Chapter 3

"Earth to Riley," Sarah said, waving her hand in front of my face. "You're totally spacing out. What's going on?"

"Nothing. Just thinking about stuff."

"What kind of stuff?" She followed my gaze across the quad to where the guys were playing frisbee. "Oh my god, are you finally ready to admit you like one of them?"

"What? No!" I said, way too fast.

"Riley Madison, you're a terrible liar." Sarah grinned. "Which one is it? Dylan with his whole 'let me cook for you' thing? Cameron and his mysterious artist vibe? Or Jake and those ridiculous muscles?"

"None of them," I protested, but my face was definitely turning red.

"Uh-huh. Sure." She bumped my shoulder. "For what it's worth, I think any of them would be lucky to have you. You guys have been dancing around each other for years."

Dancing around each other for years? Had it been that obvious to everyone except me?

Back in my room, I decided to try a different approach. Social media stalking - the modern college student's favorite detective tool.

I scrolled through my photos from last night until I found a good one of all of us before the power went out. Everyone looked happy and relaxed. Normal.

I posted it to my Instagram story with the caption: "Last night before the lights went out 💡⚡"

Then I waited.

Ethan liked it immediately, because he was always on his phone. Dylan liked it about ten minutes later, which was normal for him. Jake took an hour, but that wasn't weird either.

Cameron didn't like it at all.

That was definitely not normal. Cameron liked pretty much everything I posted, usually within the first hour. But this photo? Nothing.

"Okay, spill," Emma said, flopping down on my bed. "You've been acting super weird all day, and Sarah texted me that you were asking her about the guys. What's going on?"

"It's complicated," I said.

"Try me."

So I told them. Not about the kiss - that felt too private, too confusing to share yet. But I told them I thought one of the guys might like me, and I was trying to figure out who.

"Finally!" Emma squealed. "We've been waiting for this forever. Sarah owes me twenty bucks."

"You guys bet on my love life?"

"More like lack thereof," Sarah said, joining us. "So who do you think it is?"

"I honestly don't know. They're all acting weird."

"Weird how?" Emma asked.

I explained about the eye contact avoidance, the extra chattiness, the protective behavior, the social media silence.

"Sounds like they all like you," Sarah said matter-of-factly.

"That's impossible."

"Is it though?" Emma raised an eyebrow. "Riley, you're smart, funny, gorgeous, and you can put away pizza like it's your job. Plus you're basically the mom friend of our group. Of course they like you."

The mom friend. Great. That sounded super romantic.

"So what are you gonna do?" Sarah asked.

"I don't know. Wait and see if anyone makes a move, I guess."

But even as I said it, I knew I was lying. I wasn't the type to just wait around for things to happen.

If they weren't going to confess, I'd have to make them show their cards somehow.

I was already forming a plan in my head. Something direct but not too direct. Something that would get a reaction without being completely obvious about what I was fishing for.

A group text might work. Something ambiguous enough that only the guilty party would really understand, but specific enough to get a response.

"You're plotting something," Emma said, watching my face. "I can see those wheels turning."

"Maybe," I admitted.

"Just don't do anything too crazy, okay? You guys have a good thing going. Don't mess it up."

---

Sometimes the simplest approach is the most effective. If the mountain won't come to Mohammed, then Mohammed has to go to the mountain.

I was sitting on my bed at eight PM, staring at my phone screen while Emma studied at her desk. My fingers hovered over the keyboard for what felt like forever, typing and deleting different versions of the same message.

Option one: "Hey, we need to talk about last night."

Too direct. What if I was wrong about everything?

Option two: "Did something happen during the blackout that I should know about?"

Too vague. They could all just say no and I'd be back to square one.

Option three: "I know someone kissed me last night."

Too accusatory. What if it scared them off completely?

I flopped back on my bed and groaned.

"You okay over there?" Emma asked, not looking up from her textbook.

"Just trying to figure out this... thing."

"What kind of thing?"

"A complicated thing."

She finally turned around. "Riley, you've been staring at your phone for twenty minutes. Just send whatever message you're writing."

If only it were that simple.

I sat back up and tried again. This time I went for something that was specific enough to get a reaction, but ambiguous enough that only the guilty party would really understand.

"I know it was you last night. The mint didn't hide your nervousness, and honestly... your technique could use some work 😏"

I read it three more times, my heart pounding harder with each word. This message would either solve my mystery or completely blow up my friendships.

There was no going back once I hit send.

I took a deep breath, selected Dylan, Cameron, and Jake in my contacts, and pressed send before I could chicken out.

Then I immediately panicked.

What if they thought I was crazy? What if none of them had actually kissed me and I'd just imagined the whole thing? What if I'd just ruined everything over some weird blackout-induced hallucination?

I needed a distraction before I drove myself completely insane.

I opened up my favorite mobile game and tried to focus on something else. Usually I played with Dylan or Jake - they were both surprisingly good at carrying me through the harder levels. But tonight I was flying solo, and it showed.

First game: dead within two minutes.

Second game: even worse.

By the fifth game, I'd dropped three ranks and was seriously considering deleting the app entirely. My concentration was completely shot.

Every few minutes I'd check my messages, but nothing. Just the little "delivered" notification mocking me.

Maybe they were all asleep. Maybe they hadn't seen the message yet. Maybe they were all together somewhere, trying to figure out what the hell I was talking about.

At nine-thirty, my phone finally buzzed.