Page 28 of High Hopes

Mondays are never easy,but this one? It’s got me beat before I’ve even made it out of bed. My eyes feel glued shut, my limbs heavy and unwilling to move, and all I can think about is how I’m not ready to face another week of grinding effort.

I groan, stretching beneath the blankets, my body stiff from a restless night of tossing and turning. Maybe it’s the weight of the critique still clinging to me, or maybe it’s the fact that I stayed up too late talking to Liam.

I knew he had an early flight out this morning—he’s probably just landing in Raleigh now—but neither of us seemed willing to hang up. Every time the conversation lulled, we’d pick up again, something easy, something light, like the kind of chatter that fills the quiet when you’re sitting with someone you’ve known forever.

Except I haven’t known him forever. It’s only been a few weeks, but it feels . . . natural. Necessary, even. Like we’ve somehow skipped over all the usual barriers that make getting to know someone so exhausting.

I throw an arm over my eyes, replaying the weekend in my head. The critique at NCU, the professor’s cutting words echoing like a broken record:contrived.

I had thrown that piece together Friday night, dragged it into the critique unfinished and raw, full of potential but far from complete. And he still called it contrived. How? How could it feel fake when it was the truest thing I’d made in weeks?

I told myself to take it in stride, to see it as constructive feedback, but it’s hard to do that when it cuts so deep. Standing there in front of my peers, I felt gutted, and I wondered if he was right. If maybe I wasn’t cut out for this after all.

But then Liam’s voice was in my ear. Steady, unshakable. “It’s just one person’s opinion. You know what your work is. Don’t let some loser tell you it’s not good enough.”

He made it sound so simple. Like I could just decide not to let it bother me and move on. And for some reason, coming from him, it almost felt true.

I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling. His words are still there, faintly hovering in my mind, easing some of the tension in my chest. He didn’t have to stay on the phone, not when he had a flight to catch at dawn. But he did.

And the weirdest part? I don’t feel guilty for taking up his time. Usually, I’d be spiraling, worrying about whether I was a burden, but with Liam, it’s different. I don’t have to overthink everything. I can just be.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand, breaking the quiet, and I reach for it, fingers sluggish as I grab it. I squint at the screen—it’s a message from him.

Liam

just landed. hope you’re still sleeping off that grumpy coffee deprivation from last night

Birdie

just woke up. barely functioning. how was the flight?

Liam

short. missed out on sleep tho .. . wonder whose fault that is?

Birdie

definitely yours. you’re a terrible influence

Liam

glad to know I have such an effect on you

I shake my head, biting back a smile, but there’s no stopping the warmth that blooms in my chest. It’s too damn early to feel like this—like I’m walking around with some silly, giddy secret. But here we are.

I push myself out of bed and shuffle toward the kitchen. Sena’s already left for her seven-thirty class, so there are no distractions this morning. It’s just me, my coffee, and my thoughts about everything I still have to tackle.

I glance at the fridge, at the sticky note with my to-do list that’s hanging crookedly next to a picture of me and Sena at a festival. A get-to-know-you day before we officially moved in together, filled with cheap sangria and half-hearted critiques of overpriced art.

That day feels like a lifetime ago. The stillness before the surge.

Now, it’s everything at once—meet with Professor Tanaka, finish two more pieces for the proposal, somehow find time to polish my presentation, all while juggling work shifts and classes. And as if that weren’t enough, there’s the constant self-doubt creeping in every time I sit down at the wheel.

It’s still my happy place, but lately, I’ve started second-guessing. Overthinking. Doubting. Thank the heavens for Liam and his ever-present reassurances, always showing up like a lifeline just when I need it most.

I couldn’t lean on my old friends. After the accident, I didn’t want to let them in—not fully, not at all. They weren’t the kind of people who stick around when things get tough, and I think, deep down, I always knew that.

But with Liam, it’s different. Trusting him feels easy, effortless. Almost like it’s second nature, something I don’t have to question or force. But I’ve got enough on my plate without constantly overanalyzing my feelings for him.

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