VOICEOVER
After Parent-Student Day, the campus felt different. Not cleaner. Not kinder. Just... aware. Aware that everyone had someone who loved them. Aware that everyone had someone they were lying to. The masks had come off for a day. Now they were back on. But they didn't fit the same way anymore.
AARON – THE DORM, MORNING
Aaron sat on his bed, staring at his phone.
His mother's words echoed in his head. "Leave Vicky. Focus on your books. Mandy is a good girl."
He looked across the room. Oliver was asleep, his chest rising and falling. Charlie was doing pushups, counting under his breath. Wesley was reading, his face expressionless.
Normal. Everything was normal.
Except nothing was normal.
His phone buzzed.
Mandy (9:15 AM): Your mom is amazing. I wish mine was like that.
Aaron (9:16 AM): She's something.
Mandy (9:16 AM): She told me to take care of you.
Aaron (9:17 AM): Did she?
Mandy (9:17 AM): She said "that boy keeps everything inside. Someone needs to let the air out before he explodes."
He almost smiled.
Aaron (9:18 AM): She's dramatic.
Mandy (9:18 AM): She's right.
He put down the phone. He didn't know what to say to that.
OLIVER AND PECULIAR – THE PARKING LOT, AFTERNOON
Oliver was sitting on the hood of his car, staring at the sky.
Peculiar found him there. She always found him.
"You're becoming predictable," she said, hopping up beside him.
"You keep saying that."
"Because it keeps being true."
She leaned back on her hands. Her purple tips caught the light.
"You look better," she said.
"I feel better."
"Clean?"
He nodded. "Clean."
She looked at him. "Are you going to stay clean?"
He was quiet for a moment. "I'm going to try."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have."
She reached out. Touched his hand. "Then try. That's all anyone can do."
He didn't pull away.
They sat like that, hand in hand, watching the clouds.
Nelly watched from her dorm window.
She didn't say anything.
She just watched.
CHARLIE AND CYNTHIA – THE CAFETERIA, LATE AFTERNOON
The fight came out of nowhere.
One minute they were eating. The next, Charlie was asking about her past.
"So," he said, trying to sound casual. "How many guys have you been with?"
Cynthia put down her fork. "Why are you asking?"
"Just curious."
"No, you're not. You're judging."
"I'm not judging. I'm asking."
"You're asking because you want to know if I'm a slut."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to."
Charlie's face went red. "Fine. How many?"
Cynthia stared at him. "That's none of your business."
"We're dating. It is my business."
"We're dating. That doesn't give you ownership of my past."
"I'm not trying to own anything. I'm just trying to understand."
"Understand what? That I had a life before you?" She stood up. "You're not ready for this, Charlie. You're not ready for me."
She walked away.
Charlie sat there, stunned.
Then he got angry.
CHARLIE AND WESLEY – THE DORM, NIGHT
Charlie was pacing.
"I didn't mean it like that," he said. "I just... I don't like thinking about her with other guys."
"Then don't think about it," Wesley said, not looking up from his book.
"It's not that simple."
"It is that simple. You're making it complicated."
Charlie stopped pacing. "Can you talk to her? Please? She listens to you."
Wesley looked up. "Why would she listen to me?"
"Because you're... I don't know. You're calm. You're not an idiot."
"Debatable."
"Please, Wesley. I fucked up. I need someone to fix it."
Wesley closed his book. "Fine. I'll talk to her."
"Thank you. Thank you so much."
"Don't thank me yet."
Wesley stood up, stretched, and walked out the door.
Charlie sat on his bed, relieved.
He didn't know what was coming.
WESLEY AND CYNTHIA – HER DORM, LATE NIGHT
Cynthia was sitting on her bed, crying.
Wesley knocked. She opened the door. Her eyes were red.
"Charlie sent you," she said.
"He asked me to come."
"Of course he did."
"Can I come in?"
She stepped aside.
He sat on her desk chair. She sat on the bed.
"He's an idiot," Wesley said.
"I know."
"A good idiot. But still an idiot."
She laughed. A small, wet sound. "Why are you here?"
"Because he asked. And because I think you deserve to be heard."
She looked at him. Really looked. "You're different from the others."
"How?"
"You listen. You don't just wait for your turn to talk."
He shrugged. "My father is strict. I learned to be quiet. It's not a virtue. It's survival."
They talked for an hour. About Charlie. About her past. About the things she'd done and the things she regretted.
"I've done everything," she said quietly. "With a lot of people. Except..."
"Except?"
"Sex. I've never had sex."
Wesley was quiet. "Why?"
"Because I wanted it to mean something. And no one ever made me feel like it would."
She looked at him. Her eyes were tired. Vulnerable.
"Thank you for listening," she said.
"You're welcome."
Neither of them moved.
Something shifted in the air.
LATER
One thing led to another.
Wesley didn't plan it. He didn't not plan it. He just... let it happen.
Cynthia was warm. She was soft. She was crying and laughing at the same time.
Afterward, they lay in the dark.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"For what?"
"For... this. For him. For everything."
"Don't be sorry." He turned to look at her. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"I slept with my boyfriend's best friend."
"He asked me to come."
"That doesn't make it right."
"No," Wesley said. "It doesn't."
They were quiet for a long time.
Then Wesley sat up. "I should go."
"Yeah."
He dressed. At the door, he paused.
"Cynthia?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm not sorry."
He left.
She stared at the ceiling.
She wasn't sure if she was sorry either.
THE DORM – EARLY MORNING
Wesley walked in. Charlie was awake, waiting.
"How did it go?" Charlie asked.
"We talked."
"And?"
"And other things."
Charlie frowned. "What other things?"
Wesley sat on his bed. Smiled. That annoyingly proud smile.
"We had sex."
Charlie laughed. "No, you didn't."
"I did."
"You're lying."
"I'm not."
Charlie stood up. His face was pale. "You're fucking lying."
Wesley stood up too. Looked him in the eye.
Then he put his hand down his pants. Brought it up. Held it under Charlie's nose.
Charlie inhaled.
His face crumbled.
It smelled like Cynthia.
"OH MY GOD," Charlie screamed. He staggered back. His knees hit the bed. He sat down hard. "OH MY FUCKING GOD."
"You asked me to talk to her," Wesley said. "I talked."
"I didn't ask you to FUCK her!"
"You didn't ask me not to."
Charlie was hyperventilating. His hands were shaking. His eyes were wet.
"I'm going to kill you," Charlie said. "I'm going to fucking kill you."
"No, you're not."
"WESLEY!"
"You're going to sit there. You're going to feel this. And then you're going to decide what kind of person you want to be."
Charlie stared at him. His chest heaved.
"I hate you," Charlie whispered.
"I know."
Wesley lay back on his bed. Closed his eyes.
Charlie sat there, broken, smelling his girlfriend on his best friend's fingers.
Oliver woke up. Looked around. "What happened?"
No one answered.
The room was silent.
VOICEOVER
That night, Charlie learned that trust is a fragile thing. Wesley learned that pride is a dangerous thing. Cynthia learned that meaning is a fleeting thing. And Oliver learned that sometimes, the quietest person in the room is the one you should fear the most. The cracks were widening. The floor was shifting. And somewhere, in the dark, Ese was smiling.