Waiting for Trip McKenna was like waiting for rain to fall from a dark storm cloud.

I knew he was attending Macallan's Monday morning campaign meeting in Mrs. Aspen's classroom, but he'd yet to show up despite his roommate's presence beside his girlfriend and a scowling Win Petrov. I assumed Win's scowling had at least something to do with a conversation I'd overheard between him and Macallan in which he expressed concerns that having Jameson, the current student body president, in attendance would be bad for her image.

''You're your own candidate, Macallan,'' Win had said in a hushed tone prior to Jameson's arrival.''Having the sitting president here could inadvertently mislead your future constituency, and give your opponents ammunition-''

"This is high school, Win. I don't actually have a constituency,'' she'd retorted in that angelic yet firm way of hers. ''You're the mastermind behind this campaign, but please don't drive me crazy with political jargon just yet.''

If my apprehension over Trip's arrival wasn't about to swallow me whole, I would've disputed Win's status as a mastermind and pointed out that he was driving me crazy. His involvement in Macallan's campaign made his presence feel borderline constant. It was unfortunate that I was the only one of my friends who seemed to mind.

Finally, Trip entered the classroom with his backpack slung over one shoulder and his curls going every which way like he'd just climbed out of bed. After exchanging a few words with Jameson, he gradually made his way over to where I'd sequestered myself off in a corner with an air of casualness that might have been deliberate.

Despite spending the better part of the last 36 hours preparing for this moment, I panicked and resorted to mundane niceties.

"Good morning." I mentally kicked myself for speaking in a high and strained voice that wasn't anything like I'd heard before.

"Morning," Trip said, his tone excruciatingly cordial.

"I'm glad you're here."

A muscle in his jaw twitched as his gaze swept the classroom. "The plan's to hang up the campaign flyers, right?"

I nodded quickly, fidgeting with the sleeve of my cardigan. "For us, yes. Win Petrov planned other campaign nonsense involving baked goods, but he's delegating to Gianna and Kelsey-"

I abruptly stopped talking mid-sentence because Trip side-stepped me and approached the table with the campaign flyers. I didn't move a muscle as I watched him briefly chat with Macallan and collect a stack of flyers that displayed my friend's stunning picture. Anxiety fluttered inside my ribcage as he returned to me, armed with an escape clause.

"I'm short on time," Trip explained in a clipped voice. "I've got a Guys With Ties meeting, and I need to swing through Headmistress Harvey's office before the first bell for the first round of Valedictorian interviews."

Trip was already halfway to the door before I realized that he intended to leave me alone in a crowded room. My body jolted itself into action as though I was a marionette with someone pulling my strings.

"Trip, wait!"

And he did.

The relief that fired through me was almost painful. I felt the itchy weight of a few pairs of prying eyes on me as I caught up to Trip and assumed I'd spoken a little too loud. But that didn't matter. I wasn't a young school girl who needed to use her inside voice.

When I arrived in front of Trip, he faced me squarely with a neutral expression. I dared to trail a hand slowly down his arm, from shoulder to fingertips, and his eyes tracked my movements.

"We can do the flyers together," I spoke softly, looking at Trip who was still looking at my hand that now held one of his. I felt the rough calluses at the base of his fingers, and knew he'd earned them from gripping his lacrosse stick because I had nearly identical ones. "I'll go pick some up and tell Macallan that-"

Trip shook his head, and lightly tugged his hand out of mine to slip on the second strap of his backpack. "No, you should stay."

The relief I'd felt earlier turned to ice in my veins.

I was on the cusp of losing my mind and pride by begging him not to avoid me. "Trip, please. I want to come with you. I need us to-"

"Are you two heading out?" asked Win, stepping up to us and with that damn clipboard of his in hand. His midnight hair was equally messy as Trip's, but it lacked the effortless curl.

"Yes."

"Just me."

The divergence of our simultaneous responses sent little black dots scattering across my vision. As I tried to blink them away, I saw Win's green eyes shifting between Trip and me as though he was on the verge of drawing some abstract conclusion.

"Well, whatever the case might be, I want to remind you both of the regulations for where on campus the campaign flyers are permitted-"

"No need, I read the email," Trip interrupted and returned his attention to me as he stole another step towards the door. "Chan, I'm serious. Just let me go."

''I...'' Words deserted me as a knot clogged up my throat, and I once again found that it hurt to look at Trip. Then I realized that Win still stood beside us, his expression straddling the line between annoyed and amused.

Win also seemed to realize that he was still standing there and cleared his throat as he took an exaggerated step away from us. ''Then I'll leave you to it,'' he said.

I watched Win effortlessly reinsert himself into a conversation with Macallan and Jameson, then turned back to Trip in time to see him give an uncharacteristic eye-roll. Despite having undoubtedly directed it at Win, the action unnerved me.

This boy standing in front of me wasn't the Trip McKenna that Cannondale knew. He wasn't the beloved lacrosse captain who maintained an impeccable reputation for being the genuine kind of cool and self-assured. His eyes still held traces of my favorite shade of gold, but everything else about this boy was cold and foreign.

''Trip,'' I pleaded in a voice that only he would hear. I was trying desperately hard to keep it in, to keep it together to prove to him that I wasn't made of glass, but my eyes started to prickle in preparation for tears.

The movement in Trip's throat reflected his hesitation. ''We're fine," he finally said, raking a hand through his curls. "Don't you trust me enough to believe that?''

I nodded, just once. ''I believe you.''

''See you in class.'' Trip pressed a ghost of a kiss to my cheek, and as I watched him leave, I swore a part of me left with him.

It was the same part of me that knew I was a liar. The same part that didn't believe Trip or even know what page he was on. One simple miscommunication had put yet another wall between us, and I was starting to doubt I would ever break through.

I felt a sudden pang of irritation, though I couldn't be sure if it was at him or myself.

✘ ✘ ✘

The remainder of the meeting went by in a blur. I forced myself to nod and smile at all the right moments. I hung up the campaign flyers in all of the designated locations. I tried and failed not to think about Trip McKenna.

''The Cannondale Weekly can't endorse my campaign even though their Editor-in-Chief is supporting mine,'' Macallan said to me as we left the meeting room with Kelsey and Gianna in tow. ''It's part of the reason why their staff writers published profiles for the other candidates. Like, I know Caroline wrote one and edited some of the others.''

''For who? I feel bad for them.''

I wasn't exaggerating. The profile Win wrote for Macallan was nothing short of amazing, and I didn't need to read the other profiles to know it was the best one the newspaper had published. I would never tell Win just how talented he was (he totally knew), but I would indirectly allude to it.

Macallan met my response with a comical eye roll. ''Peter Anderson. He's the current vice president of the student government. In theory, he's the top choice since our grade's current president isn't running again, but that's not the point. The point is you shouldn't feel bad because Win will polish all of them anyway. That's his job.''

''Well, you should make your relationship with Win exclusive. You don't want Caroline thinking she's qualified to help him with your campaign marketing and whatnot''

Macallan scoffed. "Sometimes, I think you despise this girl purely because you're enamored with Win.''

''Well, don't.'' I rubbed the back of my neck where the muscles had started to tense. ''I would never despise someone for that reason and that reason alone.''

Macallan's eyes sparkled with mischief. ''Of course, you wouldn't. You'd come up with a few other reasons to throw me off the scent.''

I was in no mood for jokes, but I wasn't going to make Macallan a victim. All she had to do was tolerate an endearing eye roll.

Before we arrived at the dining hall, I fabricated an excuse about needing to go to the athletic center to pick up a few special bandages for the turf burn on my left kneecap. As much as I loved having Macallan and Kelsey as my roommates, I rarely had alone time, and that was what I needed. More specifically, I needed fifteen minutes to relive my bad decisions while on the verge of spiraling.

A rare stillness occupied the athletic center. It was too early for students who had gym class during the first period to arrive, and spring athletes typically visited the trainer during the afternoon. I went up the main staircase but stayed clear of the athletic director's office, refusing to take the risk of engaging with him or anyone for that matter. At least that was what I'd thought until I rounded the corner that led to the locker rooms and saw Win Petrov.

It felt safe to assume he didn't see me because he didn't stop walking, and I doubted he'd pass up an opportunity to make a snide remark after our interaction at the campaign meeting. He'd witnessed unprecedented tension between Trip and myself, which was more than my friends could say.

While I should've continued on my way, I impulsively changed course. I quieted my footsteps and started following Win. I'd waited long enough to have a private word with him, and I couldn't keep my suspicions bottled up any longer - not even when it meant following him into the boys' locker room. The overpowering odor of dirty socks and sweat hit me immediately, burning my nose and nearly making me cough.

I slowed as I ventured down a long tiled hallway and cautiously turned into the main section of the locker room. The blue paint and alcoves unsurprisingly matched those in the girls' locker room. Acutely aware of how lucky I was that no one was here, I decided I should catch Win on his way out rather than blindly venture about. I ducked into the first alcove and gave a little yelp of surprise when I came face-to-face with Win. He had one shoulder leaned against the wall of lockers and his arms crossed in front of his chest.

''Why are you following me, Chandler?'' Per usual, Win addressed me with notes of boredom and exasperation in his voice. He acted as though nothing I could say could be of any interest to him.

I wasn't accustomed to being uninteresting and elected to disregard his question. ''You know, you're really starting to act like Macallan Blake's fairy godfather.''

''I prefer the title campaign manager,'' Win replied mildly.

"If you were actually her campaign manager, I'd advise her to fire you for having competing interests."

"And what exactly does that trumped-up allegation entail?"

"You're not the only one at the Cannondale Weekly who wrote candidate profiles," I said, relaying what I'd learned from Macallan. "I know that Caroline edited some of them, and it doesn't take a mastermind to know that she's not a fan of everyone in our campaign. I won't tolerate her so much as looking at Macallan's campaign strategy."

Win slammed a hand against the locker beside him, prompting me to nearly jump out of my Vejas. "Jesus, Chandler. How many times do I need to tell you that I only want to support Macallan?"

''But why?" I pressed, entirely unsatisfied with Win's response. His dedication to her campaign seemed overly altruistic to actually be out of the goodness of his heart. "Why are you so fixated on supporting Macallan?"

"Why?" Win echoed indignantly. "Well, I guess the concept of genuinely supporting someone must be foreign to you because the why should be pretty damn obvious. I think she deserves to be student body president because she's the best person for the job."

I scowled, still not convinced, but I refrained from pushing him further. For all my skepticism regarding his intentions, I fundamentally agreed with him. Macallan deserved to be student body president. Also, setting my curiosity aside, there was nothing to be gained by finding out what it would take to make Win snap and tell me whatever it was that he was so determined to withhold.

"Then you better know what you're doing, Petrov," I advised coldly. "Macallan deserves to win and she deserves the best from people."

"Yep, got it." Win cleared his throat, and shifted in his loafers as he regarded me with uncertainty in his eyes. "Hey, so it's not my business, but is everything alright between you and Trip? Things seemed...tense back at the meeting, and I didn't mean to interrupt."

A cynical laugh escaped me as I lowered myself onto the bench that ran vertically through the alcove. Even though I had a full day ahead of me, I was already exhausted. "Wow, I can almost appreciate the nerve it took for you to ask about my personal life, but honestly, I'm pretty damn numb to people assuming they're entitled to prying into it."

"I'm not trying to pry."

"You prefaced your question with it's not my business." I fixed him with a pointed look. "You're trying to pry, Win." I paused, folded my arms in front of my chest and inquisitively tilted my head. "What's your full name?"

Win's eyebrows disappeared behind his mop of midnight hair. "Odd segue. Why do you want to know?"

I offered him a deliberately casual shrug. He didn't need to know I was living out a conversation that I wish I'd had with someone else. "I'm curious, and I'm assuming it's an easy question to answer...unless me knowing your full name isn't my business."

Win's mouth twitched, and he eyed me for a prolonged moment as if he couldn't discern whether this was some kind of trap. I was about to assure him that it wasn't when he finally replied, "It's Winslow."

"That's a nice name."

"Thanks, I guess." Win busied himself with unlocking what had to be his gym locker. After removing a drawstring bag and shutting the locker once more, he turned to me expectantly as if to say I answered your question, now answer mine.

I opened my mouth then shut it again. I let myself sit on my next words for a moment, mulling over the very real possibility that I would live to regret them.

After inhaling a measured breath, I decided I could stomach the risk. "I made a mistake. There was a stupidly complicated miscommunication, and I made a stupid, selfish mistake. So what you observed back there...I think I deserved that."

One corner of Win's mouth lifted to form a curly sort of smirk that I hadn't seen before. However, I wasn't someone who was on the receiving end of such smirks.

"Everyone makes stupid, selfish mistakes in their life." Win leaned his back against the lockers. "You're not that special, Chandler England."

I scoffed, borderline insulted by Win's response, but I couldn't deny that there was something almost sincere about how he was looking at me. Like maybe he knew that I'd just told him something that I hadn't even told my friends.

That realization prompted me to inhale a tight breath before responding, "Well, thank you for your truly supreme wisdom, Winslow Petrov."

Win huffed out something that wasn't quite a laugh. "I won't claim to know anything of substance about Trip McKenna, but if he's half as smart as everyone at Cannondale thinks, then I'm sure he'll forgive you."

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked, my uncertainty prolonging each word.

"Because you look like you need to hear it."

"But do you mean it?"

"You're always going to question my intentions, aren't you?"

I dipped my head as I grinned and stood up. "I can't promise you that. "

"To be fair, I wouldn't believe anything you promised me."

Before I could conjure up a witty response, Win brushed past me and started down the hallway. Just when I thought he'd ditched me, he called out, "Well are you going to brood or come to breakfast?"

"I can do both."

Win's laugh echoed softly in the quiet of the locker room, and I smiled for the first time in the last 36 hours.

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i have the big MO (momentum) right now, so i'm hoping to commit to semi - regular updates. tysm for reading & i hope this chapter injured you but like in a fun way ✨

also, i wish i could send handwritten notes to everyone who votes 😇 most of you have been here since early 2021 which is genuinely so special and rewarding 🤍