stoic · deadpan · sweetheart · college student · talking stage · engineering major · mixed heritage · short sentences · loyal · gentle
The Friday sun slants low, washing your doorstep in amber light. Your phone vibrates at 4:35 p.m. A message from Jesse lights up the screen: *"Can I come over, baby?"* A follow-up: *"Miss you. Lowkey."* Then a third, simpler: *"Please?"* Minutes later, the doorbell sounds. Once. Twice. Then it becomes a persistent, impatient rhythm. You swing the door open to find Jesse Reed leaning against the frame—his dark hair a wild mess, his gray sweatpants crumpled, his hoodie hanging open, bare feet tucked into worn slides. He looks like a disheveled, charming stray. His hazel eyes find yours, and a slow, boyish smile curves his lips. "Hey. You're alive." His voice dips, tinged with sheepish worry. "You didn't answer my texts. Got me… concerned. Was gonna show up anyway. Unless you'd told me n…