Chapter 4
1295words
Zoe stood in her tiny NYU dorm room, oversized suitcase beside her. The smell of old furniture and disinfectant hung in the air, Manhattan's constant hum filtering through the window. Everything here was worlds away from her spacious Westchester home with its quiet backyard.
She had made it.
For two years, she'd sacrificed nearly all fun. Her life had become a straight line from high school to NYU. She never drew anymore—the technical pens he'd given her gathered dust in a drawer. She never asked Lucas about Caleb either.
She'd forced herself to box up memories of him and that rainy Greenwich Village night, along with her childish infatuation.
She'd gotten into NYU for herself, she repeated like a mantra. For herself, for her own life. Not for anyone else.
But when Lucas called about throwing her a "Welcome to New York" party, that sealed box of memories cracked open slightly.
"I'll bring my crew and introduce you to some upperclassmen," Lucas said excitedly. "I've invited Caleb too—he's killing it on Wall Street now. Might help you land an internship someday."
Zoe gripped the phone, palm suddenly sweaty. "...Sure."
She heard herself answer in a voice so calm it felt like someone else's.
The party was at a trendy Italian place in the East Village. When Zoe arrived, the restaurant buzzed with energy. Lucas's friends filled a long table, their animated conversations punctuated by laughter. They greeted her with enthusiastic whistles.
"Damn, Lucas, is this your genius artist sister?" a tall guy asked with a wink. "Even prettier than her photos!"
Zoe forced a polite smile and sat beside her brother. She felt like an anthropologist observing an unfamiliar tribe, disconnected from every conversation around her. She sipped her lemon water, eyes unconsciously scanning the crowd.
He wasn't here yet.
This realization brought both relief and a subtle disappointment she refused to acknowledge.
Just as her mind wandered, the restaurant door opened. A man in a dark gray suit without a tie walked in. He handed his black coat to the attendant, unbuttoning his collar as he approached their table. His hair was shorter now, revealing his broad forehead, his profile sharper and more mature. No longer the casual college guy in a worn hoodie. He carried the shrewd, weary air of adulthood—of climate-controlled office buildings and financial battlefields.
It was Caleb.
The moment he appeared, attention shifted to him.
"Caleb, you bastard! Being late means three penalty drinks!" Lucas laughed, punching his arm.
"Just got off work. Traffic's a nightmare." Caleb's voice had deepened since she'd last heard it. He fielded his friends' jokes easily, his gaze sweeping the room until it landed on Zoe.
In that moment when their eyes met, Zoe felt her heart clench.
The smile on Caleb's face faltered. Surprise flashed across his eyes, as if adjusting to an unexpected sight.
"Zoe?" he ventured.
"Hi, Caleb." She aimed for casual but felt her lips tremble slightly. She didn't call him "Caleb" with the respectful tone she'd used as a teen—that now seemed childish and awkward.
"You..." he seemed about to say something, then thought better of it, settling for a smile. "I almost didn't recognize you. You've really grown up."
"It's been two years," Zoe said flatly, as if commenting on the weather.
"Caleb, stop hogging the freshman and sit down! We were just talking about you!" one of his friends called.
Caleb was pulled to sit beside Lucas, directly across from Zoe. She immediately lowered her head, pretending to study the menu, but she could feel his gaze—curious and assessing—landing on her periodically.
She hated this feeling.
It had taken her two years to escape that pathetic role of pining after him. She'd thought she was over it, that she could treat him as just another of Lucas's friends. But the moment he appeared, with just one look, her defenses crumbled.
Throughout dinner, Zoe ate mechanically, tasting nothing. She listened to their conversation, hearing Caleb discuss stocks, mergers, and market trends in professional jargon she barely understood. He inhabited a different world now—one she could never access.
Midway through the meal, an upperclassman beside her—apparently the basketball team's star point guard—turned his attention to her.
"So, Zoe, what's your major?" He leaned in close, his overpowering cologne assaulting her senses.
"Art history." Zoe shifted away slightly.
"Wow, an artist!" he exclaimed with exaggerated enthusiasm. "We need someone to design our team poster next season. Interested?"
"I just started school, so maybe..."
"Don't be modest," he interrupted, waving over a waiter. "What are you drinking? Ditch the lemon water. Tonight's on me."
"I don't drink. Thanks." Zoe declined firmly.
"Come on, just try it. The sangria here is amazing—barely any alcohol." He persisted, already ordering from the server.
Zoe's brows furrowed. She hated this pushy disregard for her boundaries. Just as she prepared to refuse more forcefully, a calm voice cut in from across the table.
"Jack," Caleb interjected, fixing the senior with a steady gaze. "Did you see that market report I mentioned earlier?"
Jack's attention immediately shifted. "No way! Let me see!" He pulled out his phone, completely forgetting about the drink order.
Zoe glanced up just in time to catch Caleb looking away. He gave her a quick, barely perceptible nod that said: you're welcome.
Zoe's heart raced traitorously.
She was furious with herself for still needing his rescue. Yet simultaneously, that familiar feeling of being protected washed through the cold barriers she'd built, warm and unstoppable.
She realized some things never changed. Like his quiet thoughtfulness.
The party broke up near midnight. People left in small groups, either heading to another venue or home. Zoe just wanted to escape the suffocating atmosphere.
"I'm heading back to my dorm," she told Lucas.
"I'll walk you—" Lucas began, but his friends dragged him away mid-sentence.
Zoe turned to leave alone when a voice called from behind.
"Zoe."
It was Caleb. He stood in the restaurant doorway, coat draped over one arm, the night breeze ruffling his thin shirt.
"Need something?" She stopped and turned.
"Nothing," he said, approaching her, his height allowing him to look down at her. "Just wanted to officially welcome you to NYU."
"Thanks," she said.
He studied her silently. Those deep brown eyes seemed especially intense in the darkness, hiding complex emotions. "You've... changed."
"People do that," Zoe replied flatly, as if quoting a textbook.
"True," he smiled, seeming to recognize the banality of his observation. "It's late. Not safe for you to walk alone. Let me get you a car."
"No need. I'll take the subway."
"Take a car," his tone brooked no argument. He pulled out his phone and ordered an Uber.
While waiting, they fell into awkward silence. Zoe stared at her shoes, profoundly uncomfortable.
"That Jack guy," Caleb said suddenly, "ignore him. He's just a spoiled jerk."
"I know," said Zoe.
"If you run into situations like that at school and can't handle them, call Lucas," he paused, then added, "or... you can call me."
Zoe's heart stuttered. She looked up, searching his eyes for some hidden meaning. But his gaze was calm—just the normal concern of an older brother figure.
The car arrived.
"Be careful," he said, opening the car door.
"Thanks. Bye, Caleb." She slipped into the car and pulled the door shut.
As the car pulled away, she watched in the rearview mirror as he stood motionless, only turning to leave after they rounded the corner.
Zoe leaned back against the cold leather, exhaling a long breath. She felt like she'd just survived a grueling battle.
