Chapter 18: "Lip Balm and Butterflies"

The next morning came with sunlight spilling through the blinds and a soft sense of purpose stirring in Lily's chest. She got dressed early, even added a little lip balm—not because she thought she'd see him, but… maybe. Just maybe.

Her first day of classes was mostly a blur. New names. New professors. A confusing hallway that looped back to the same water fountain three times. She tried to focus, to take notes and keep up with everything.

But she couldn't stop thinking about him.

Joe.

The coffee conversation replayed in her head—his laugh, the way he leaned forward when she talked, how he hadn't looked at his phone once the entire time they were together. He'd been present. That meant something, right?

After her last class, Lily wandered toward the quad, unsure what she was even looking for. But then she spotted a familiar grey hoodie near the outdoor basketball court.

Joe was there. Laughing with a few guys, spinning a basketball on one finger before tossing it over his shoulder and landing a perfect shot.

Lily froze. She hadn't expected this. Should she say hi? Or would that be weird?

But then, as if he felt her stare, Joe turned.

His eyes lit up when they landed on her. "Lily!"

She smiled, walking over slowly.

"You stalking me already?" he teased.

"Please," she said, rolling her eyes. "This campus is barely bigger than my high school."

"Well, lucky me." He picked up the ball, spun it again, then paused. "Wanna walk a little?"

She nodded, and they started moving across the sidewalk in a quiet rhythm.

Their conversation picked up right where it had left off—effortless. He told her a wild story about his roommate mistaking shaving cream for whipped cream on his pancakes. She shared how she nearly sat in the wrong class for fifteen minutes because she didn't realize "Art Theory 101" wasn't in the engineering building.

And then, somewhere in the middle of talking about favorite cereals and childhood cartoons, Joe slowed his steps.

He stopped talking. Lily turned to glance at him, only to find his eyes quietly studying her.

"You have beautiful skin," Joe said, his voice low and sincere.

Lily blinked, caught completely off guard. Heat rushed to her cheeks. "Oh—uh, thank you," she murmured, trying not to smile too wide.

The words stayed with her like a warm echo.

When they reached the bus stop, Lily stepped toward the curb, ready to say goodbye. But Joe held out his phone to her, no words—just a look. Straight into her eyes.

Lily didn't even hesitate. She took the phone, typed in her number, and handed it back.

He smirked, his gaze never leaving hers. "I'll text you soon."

That was all he said. And then he walked off like it wasn't a big deal.

But to Lily? It was.

Back in class that afternoon, she couldn't focus on a single thing the professor was saying. Her eyes kept darting to her phone screen. Nothing. She tried not to feel disappointed, tried to convince herself it didn't matter.

But it did.

Still, she held onto the way he had looked at her. The way he'd said her skin was beautiful. She replayed it in her head again and again, smiling like an idiot.

By 6:00 p.m., she had already made peace with it. Maybe he was just joking when he asked for my number. Maybe he lost it. She told herself not to feel bad. It didn't mean anything. Right?

But then, at 6:58 p.m., her phone lit up.

JOE: "Hi Lily, it's me Joe, the tall guy from this morning."

Lily let out a tiny squeal. She actually squealed. She danced around her room like a little girl who'd just been told she was going to Disneyland.

Her reply came five minutes later:

LILY: "Ooh, good evening Joe. The name was enough—you didn't have to say 'the tall guy from today.'"

Almost immediately, he replied:

JOE: "You're right."

And that was how it started.