Page 2 of Only When We Fall

My fingers tighten on the fabric. It doesn’t belong here in my new life, yet I couldn’t seem to leave it behind.

Zara glances over. “Ex-boyfriend hoodie?”

I swallow. “That obvious?”

She doesn’t push. Just nods and throws me a mini packet of Haribo’s from her pocket like some kind of sugar-based peace healing. I catch it, laughing. “Thanks.”

I screw the hoodie into a ball and shove it under my bed.

After a quick change and two shared packets of crisps, Zara tugs me out the door. “We’re not sitting in tonight,” she says, already halfway down the hall. “Freshers Week waits for no one.”

I laugh, locking the door behind us. “Aren’t we supposed to go to some welcome talk or something?”

Zara waves that off. “We’ll bewelcomedat the student union bar. Trust me.”

I promised Mum and Eva that I wouldn’t let Uni life pass me by, so seizing the opportunity to explore is a great place to start,right?

The evening air is warm and full of excitement. Music drifts from windows, and groups of students spill out onto the grass in mismatched groups. Parents have long gone, leaving their babies to fend for themselves, and most have chosen it as a chance to crack open the spirits and drink themselves into chaos.

We loop around campus, Zara pointing out buildings as if she’s lived here for years. “That’s the library, ugly but essential.Over there’s the café, it’s over-priced but nice enough. And that’s the music building, full of tortured boys with floppy hair and superiority complexes.”

“Sounds dreamy,” I deadpan, and she cackles.

We end up near a low stone wall overlooking the sports field. A group of guys are playing some version of football that seems more like a warm-up than an actual game. Shirts are off and loud laughter floats around us.

One of the nearest guys glances our way, a smile spreading over his face. He’s cute in that cliched, tall, dark and handsome kind of way.

“Hey,” he says, flashing a grin that is almost offensively good-looking. “You two new?”

Zara answers for us. “Guilty.”

“I’m Mason. Third year. Captain of the rugby team, but don’t hold it against me.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Is this the part where you offer to give us a tour and then somehow forget to mention you have a girlfriend?”

He barks out a laugh. “Nah, I broke up with her last week. Your timing’s flawless.”

Zara’s enjoying this way too much. “Shame,” she says, “we’re only interested in committed emotional support types.”

Mason eyes me. “What about you? You look like the smart one.”

I meet his gaze, steady. “Depends on what you’re looking for.”

He tilts his head, amused. “Mystery. I like it.”

Someone shouts his name, and he walks backwards a few paces. “See you around, mystery girl.”

When he’s gone, Zara whistles. “Look at you, all cool and cryptic.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.”

“Exactly. And that’s what got his attention.”

And just like that, something shifts. It’s small, quiet. But real. For once, I’m not the girl waiting for someone to choose me. I’m not the punchline to a text message or the quiet shadow in the corner.

I’mhere.

And maybe I don’t know exactly who I am yet.

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