Michael rubbed his face as he woke, lingering for a moment before sitting up. He immediately realized he was naked. His clothes lay scattered on the floor alongside Stella's, and the weight of reality dawned on him: they had slept together.
"What have I done? It happened too soon," he whispered. He hurriedly pulled on his trousers and sat on the edge of the bed, lost in thought.
Soon, Stella stirred. Seeing her bare body beneath the blanket, a smirk played on her lips. Her plan had worked. She had taken advantage of the moment when she knew Michael was vulnerable, and now she believed nothing could separate them. She could tell Michael was unhappy by the tense way he sat in silence.
"Good morning, Michael," she said, her voice bright.
Michael stood and faced her, his expression stony. "We slept together," he said coldly.
"Yeah... I know. You don't seem very happy about it."
Michael slammed his hand onto the bedside table in frustration, making Stella jolt. "Is there anything wrong?" she asked in a low, cautious tone.
"Yes, everything is wrong!" Michael yelled. "I never wanted this to happen yet! I shouldn't have let myself get so drunk last night."
Stella rolled her eyes. "Calm down, Michael. It isn't a big deal."
"Not a big deal?" he retorted. "Imagine if my mom had walked in and seen us both naked in this bed. I think you'd agree it's a big deal then."
Stella sighed, feigning hurt. "I thought you said you liked me."
Her words made Michael's anger simmer down. "Yes, I do."
Stella snapped back, "Then why does it bother you that we slept together?"
"Because it's too soon. We should have given ourselves some time."
"I feel so stupid. You clearly said you 'liked' me, not 'loved' me, and I failed to see the difference," Stella said, her voice trembling with manufactured sadness. She stood up, clutching the blanket around her, and quickly began dressing. "Don't worry, you won't have to see me near you anymore. I don't want my heart broken."
Michael tried to stop her as she hurried toward the door, but she forced her way past and left without a backward glance. As Michael sat in the quiet room, guilt gnawed at him. He couldn't tell if he had handled it right, but his heart judged him for letting her leave like that. He began to obsess over how to make it up to her.
*****
Stella walked quietly into her dorm. The moment she saw Agatha, she groaned loudly, skipping any greeting.
"Where are you coming from?" Agatha asked, studying Stella's disheveled appearance.
"I'd answer you, but... I remembered you're not my mom," Stella snapped sarcastically.
"I waited for you yesterday, but you never showed. Did you fall asleep at the ball?"
"I didn't, okay? I went to a friend's house. I hope that satisfies your curiosity."
"Was it a girl or a boy?"
"Why are you interrogating me? That shouldn't be your concern."
"Fine. But you don't look happy. Did your 'friend' annoy you?"
Stella sat heavily on her bed. "I don't want to talk about it. I might end up crying."
"Let me guess," Agatha said, placing a hand on her hip. "In one way or another, you are definitely at fault for whatever happened at your friend's house."
Stella scoffed. "That's why I hate talking to you. You always say things to make me miserable. What makes you think I'm at fault?"
"Stella, I know you. I know exactly what you're capable of."
"Whatever, Aggie. I just want to rest."
Picking up her phone, Stella saw a message from Tia. So she saw us yesterday, Stella thought. Judging by the tone, Tia didn't seem jealous, which made Stella wonder if Michael had been talking to her secretly. No, Michael wouldn't want anything to do with her, she reassured herself. However, the fact that Michael hadn't texted yet made her doubt if he was truly interested in her.
"Wasn't the ball great yesterday?" Agatha asked, breaking into her thoughts.
"Yeah, it was... interesting," Stella said, kicking off her shoes.
"I still don't know why you didn't want us to go together, since our dates were already there."
Stella sighed. "I didn't want you ruining my entrance. Besides, your dress wasn't exactly perfect."
Agatha laughed. "First of all, your dress wasn't perfect either, and I don't think anyone even noticed your entry."
"Yes, they did! I'm sure of it!"
"Okay, okay," Agatha gestured for her to calm down. "Why don't you just shower and change into something comfortable?"
"You don't need to tell me. I know."
By noon, Stella still hadn't heard from Michael. She wanted to call, but feared he would decline. She felt like she had lost him forever, her heart aching at the thought. "Then why did he kiss me?" she whispered. The kiss was proof she had won, but his morning anger made her fear it was all a mistake.
Suddenly, a message arrived. Michael was asking her to come out. Relief washed over her, though she wondered why he was summoning her. Pulling on her jacket, she hoped the anger had passed and rushed out of the dorm.
Outside, she stopped short. Michael stood there holding a bouquet of roses, approaching her with a soft smile. She crossed her arms, acting guarded; she didn't want him thinking she was an easy target for forgiveness.
"I'm sorry for how I acted this morning," Michael said gently, handing her the flowers.
"Well, I can't be mad at the flowers... so, thank you."
Michael then pulled out a card. Written on it were the words: Will you be my girlfriend? Stella's eyes widened. She read it slowly before squealing in delight and throwing her arms around him.
"Yes! Yes, I'll be your girlfriend! I'm so happy!" she cried, jumping slightly.
"I think I should make something clear, though," he said, his voice turning serious. "I don't 'like' you."
The joy vanished from Stella's face, replaced by a confused frown. Is he joking? Why ask me to be his girlfriend then?
Before she could snap, Michael's next words silenced her. "I love you. I think that's the right thing to say," he said with a warm smile.
Stella exhaled in relief. "I love you too, Michael." She stared deep into his eyes, amazed that he had finally fallen for her. Her "hard work" had paid off. As she returned to her dorm later, her mind was filled with him—and the comforting thought that dating a rich kid meant she would never want for anything again.