Page 51 of Guarded Love

Instead of the usual irritation I feel when he’s around, a different emotion flickers to life: curiosity. And I hate myself for thinking that.

Thankfully, I get through security without incident. I do my best to quickly gather my belongings and head toward the gate, deliberately not looking to see if Blaise is following even though I know we will meet up eventually.

I find our gate easily enough. It’s less crowded than I expected, but then again, it’s early. Several students wearing Crestwood hats and sweatshirts already sit near the windows. I recognize a few faces from the orientation, but no one I know well.

I spot Professor Wallace and someone I assume is another professor, standing near the gate agent’s desk. She has some papers in her hand, and I guess she’s trying to get us organized, which sounds like hell. She’s wearing a button-down white shirt, jeans, a blazer, and sneakers. I wait until she walks back over to the group of students to greet her.

“Good morning, Professor.”

Professor Wallace turns and a small, professional smile appears on her face when she sees me. "Willow, good morning. Glad you made it alright." She makes a note on the sheet of paper she has, and I assume it’s to mark me as being present.

"Traffic wasn't too bad, thankfully,” I reply, trying to sound more awake and upbeat than I feel.

"Excellent." She gestures with her head to the group of students. "Almost everyone's here, just waiting on a fewstragglers. Find a seat, get comfortable. We should be boarding in about forty-five minutes."

“Thanks.” I nod and immediately start scanning for somewhere, well anywhere, that isn’t in the middle of the group. My social battery is already circling the drain and we haven’t even boarded yet. There’s a spot near a set of tables and chairs that allow you to hangout while charging your devices that looks inviting. It’s not too close to everyone else, but close enough to hear if Professor Wallace decides to start yelling.

Looks perfect to me.

I sink into the seat, drop my backpack to the floor, and pull out my phone along with my EarPods. If I’d forgotten them, I knew I would have been on my knees begging Mom to overnight them to me because I need them like I need a security blanket. They help me shield myself from the general public because it’s the universal signal that I want to be left alone.

I pop them in my ears and find myself scrolling through post after post on social media. I’ve come across a meme. An engagement announcement. An ad for skincare I Googled once in 2022 and haven’t stopped seeing since. But if I’m being honest with myself, I’m not reading or absorbing a thing. That’s cause my brain’s somewhere else entirely and it’s circling around Blaise Dalton.

He was…different with her.

Gentle. Calm. And not that he isn’t that way usually, but I could see that he treated her differently than everyone else. And it’s not that I’m jealous of how and why he acted this way, it’s just fascinating. Like whatever she said deserved his full attention, and he gave it without hesitation.

I look up and find the subject in question standing next to Professor Wallace. It looks like he also came through security unscathed.Good for him.

He's nodding at something Professor Wallace is saying and I can see that he’s back to being “on”. I quickly look away when his gaze starts to drift in my direction.

The last thing I need is for him to catch me staring.

I pull up my Spotify and hit play on a playlist I made specifically for this trip, but the music feels like background noise because my brain is so fucking loud. It’s always like this. Many people think ADHD means I can’t focus, but really it’s that I’m focusing oneverything. It’s just not always on what I’m supposed to. Like I’ll be listening to music, sure, but also thinking about how I forgot to reply to that email from three days ago, and whether I packed deodorant, and how I accidentally ghosted my therapist, and oh right, how Blaise looked soft for half a second and now my nervous system’s acting like it’s a national emergency.

It’s exhausting.

Like trying to organize your thoughts while someone’s throwing tennis balls at your head. Which are on fire.

I try a breathing exercise I saw on my feed a couple of days ago. In through the nose, hold, out through the?—

Nope. Just made me more aware of how dry my mouth is.

I open my notes app and start to type something, hell anything, to get out of my head. Maybe a rough idea for an article I can write when we get back to Crestwood, but I only get as far as “remember to” before my fingers stop moving.

Because now Blaise is sitting down two rows across from me. Not next to me. Not near enough to talk. But enough that I can see him in my peripheral vision if I tilt my head slightly.

And of course, the second I think that, Idotilt my head. Slightly.

He’s got his phone out and he’s not paying me any mind. I try to read his expression, to get a glimpse of what he might be thinking, but I end up with nothing.

And because the universe clearly wants me to die of embarrassment, he glances up from his phone.

This time I don’t look away fast enough.

15

BLAISE

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