The first day at college felt like I was stepping into a world that was both new and terrifying. The College of Arts was beautiful—old brick buildings with ivy crawling up the walls, classrooms filled with the smell of ink, paper, and the faint hum of creativity. I had spent years dreaming of this day, and now that it was here, it felt like everything was changing faster than I could keep up with.

I walked into my first class—a literature seminar—and was immediately hit with a rush of nerves. The students around me seemed so confident, so sure of themselves. Their voices blended into a noise I couldn't quite tune into, and I found myself retreating into the comfortable silence of my own thoughts.

I took a seat near the back, hoping to avoid attention. It wasn't that I didn't want to make friends; it was just that the idea of small talk, of trying to find my place in a room full of strangers, made me feel like I was suffocating. I didn't want to be the shy girl in the corner, but it seemed like that's who I was destined to be.

The professor walked in, an older woman with silver hair and a warm smile. Her eyes twinkled as she introduced herself, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging in the way she spoke about the subject—like literature was more than just words on a page; it was life, it was connection. Her energy was infectious, and before long, I found myself hanging on every word.

By the end of the class, I had spoken up once—just to answer a question about a book we were reading. But still, the thought of interacting with the other students filled me with anxiety. I wanted to retreat, to go back to the safe haven of the bookstore where things were simpler. Where I knew I belonged.

As the class ended, I gathered my things, slipping out of the room as quickly as I could. The hallway was buzzing with students talking, laughing, exchanging numbers for group projects. I felt out of place, like I was the only one who didn't quite know where to fit in.

When I finally stepped out of the building into the fresh air, I exhaled a breath I didn't realize I was holding. It was quiet here, away from the crowds of students, away from the noise in my head.

I wasn't sure how I was going to navigate this new chapter of my life. But I knew one thing for certain: I needed Max.

I didn't realize how much I had missed him until I walked into the bookstore a few hours later, exhausted from my day. I hadn't told him about my first day at college—about the excitement, the nerves, the quiet loneliness that seemed to follow me wherever I went. But I didn't need to. He could always tell when something was off.

Max was sitting behind the counter, as usual, with his feet propped up on a chair, lost in a sketchbook. He looked up as I entered, his eyes softening when he saw me. His gaze always had that effect on me—calming and reassuring, like everything would be okay just because he was there.

"Hey," he said, setting his pencil down and giving me a lazy smile. "How was the first day?"

I didn't know where to begin. I felt like I had so much to say, but none of it seemed to come out right. Instead, I just shrugged and sank into one of the cozy armchairs near the window, letting my bag fall to the floor beside me.

"It was... a lot," I said, staring at my hands. "I don't know if I'm cut out for it."

Max leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter, his gaze intense. "You don't have to have it all figured out on day one, Liv," he said, his voice low and steady. "You're just starting. It's okay to feel like this is overwhelming."

I looked at him, surprised at how well he seemed to understand. How could he always know exactly what to say to make me feel like I wasn't alone in my anxiety?

"I guess I just don't fit in there," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "Everyone seems so... sure of themselves. They know what they're doing, what they want. I feel like I'm just faking it."

Max stood up from the counter, walking over to where I was sitting. He crouched down in front of me, his eyes meeting mine with such tenderness that my chest tightened. "Liv, you don't have to be anything but yourself. That's the whole point of college, right? To figure out who you are, what you want. And that takes time. You've got time."

His words wrapped around me like a warm blanket. I wasn't used to people being so open with me, so willing to listen without judgment. But with Max, it felt different. He never made me feel small or insignificant. He made me feel like my fears were valid and that I didn't need to have everything figured out just yet.

"Thanks," I whispered, smiling softly. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Max grinned, his eyes sparkling. "Probably still be stressed out about your first day, I guess."

I laughed, the tension in my chest easing. For the first time all day, I felt like I could breathe again. He had this way of making everything seem less complicated, of making me feel like I was capable of handling whatever came my way.

He stood up and extended a hand to me, and without thinking, I took it. He helped me up from the chair, his grip warm and reassuring.

"You want to go grab a coffee?" he asked, a teasing grin spreading across his face. "You deserve a break after surviving your first day."

I hesitated for a moment, the thought of being out in public with so many people around making me nervous. But then I remembered that I didn't have to face everything alone anymore. I had Max.

"Yeah," I said, my voice more confident than I felt. "Let's go."

We walked out of the bookstore together, the soft hum of the city welcoming us. It was quiet between us, but comfortable. I realized then that no matter how overwhelming everything seemed, no matter how much I doubted myself, I didn't have to figure it all out right now. I had Max, and that was enough for me—for now.

As we walked to the coffee shop, his hand brushed against mine, and I felt a flutter in my chest. It wasn't just the coffee I was looking forward to—it was the quiet moments like this, the ones where we didn't have to talk to understand each other. The ones where I could just be me, and Max could just be Max, and it was enough.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt like maybe I was going to be okay.