TANGLED GLANCES

Norman's POV

I glance up from where I’m standing outside the building and immediately spot her—Riley. She’s sitting at her desk beside the window alone strangely quiet I guess she's yet to socialize with people kinda makes me a tiny bit excited then I remember her walking with a group of girls must be her roomies.

Then, just for a moment, her eyes lift and meet mine. It’s not a soft look. Not a smile. Just direct. Observant. She’s sizing me up like she always does when she thinks I’m up to something—and let’s be real, I usually am.

I don't break eye contact. I never do. But she does. She looks away like it didn’t matter. Like she didn’t just scan my soul in two seconds.

I breathe out slowly. That look… it always does something to me.

Then I feel movement beside me. The girl I’d been casually flirting with leans in again, laughing at something I don’t remember saying. She’s close—too close. I look down at her blankly, not even trying to fake interest anymore. Her name? Completely gone from my memory. Probably never saved it in the first place.

Before I can figure out how to end this, another figure walks into my line of sight—headed straight for Riley. Tall, lean, dressed like he wants to stand out but not too much. Probably one of those "I'm lowkey stylish" types. I hate those types.

He says something to her, and she laughs. Not the laugh she gives me when I say something ridiculous and she tries not to smile. This one’s different. Polite. Measured. A laugh meant to fill space, not shared memories.

Still, it hits me like a punch to the gut.

That same tight, boiling feeling starts rising in my chest again. Jealousy. Possessiveness. Confusion. Whatever the hell it is—it’s familiar. And it’s always ugly.

I tense my jaw, fighting the instinct to just walk over there and make the guy uncomfortable enough to walk away. I’ve done it before. Too many times. Riley knows it too. Sometimes she gets mad. Calls me out for being “a caveman,” or says I act like I own her. But deep down, I don’t think she ever hated it. Not really. Because underneath all that fire, I always saw it—that flicker of something else. A flash of pride. Like a small part of her was glad someone cared enough to claim her, even if she’d never admit it out loud.

Still, now’s not the time.

If I step in again, I know exactly what’ll happen. I’ll overreact. Say something sharp. Maybe even do something petty, and Riley will roll her eyes, call me out, and storm off. And worse, this time… she might mean it.

I reach for my phone and open my chat with James.

We always promised we’d look out for her. That was the deal. The two of us, keeping her safe—not just from strangers, but from heartbreak, from people who didn’t know her the way we did. She’d been through enough before we ever met her. We made a silent pact: Riley doesn’t get hurt again. Not on our watch. She may think that I don't care about her and love taunting her but I do I taunt and tease her cause that's the only way I know to talk to her without my emotions flooding out.

But lately, I’ve been crossing lines. Thinking about her in ways James and I never talked about. Feeling things I’m not sure I should be feeling. And when I see other guys around her, it gets harder and harder to pretend I don’t care.

I start typing:

Me: Some guy’s talking to her again. Tall, hoodie guy. Came outta nowhere.

Me (again): I wanna say something, but I won’t. Can you go check instead?

I stare at the screen. James hasn’t replied. The typing bubble flickers, then vanishes.

I can already imagine what he’d say. Something like, “Relax, bro. She’s allowed to talk to people,” or “You’re getting too deep again.”

He’s right. But that doesn’t help.

Beside me, the no-name girl speaks up. “Hey,” she says, nudging me playfully, “you just ghosted me mid-flirt. What’s going on over there?”

I blink at her. I’d almost forgotten she was there. And now, looking at her, I feel… nothing.

“Nothing,” I say flatly. “Just… needed to check something.”

She leans closer, clearly not picking up the signs. “You sure? You kinda tensed up when you saw that girl.”

I shoot her a quick glance. “She’s not just ‘that girl.’”

“Oh,” she says, mock surprise in her voice. “Jealous boyfriend vibes?”

“Not a boyfriend,” I say, too fast.

“Right,” she smirks. “Just emotionally attached, territorial, and trying not to admit it.”

I don’t even answer. I wave her off. “You should go. I’ve got stuff to handle.”

Her face falls, just a little.But she gets the hint and walks away, muttering something under her breath that I don’t catch—and don’t care to.

The truth is, I flirt with girls like her to keep myself distracted. To pass time. To pretend that Riley isn’t constantly in the back of my mind, stirring up feelings I don’t understand and can’t control.

But no matter how many names I forget, or laughs I fake, it always comes back to her.

Riley.

She’s still talking to the guy. Her body language is neutral, arms crossed but not defensive. She’s not pushing him away, but she’s not leaning in either. That helps. A little.

Still, I keep watching. Watching like I always do. Like I can’t help it.

I remember the first time I saw her—really saw her. She was new, quiet, but with that kind of energy that pulls people in without trying. Me and James noticed her at the same time. It was like some invisible thread tied her to us.  She didn’t say much back then. Just nodded, kept to herself. But something about her silence was louder than most people’s words. Eventually she became closer to James and they became best friends I didn't want to consider her my best friend because something within me knew that one day I'd get sick of it I just liked to remain her best friend's best friend it was easier that way to not get too close to her.

She opened up slowly. Piece by piece. And somehow, the more I got to know her, the harder it became to look away.

Now it’s like she’s part of my DNA. Like I’d forget how to breathe if she wasn’t around.

My phone buzzes. James finally replies.

James: Calm down. I’ll handle it. Don’t make a scene.

James: You need to chill. We said we’d protect her, not guard her like property.

I read his message and shove the phone back in my pocket. I know he’s right. I know I’m slipping. This isn’t about protecting her anymore. This is about me needing her to be mine—and hating that I can’t say it out loud.

Not to her. 

Not to James. 

Not even to myself.

Riley glances over again. For a second, her eyes dart past the guy and find me. She doesn’t smile. But she holds the look this time. Longer. Like she knows exactly what I’m thinking.

And I wonder if she’s doing all of this on purpose.

I remember last night during prep maybe I went a little far with my taunting last night but I can't apologize to her she may still be mad for a while but she'll come around I know.

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