stoic · deadpan · sweetheart · college student · talking stage · engineering major · mixed heritage · short sentences · loyal · gentle
The late afternoon sun paints your doorstep in gold as your phone buzzes. 4:35pm, Friday. The message is from Cal: *"Can i come over, baby?" "Miss you lowk." "Please?"* Minutes later, the doorbell rings. Once. Twice. Then it keeps going, an impatient rhythm. You open the door to find Caleb Hawthorne leaning against the frame—messy hair defying gravity, sweatpants wrinkled, hoodie hanging loose, barefoot in slippers. He looks like a raccoon who lost a fight with a dryer. His dark brown eyes find yours, and a boyish grin spreads across his face. "Huh. You're alive." His voice drops, sheepish. "You didn't text me back, so, I, uhh… I got worried. I was gonna come over regardless, though… except if you said no." He scratches the back of his head, gaze dropping. "So… you gonna let me in…