glanced at her. “Everything?”
“Being complicated. Being confused. Being—me.”
He lightly shook his head. “You’re not doing anything wrong.”
“I feel like I am.”
“That’s different from actually doing something wrong.”
She made a frustrated noise. “Why are you always so calm?”
“Because you’re not,” he said simply.
She froze.
Then let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.
“That’s unfair,” she muttered.
“It’s true.”
She kicked at a leaf. “I hate this. I hate not knowing how I’m supposed to feel.”
Caleb leaned forward slightly. “You don’t have to know.”
“But you do,” she said. “You always know.”
He paused. “Not always. But I know what I feel about you. And I’m not confused about that.”
Her pulse jumped so hard she almost swallowed air wrong.
“I—Caleb—”
He didn’t look away. “You don’t have to say anything.”
She wanted to scream. Or hide. Or both. Instead she sat there completely still, like movement might break whatever moment this was turning into.
Caleb softened his voice. “Aubrey. You don’t have to match me. I’m not rushing you.”
She shook her head. “I know. That’s not the problem.”
“Then what is?”
She opened her mouth—
And her phone buzzed.
Aubrey groaned. “I swear to God—”
Caleb tried not to smile. “Chase?”
She looked at the notification.
Not Chase.
Her landlord.
Her stomach dropped.
Property Management: Heater access required today. 7–9pm. Mandatory.
Aubrey’s voice went flat. “No. Nope. No thank you.”
Caleb leaned slightly. “Everything okay?”
“My landlord wants to come fix my heater tonight.”
“That’s good, right?”
“No. That means I have to let a stranger into my apartment while my place looks like it survived a tornado.”
Caleb blinked. “Is it that bad?”
She buried her face in her hands. “It’s worse.”
He tried not to laugh. “Do you want help?”
“No.”
He waited.
“…Maybe.”
He stood. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“Caleb, no. You don’t have to—”
“I know,” he said, smiling a little. “I want to.”
Those words again.
Dangerous.
She stood up, already regretting everything.
But she followed him anyway.
Aubrey unlocked her apartment door and immediately wanted to die.
Caleb stepped in behind her and froze. “Oh.”
“Don’t say anything,” she warned.
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You were absolutely going to.”
“I was going to choose my words carefully.”
“Caleb—”
“It’s not that bad,” he said.
She raised an eyebrow.
“Okay,” he corrected, “it’s a little bad.”
Clothes were piled on a chair. A stack of mail sat on the floor. Two mugs were on the counter, one definitely questionable. Her blanket was on the couch but somehow also on the floor. A half-finished sketchpad was open on the coffee table next to three dying pens.
“This is embarrassing,” she muttered.
“It’s lived-in,” he said.
“It’s a mess.”
He shrugged. “Messy is fine.”
She turned to him. “Why are you like this?”
“Like what?”
“Annoyingly… supportive.”
“It’s not annoying.”
“It is when I’m trying to panic.”
He laughed quietly. “Do you want me to help or not?”
She sighed. “Help. Please.”
He rolled up his sleeves. “Tell me where things go.”
“That implies they have places.”
“Aubrey.”
“Fine,” she groaned. “Laundry pile on the bed. Trash in the bin. Mail on the counter. Sketch stuff… somewhere that isn’t here.”
“Yes ma’am.”
They moved fast. Caleb picked up clothes without judging the existence of mismatched socks. Aubrey shoved papers into semi-organized stacks. Caleb washed one mug; Aubrey threw the other away entirely. They folded blankets, wiped surfaces, and shoved whatever made no sense into a drawer they silently agreed to never open again.
At one point, Aubrey saw Caleb pick up a hoodie from the floor and hold it like it weighed more than fabric.
“That’s mine,” she said.
“I figured,” he said, smiling slightly as he set it on a chair.
Her face warmed. She turned away before she had to process that.
By 7:10, the apartment looked… not perfect, but presentable. Like a person lived there instead of a tornado’s emotional victim.
Aubrey exhaled. “Okay. I think I can survive letting a maintenance guy inside now.”
Caleb nodded. “You did most of it.”
“You did a lot.”
He shook his head. “I helped. That’s all.”
She stared at him for a second too long. “You’re… unreal.”
He blinked. “Why?”
“Because you didn’t have to do any of this.”
“I wanted to,” he said again. “You know that.”
Her stomach flipped painfully. She sat on the edge of the couch before she fell over.
He sat beside her, leaving the same familiar few inches of space. Comfortably close. Not assuming.
“You okay?” he asked.
“No.”
He smiled softly. “Honest. Good.”
She kicked at nothing. “This is the weirdest week of my life.”
“Maybe the start of something better.”
She stared at him.
And then—
Another buzz.
Aubrey groaned. “Chase. I swear.”
She grabbed her phone.
But it wasn’t Chase.
It was worse.
Mom: Sweetheart, I’m in town tonight. Can we talk?
Aubrey’s soul left her body.
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
Caleb’s posture shifted. “Everything okay?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
She handed him the phone.
He read it, then looked at her with the softest frown. “Do you want to see her?”
Aubrey stared at the floor. Her throat felt tight, like words got stuck halfway up.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
Caleb didn’t move closer.
But his voice did.
“You don’t have to decide alone.”
And just like that, the heater appointment was no longer the crisis of the night.
Her past was.
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