Page 187 of Left on Base

did u read that article?

i’m glad i didn’t date a journalist

too much power

tell camdyn she deserves to be on a cereal box

“wheaties, but for heartbreakers”

are u crying?

it’s okay if u are

actually i’m crying and i just dropped my ramen

I need to block him. There’s no other option.

I don’t remember decidingto go outside, but suddenly I’m in the hallway, sneakers half-tied, nerves jangling. I spot Inez at the Starbucks cart near my dorm—tall and narrow-shouldered, her black hair in a lopsided ponytail, dark eyes squinting behind thick glasses as she hunches over her phone, thumbs flying. Probably posting the article everywhere that matters.

“Hey.” My voice comes out embarrassingly quiet, but she jumps anyway, almost dropping her coffee. The lid wobbles before she grabs it with both hands, knuckles white. She looks up, eyes wide, mouth opening and closing like she’s lost her words.

“Oh. Uh, hi, Jaxon.” She pushes her glasses up—smudged, I notice, with fingerprints—and shifts her weight from foot tofoot, like she’s thinking about running. Her cheeks flush and she fiddles with the cardboard sleeve, peeling a corner with her thumbnail.

I hesitate. She’s still as awkward as I remember—maybe even more now, caught in a conversation she didn’t plan for. I pull out my phone, holding it up as some kind of peace offering. “Thank you for writing that,” I manage, and of course my voice cracks. Great. Super cool.

She blinks, startled, gaze darting from my phone to my face and back, like she’s searching for a script she misplaced. “She earned it,” Inez whispers, voice so soft I almost miss it, like we’re sharing a secret in a library.

“She did. But… so did her performance last year.” I swallow, trying to keep my own nerves down. “She was a freshman and she earned every right to be in that circle.”

Inez nods, but the motion is jerky, anxious. She wraps both hands around her cup, anchoring herself. “I know, and I—I’m really, really sorry for the harm I caused her. I hope she…” She trails off, staring into the steam rising from her coffee. “I hope she reads it.”

“She might not,” I admit, protective of Camdyn. “Not after what was written before.”

There’s a beat. Inez bites her lip, worrying the chapped skin. “Can I—um, can I ask you something?” Her voice wobbles, and she pulls her sleeve over her hand, hiding behind it.

“Yeah.”

She exhales, then blurts, “Did you ever actually like me?” The question just hangs there, heavy and awkward, and she immediately looks away, focusing hard on the recycling logo on her cup.

I want to lie, but the urge to be honest is stronger. “I did. I just… my feelings for Camdyn were always there. I can’t pretendyou and I would’ve been more than friends, because we wouldn’t have, and leading you to believe otherwise isn’t fair.”

She nods, swallowing hard, her glasses sliding down her nose again. She doesn’t bother to push them up. “Yeah, I figured,” she mumbles. “I saw the way you looked at her at the party and I… I think that’s when I knew.” She glances up, for a second, then looks away again. “Didn’t stand a chance.”

I wince. She’s not wrong. Probably everyone saw it before I did.

Inez manages a shaky little smile, more apology than anything. “She’s an amazing person, Jaxon.”

“She is,” I say, and mean it. I want to add, so are you, but the words stick, because I’m not sure I believe it—not yet, not after what she did to Camdyn.

Inez glances over her shoulder, hugging her coffee to her chest. “I, um, I should go. I have a thing.” She steps backward, almost bumps the recycling bin, recovers, cheeks flaming. “See you around, Jaxon.”

She disappears into the streetlight glow, her tall, slender frame swallowed by the night. Campus settles into its late-night hush. My phone buzzes.

Fork Guy again.

FORK GUY

dude are u okay?

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