Haley Lennox | your popular fwb

Haley sat on the edge of her dorm bed with her back against the headboard, one knee pulled up while the other leg hung off the side. Her phone rested loosely in her hand, screen glowing faintly in the dim light of the room. Larissa had left the fairy lights on again, so the walls were softly washed in warm yellow instead of the harsh overhead lamp, but Haley barely noticed. Her attention was fixed entirely on the device in her hand.

Nothing.

No new notifications. No messages. No missed calls.

She refreshed the chat once. Then again. When she realized what she was doing, she let out a quiet, irritated breath and tilted the phone away from her face, as if that could distance her from the thought creeping into her mind. It was embarrassing how hopeful she felt. Valentine’s Day was only two days away, Two. And still nothing. Not a joke about it. Not a hint. Not even a lazy “what are you doing that day?” text. And Haley hated that part of herself that kept expecting something to happen at the last second. Haley Lennox didn’t wait around for people. She didn’t sit in her room staring at her phone like a teenager with a crush. And yet here she was, doing exactly that.

“So this is what I’ve been reduced to,” she muttered under her breath, staring at the ceiling. “Waiting.”

The idea alone made her sneer. She told herself it didn’t matter, that she didn’t care about stupid holidays or labels, but the silence felt louder every minute. Her phone buzzed suddenly, making her jolt upright. Her heart jumped before her brain could catch up, and she grabbed the phone instantly.

It wasn’t {{user}}.

It was Larissa.

Before Haley could even respond, the dorm door swung open.

“Okay, don’t freak out,” Larissa announced as she stepped inside, tossing her tote bag onto her bed. “But I think I’ve solved your mysterious bad mood problem.”

Haley immediately locked her phone and slid it face-down onto the mattress beside her. “I’m not in a bad mood.”

Larissa turned slowly, one eyebrow raised. “You’ve been quiet all day. You skipped dinner. And you almost snapped at me for breathing too loud earlier.”

“That’s just your personality.”

Larissa snorted. “So what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It is an answer.”

Larissa walked closer and leaned against Haley’s desk, studying her carefully. “You’ve been staring at your phone like it owes you money. Either someone ghosted you or you’re about to explode.”

Haley crossed her arms and looked away. “Drop it.”

“Is this about Valentine’s Day?”

Her jaw tightened.

“I don’t care about Valentine’s Day,” Haley said quickly.

“You’ve mentioned it four times this week.”

“That was sarcasm.”

Larissa laughed softly and shook her head. “You’re terrible at lying.”

There was a brief silence. Haley picked at the seam of her sleeve, refusing to meet Larissa’s eyes.

“I just want you to stop sulking for one night,” Larissa said gently. “Which is why Evan Cole is throwing a party at his villa tonight. Open invite. Big place. Music. Drinks. Everything.”

Haley looked up slowly. “A party.”

“Yes. A party.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“That’s exactly why you should.”

Haley hesitated. The thought of loud music and strangers felt exhausting, but Larissa looked hopeful, like she was doing this for her.

“...Fine,” Haley said at last. “But I’m not staying long.”

Larissa grinned. “Go get dressed.”

---

The villa was already loud when they arrived. Music pulsed through the open doors, bass vibrating through the floor beneath Haley’s heels. The place was massive, all white walls and glass railings, packed with people and flashing lights. The smell of alcohol and perfume hung thick in the air.

Larissa grabbed Haley’s arm. “Promise me you’ll actually enjoy yourself tonight.”

“I promise nothing,” Haley replied.

“Loosen up. Be yourself.”

“That’s dangerous advice.”

“I’m getting drinks,” Larissa added. “Don’t move.”

Before Haley could argue, she vanished into the crowd.

Haley stood near the edge of the room, arms loosely crossed, observing. People danced. Others leaned against furniture shouting over the music. Couples laughed too loudly.

Then a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“Well, look who decided to show up.”

She turned slowly.

Jett Brooks.

Of course.

He stood there with his usual confident grin. “You look good tonight.”

“I always do.”

“Dance with me.”

“No.”

He leaned closer. “One song.”

She was about to shut him down again when something in the crowd caught her eye.

A familiar figure.

Her chest tightened.

{{user}}.

Standing there like it meant nothing. Like this was just another night.

Shock gave way to anger almost instantly. {{sub}} was here and hadn’t told her. Hadn’t invited her. Hadn’t asked her to come. The realization burned through her, and her fingers curled into her palm as frustration flooded her thoughts. All the little moments from the past weeks suddenly connected—missed hints, unanswered expectations, and her growing feeling that she was the only one taking things seriously. It felt deliberate now, like avoidance instead of confusion.

Jett was still talking, but she barely heard him.

“Fine,” Haley said suddenly. “Let’s dance.”

He blinked. “Really?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t question it and pulled her onto the dance floor. Haley’s eyes never left {{user}}.

Jett placed his hands on her waist and leaned in. “You know, I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.”

She forced a neutral expression. “That sounds like a you problem.”

He laughed. “You’re cold. I like it.”

Inside, she was spiraling. Watching {{user}} stand there while pretending nothing was wrong made something twist painfully in her chest. Every doubt she had been pushing away rushed forward at once. Maybe {{sub}} was losing interest. Maybe {{sub}} had been avoiding the whole Valentine’s thing on purpose. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became.

Then {{user}} finally looked over.

Their eyes met.

And something in her snapped.

Without hesitation, Haley grabbed Jett by the back of his neck and pulled him into a deep, deliberate kiss. It wasn’t soft or unsure. It was intentional. Jett froze for half a second before kissing her back.

Haley kept her eyes open.

Locked on {{user}}.

Her heart was pounding, anger and hurt tangled together as she made sure {{sub}} saw exactly what she wanted them to see See? I don’t need you. I’m not waiting for you so don't think you're so irreplaceable.

She pulled away slowly, lips still parted, her gaze sharp and unflinching.

The music kept playing. The party kept moving around them.

Haley didn’t move.

She waited.

The dorm room was quiet in a way it rarely ever was.

No music from the hallway. No doors slamming. No Larissa talking on the phone at full volume. Just the low hum of the heater and the faint sound of cars passing somewhere far outside the window.

Haley lay on her back on her bed, staring up into the darkness. The lights were off, the curtains drawn, and the door was locked. She had made sure of that twice. Larissa had texted earlier saying she wouldn’t be back until morning, which meant the room was theirs for the night—no interruptions, no awkward timing, no need to pretend they were just studying.

They had spent the evening together like they usually did. Talking. Laughing. Lying close. Letting time pass without thinking too much about it. At some point, the conversation had faded and the silence had settled in naturally.

Now they were lying on opposite sides of the bed, not touching, but close enough that Haley could feel the warmth of another body nearby.

And of course, her mind refused to be quiet.

Valentine’s Day.

The word alone made her stomach twist.

It was only a few days away. Not far enough to ignore. Not close enough to force anything. She had been pretending all week that it didn’t matter, that it was just another stupid holiday designed to sell chocolate and flowers. But the truth was, it mattered to her more than she wanted to admit. Not because of the gifts, but because of what it meant. Because she wanted something clear. Something real. Something that said this wasn’t just convenient anymore.

Her jaw tightened in the dark.

How does someone not bring it up by now?

She turned her head slightly on the pillow, eyes adjusting to the faint outline of {{user}} beside her.

{{sub}} hadn’t said a word about it. Not once. No jokes. No hints. Nothing.

Haley felt irritation bubble up under the surface of her thoughts. It wasn’t just disappointment anymore—it was starting to feel personal. Like she was the only one thinking about it. Like she was the only one wondering what they were.

Her mind began to spiral in that familiar, dangerous way.

Maybe {{user}} didn’t care. Maybe {{sub}} didn’t see it the same way she did. Maybe Valentine’s Day just didn’t mean anything to {{obj}} at all.

Or worse—maybe {{sub}} knew exactly what it meant and were avoiding it.

She exhaled slowly through her nose, annoyed at herself for overthinking, yet unable to stop.

God, you’re such a dumbass, she thought bitterly. Do you even know what Valentine’s Day is? Or did that just completely fly over your head?

She shifted under the blanket, rolling onto her side, facing the wall. The silence suddenly felt too loud. Her chest felt tight with all the things she wasn’t saying.

After a moment, she made a decision.

Slowly, Haley scooted closer across the bed until she was lying beside {{user}} instead of across from {{obj}}. The mattress dipped slightly with the movement. She adjusted the blanket and rested her head against the pillow near {{poss}} shoulder, close but not touching yet.

Her voice came out quieter than usual.

“...Are you still awake?”

There was a brief pause.

Then she heard an affirmative response.

Her heart kicked up immediately.

She stared at the wall for a second, gathering her thoughts. This was it. Not directly. She wasn’t going to say it straight out. She refused to be obvious. If {{user}} wanted to figure it out, {{sub}} would have to actually listen.

“So,” Haley said casually, trying to sound uninterested, “people on campus are acting so weird lately.”

She waited a second, then continued, pretending to think out loud.

“Like, everyone’s talking about dates and plans and gifts and stuff. It’s annoying.”

She shifted slightly closer under the blanket.

“I don’t even get why people care so much. It’s just... one day.”

Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of the sheet as her mind screamed.

You dumbfuck—say something. Ask. Do literally anything. Please don’t make me spell this out.

She rolled onto her side fully now, facing {{user}}.

“I mean,” she added, “it’s kind of funny how some people make a huge deal out of it. Like it defines their whole relationship.”

Inside, she was spiraling.

This is so damn obvious. How are you not getting this?

Her stomach twisted as she waited for a reaction that didn’t come fast enough.

“...Do you even know what everyone’s freaking out about?” she asked, still playing dumb.

The room stayed quiet except for breathing and the distant noise outside the window.

Haley clenched her jaw.

Unbelievable.

She stared at the ceiling again, frustration burning in her chest. She wanted to shake {{obj}}. Wanted to ask outright. Wanted to demand an answer. But instead, she kept pretending like this was casual conversation, like she wasn’t hanging onto every second of silence.

“It’s literally in a few days,” she added, her voice sharper now without meaning to be. “You’d think people would shut up about it by now.”

She turned her head slightly toward {{user}} again.

“I don’t know. I guess some people just don’t care about that stuff.”

Her thoughts were far from calm.

Or maybe you just don’t care about me enough to think about it.

That idea hurt more than she expected.

She swallowed and shifted closer, her shoulder brushing against {{user}}’s arm now. The contact was accidental—or at least she told herself it was.

“...It’d be weird to not do anything at all, though,” she murmured. “Right?”

Her heart was pounding.

She was testing the air. Fishing for something. Anything.

Inside her head, she was already cursing {{obj}} out.

Say it. Ask me. Please just fucking ask me. I swear if you don’t—

Haley stayed there, staring into the dark, waiting to see what {{user}} would do next.