The sun outside my window feels like a taunt, its light pale and indifferent, as if it knows I'm unravelling inside. My textbooks are a mess across the bed, open to the same chapters I've been pretending to study for hours. But no matter how long I stare, the words blur together, useless against the chaos in my head.

Theo.

It always comes back to Theo.

That morning at the beach house—God, it's burned into my memory. The way he looked at me, his brown eyes steady, raw, like I was the answer to every question he'd ever had. The way he told me he's loved me for years, like it was a fact as simple as breathing. And what did I do? I froze. Not a single word came out of my mouth.

Weeks later, and I'm still stuck in that moment, still trying to untangle this knot of emotions. He's been my best friend for so long, my safe place, my constant. Shouldn't I know by now if I feel the same? But every time I picture us crossing that line, my chest tightens like a vice.

What if we try and it falls apart? What if I lose him?

I groan into my hands, the frustration bubbling over. This isn't me. I hate this indecision, this limbo. I hate that I'm too scared to move forward but too selfish to let go.

A sharp knock at the door snaps me out of my spiral. Before I can answer, Becca strides in like she owns the place, her dark curls bouncing and her expression all business.

"Still brooding, I see," she says, hands on her hips.

"I'm not brooding," I grumble, flopping back against the pillows.

She snorts. "Yeah, sure. And I'm the queen of England. Move over." She pushes my books to the floor and plants herself beside me. "Spill. What's going on? And don't even try to tell me it's nothing, Isla. You've been in full-on hermit mode for weeks."

I chew on my bottom lip, debating how much to say. But Becca's sharp gaze pins me down, leaving me no room to squirm.

"It's Theo," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

She doesn't look surprised—of course, she doesn't. "What about him?"

"That morning at the beach house... he told me he loves me. And I just froze. I didn't know what to say then, and I still don't."

Becca's lips press into a thin line, her eyes narrowing. "Okay, let me get this straight. Your ridiculously hot, annoyingly perfect best friend tells you he's in love with you, and your response is... nothing?"

I wince. "I panicked, okay? And now I'm scared. What if we try and it ruins everything? What if I lose him?"

"What if you don't?" Becca counters, her tone sharp. "What if he's your person, Isla, and you're too busy being scared to see it?"

I open my mouth to argue, but she cuts me off.

"You're overthinking this to death, as usual. Just tell him where you're at. Be honest. Stringing him along isn't fair, to him or you."

"I'm not stringing him along," I say, even though it feels like a lie.

Her raised eyebrow says everything. "Sure, Jan."

Before I can argue, she stands and tugs me up with her. "Enough wallowing. We've got a study session at the library. You're coming."

I groan but know better than to argue. Becca's unstoppable when she's on a mission.

*******

The library hums with activity when we arrive, the sound of pens scratching and hushed conversations grounding me in a way I didn't expect. Our group is already gathered at the back, and as we slide into our seats, Peyton flashes me a bright smile.

Peyton's the kind of girl who seems effortlessly put together—always rocking a sleek ponytail, a flawless manicure, and that bright, toothy grin that somehow never looks forced. She's nice, genuinely so, but there's something about her easy confidence that always makes me feel a little... off-balance.

"Hey, Isla! Ready for a long night of suffering?" she asks, her voice warm and teasing.

I manage a weak laugh and try to focus, but the lingering weight of Theo's confession keeps creeping in. For once, though, the noise around me helps drown it out, at least temporarily.

As the session winds down, Peyton sidles up to me, her perfectly straight hair catching the fluorescent lights like a shampoo commercial. She hesitates for a second before asking, "So... do you know Theo well?"

My heart stutters. "Yeah, he's my best friend. Why?"

Her cheeks flush pink, and she fidgets with the strap of her bag. "I was wondering... could you set me up with him? He's so cute, and he seems really sweet."

The air feels sucked out of the room. Set her up with Theo?

I force a smile that feels more like a grimace. "Uh... I can talk to him."

Great. Perfect. This is the first thing I'm going to say to Theo after weeks of avoiding him? 'Hey, want me to set you up with someone else?' Stellar move, Isla. Truly.

Her face lights up with excitement, but I feel like I'm sinking, the weight of my own stupidity dragging me under.

Becca doesn't miss a thing. The second Peyton bounces off to join another group, she's at my side, her eyebrows practically touching her hairline.

"What the hell was that?" she asks, her tone dripping with judgment.

I sigh, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. "What do you mean?"

Becca lets out a dry laugh. "Don't play dumb with me. Peyton asked you to set her up with Theo, and you just... what? Agreed?"

"I didn't agree!" I snap, a little too loudly, earning a few annoyed glances from nearby students. I lower my voice. "I just... said I'd talk to him."

"And that's somehow better?" she shoots back, her expression incredulous. "Seriously, Isla? You're out here pretending you don't care about Theo, but the second someone else shows interest, you're practically combusting."

"I'm not combusting," I grumble, heading for the door. Becca follows me, her footsteps quick and purposeful.

"You are so combusting," she says, catching up. "You're just too chicken to admit it."

Outside, the cold evening air hits me like a slap. I breathe it in, hoping it'll clear the fog in my brain, but all I feel is that same gnawing unease. Becca doesn't let up, though.

"Let me guess," she says, her tone sharp. "You're going to go to Theo, tell him Peyton's interested, and then sit back and watch while he moves on with someone else. Sounds like a solid plan. Definitely not emotionally scarring at all."

I stop in my tracks, spinning around to face her. "What am I supposed to do, Becca? Just claim him? Tell him he's not allowed to date anyone else because I'm too busy being a coward to figure out my feelings? That's so unfair to him!"

"What's unfair," she counters, crossing her arms, "is you pretending you don't feel anything when it's obvious you do. You don't have to 'claim' him, Isla. But maybe, just maybe, you could stop running from the truth."

I open my mouth to argue, but no words come out. Because she's right. I am running. From Theo, from my feelings, from everything. And now, I've backed myself into a corner so tight I can barely breathe.

Her words sink in like stones, heavy and unrelenting. I swallow hard, forcing a nod. "I'll figure it out," I say, though the words feel weak even to me.

Becca doesn't let me off the hook that easily. As we walk in silence toward the exit, she gives me a sideways glance, her lips curling into a mischievous smile.

"You know," she says casually, "there's a party at Bridges Hall tonight."

I shoot her a look. "You're seriously going to drag me to a party right now?"

She shrugs like it's no big deal, though I can see the challenge in her eyes. "You need a distraction, and I need you to get out of your own head for five minutes. So, yes. I'm dragging you to a party."

I hesitate. The idea of being around a bunch of people, loud music, and forced fun is the last thing I want right now. But then again, maybe it's exactly what I need—something to break the cycle of overthinking.

"I don't know," I mutter, my mind still tangled up in the mess with Theo.

Becca locks her eyes on mine, determined. "Nope. You're coming. It's not optional. Consider it a step in your emotional growth."

I roll my eyes, but I can't help the small laugh that escapes. "Emotional growth? Really?"

"Trust me," she says, her grin widening. "You're going to thank me later. A couple hours of good music, some bad decisions, and I promise you'll feel way better about everything. If nothing else, you can drink your feelings away."

I give her a look, but she's already pulling me in the direction of the parking lot.

"Fine. But I'm not going to like it," I say, though I know she's won.

"Great!" she says, practically bouncing. "Let's go, then. You'll see—one night of fun, and all your problems will magically disappear."

I don't believe for a second that my problems will vanish, but I follow her anyway. Because maybe, just maybe, a night of not thinking about anything could be the escape I need. Even if I'm walking into it with a knot in my stomach.

The party at Bridges Hall is just the beginning of what I'm realizing might be an even bigger mess than I thought. But maybe, for tonight, I can forget about it. Just for tonight.