Misread signals

As dawn broke, the home system blared its familiar wake-up call, a shrill reminder that a new day was upon us. Blinking against the bright light that flooded the dormitory, I slowly opened my eyes. The cupboard next to my bed emitted a soft clicking sound, signaling that our phones were now accessible.

With nowhere urgent to go, I nestled back into the comforting embrace of my bed, trying to drift off to sleep once more. Leah and Coco bustled around the room, their laughter intermingling with the sounds of zippers and the rustle of clothing as they prepared for another busy Thursday at school. A wave of melancholy washed over me at the thought of missing the entrepreneurship club meeting; my longing for those creative sessions clashed with my overwhelming need for rest. I resolved to let the club wait until next Thursday when I'd be back to my energetic self.

They waved goodbye as they slipped out the door, and an enveloping silence took over the room. I found myself surrendering to sweet slumber, only to awaken five hours later, feeling groggy yet strangely renewed. My eyes fluttered open again, the ceiling above me swimming into focus. A thrill surged through my body, prompting me to kick playfully against the soft, fresh sheets—this was my time to be lazy, and I intended to savor every moment.

Eventually, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and padded towards the bathroom to freshen up. After brushing my teeth and taking a quick shower, I moved on to eat my breakfast, the warm food filling my belly with comfort.

As boredom drew me to the medicine package, I read through it absently, only to discover it contained sedatives to help with my recuperation. A soft chuckle escaped my lips as I tossed it away—I wasn't ready to succumb to sleep just yet. Instead, my heart raced at the memory of last night, when I took a tentative step toward deepening my connection with Julian.

It felt like a genuine achievement, and with newfound determination, I crawled back to the cupboard to grab my phone.

His message was just as I had left it—no flood of notifications, just one simple request for a picture. I sighed, feeling a rush of shyness wash over me. "Sorry, Julian," I thought, "this girl is too timid to meet you again after our first encounter, let alone start a conversation."

Summoning my courage, I greeted him with a playful, "Hey, Prince Charming."

After a moment, his response popped up on my screen—a sticker that portrayed his annoyance. It was oddly charming, even if it hinted at something more complicated beneath the surface.

Me: What's wrong? You don't sound too good this morning.

Julian: *Sends another sticker*

I pursed my lips, sensing his reluctance to share his feelings with someone he barely knew. I needed to lighten the mood, so I tried another approach.

Me: Have you saved my contact? I saved yours already.

Julian: *Sends a screenshot.*

My heart raced at the revelation—my number displayed in his unsaved contacts. A frown creased my forehead, but I quickly dismissed it when I noticed he hadn't saved anyone else's either.

Me: Are you really that lazy? How do you even know who's messaging you?

I teased him, trying to inject some laughter into our exchange.

Julian: I'll know.

Surprise washed over me; his confidence was palpable, and I found myself thoroughly impressed. I realized that as much as I was the shy and reserved type, I needed someone bold and unabashed to balance my timid nature, someone dirty—not physically dirty, but someone unafraid to explore deeper realms of intimacy.

As our conversation flowed, I felt grateful he was engaging with me instead of ignoring my messages. I yearned to uncover more about him.

Me: You seem pretty outgoing and social. I prefer to keep my circle small, just one or two friends. I hate being the center of attention.

Yet the irony gnawed at me; whether I wanted it or not, attention followed me wherever I went. Detention visits, hit by a soccer ball, fighting, and countless other moments had thrust me into the spotlight when all I wanted was to disappear.

Julian: *Sends a sticker* His expression conveyed disapproval of my words. I preferred to carry the baggage of others and seek convenient friendships... friends with benefits stuff.

That turn in the conversation surprised me—I hadn't anticipated such a frank admission—but I understood I was merely a stranger seeking to piece together the puzzle of who he was. I had no right to counter to his view of life, not now at least. I hope that we'll get there someday.

Julian: One day, I might just call you out in class.

A smirk crept onto my face as I imagined him trying to embarrass me. "Good luck with that," I thought; after all, you don't even know my name.

Me: I'll just sprint out of the classroom.

As our conversation continued, the minutes slipped away until his responses grew slow. I assumed he must have been preoccupied. Seizing the moment, I finally decided to lie down and cherish the quiet once again.

When Coco returned to the dorm, I eagerly greeted her, my excitement bubbling over as I asked for her notes. I was determined to dive into my studies right away, wanting to get ahead and ensure I stayed on top of my academics. She nodded, handing them over before making her way to her bed, ready to tackle her tasks.

Coco soon disappeared into the bathroom to freshen up. I could hear the soft rush of water as she turned on the tap, filling the tub. Moments later, she emerged from the steamy oasis, her skin slightly flushed. She slipped into a cozy gown, signaling that she wouldn't be leaving the room for a while, her casual elegance making her look effortlessly beautiful.

With a swift tap on a hidden button by her wall, her mirror and beauty supplies seamlessly transformed into a gaming hub, glowing screens flooding the dim room with blue light. Her gaze sharpened as she noticed notifications blinking on her computer. My eyes flickered to her, curious about what captured her attention.

Among the messages, one stood out—Player 'Win8Lan,' a fierce competitor she often clashed with gaming, was vying for the title of the ultimate gaming Lord. He'd recently bested her in a match and was now pushing for a real-life meeting. As they had battled together for over three years, a spark of curiosity ignited within her; she felt an unexpected affection for this mysterious figure behind the screen.

Win8Lan: You said if I beat you in the next game, you'd concede to my request, right? I'm not forcing you, just eager to know the real you.

Cocobean: I think you should change your request; I'm not ready to meet a stranger yet.

A subtle frown graced her features as she typed, her brows furrowing in contemplation.

Win8Lan: Then let's date. I'm currently searching for a girlfriend, and you possess all the qualities I admire: smart, fierce, and, dare I say, pretty.

Her lips curled into a soft smile as she absorbed his words, a warmth spreading through her chest.

Cocobean: How do you know I'm pretty?

Win8Lan: I'm just 100% certain! Most girls who dive into games like this are. I can tell you're one of them, even without seeing your face.

Coco took a deep breath, the prospect of finally meeting him flickering through her thoughts. They had spent years battling it out online—this could be the moment she had secretly hoped for.

Cocobean: Choose one, Lanlan—don't be greedy. Should we meet up or go on a date?

Win8Lan: A date, please.

Cocobean: Alright then, maybe in five days I'll be ready.

Win8Lan: I'll be looking forward to it. Thanks for holding to your word, princess.

****

Later that evening, once I had completed my study session, I felt the early hour stretch before me. I picked up my phone, heart racing, hoping for a message from Julian. I had sent him a text earlier, and my anticipation grew as the minutes dragged on without a response.

An hour passed, then two, and finally three. Frustration began to creep in as I realized he hadn't responded, not even to acknowledge my message. Was he busy, or had I misread the signals? I placed my phone aside, trying to convince myself that I needed to be patient, that this delicate connection was still growing.

The week drifted by as I buried myself in study and focused on my recovery. Though my nose was healing, disappointment hung heavy in the air as I opened my phone, again met with silence from Julian. Not a single "Hi," despite the eagerness I felt. I wanted to reach out but struggled to maintain my cool; my heart was involved, and he seemed to unknowingly play with my feelings.

Finally, the weight of frustration spilled out in a message.

Me: Have you forgotten me so soon?

That was my last attempt, yet the silence lingered. I bit my lip and jotted down another message, my insecurities gnawing at me.

"Do you put your messages on a timer?" I questioned, desperately hoping that my messages hadn't vanished into the void without him seeing them. Each unanswered note felt like a crushing blow. What had I done wrong? It was excruciating to see the hope he had kindled within me wither away.

In a frantic moment, I hammered out a final flurry of messages.

"I wasn't expecting much from you anyway," I sent, facepalming myself as soon as I hit send. What if he reacted poorly and decided to cut off all communication?

And just like that, I was right. My phone remained still, Julian never replied, and I felt as though I had snuffed out something that hadn't even had a chance to blossom.