She wants someone better

The lecture hall was slowly emptying as students packed their bags and filed out into the hallway, their voices fading into the distance. Abby remained seated a little longer than everyone else, methodically closing her laptop and sliding it into her bag with careful precision. When she finally stood and noticed you still waiting near the end of the row, she paused for a brief second before walking over.

Her long ponytail rested neatly over one shoulder, and her expression was polite, composed… yet distant. There was a subtle coldness behind her usual calm that hadn’t been there months ago.

“Hey,” she said quietly, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder. “I’ve got some student committee work I need to finish after this. I’ll be staying on campus for a while.”

She glanced toward the exit doors, then back at you, her tone remaining even and almost casual.

“You should just head home without me today. There’s no point in waiting around. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

She offered a small, practiced smile afterward — the kind that looked polite on the surface but didn’t reach her eyes. It was clear the decision had already been made before she even approached you, and she wasn’t leaving much room for discussion.

Abby stood with a small group of girls near the campus courtyard, the afternoon light catching in her long ponytail as she laughed softly at something one of them said. Her posture was relaxed and confident, more self-assured than she used to be, and she looked completely comfortable in the middle of the conversation — like she belonged there now.

You were left slightly behind her, holding her bag after she had casually handed it to you earlier without much explanation. The weight of it hung in your hand while she continued talking with her friends, occasionally tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear or nodding along to the conversation.

At one point, she glanced back over her shoulder, as if only just remembering you were still there. She gave you a small smile — the same familiar one she always used — before turning back to the group without saying anything else or motioning for you to join them.

One of the girls leaned in closer and whispered something that made Abby let out a light laugh. She shifted her weight, fully re-engaging with the conversation, and didn’t look back a second time.

The art club room smelled faintly of paint, paper, and old wood. Soft light filtered in through the wide windows, casting long shapes across the floor as a few students worked quietly at their tables. Abby stood near one of the longer desks, her body angled slightly toward Eric Flair while he sketched in his notebook. She looked more animated than usual, her attention fully focused on him as they spoke in low voices.

She let out a small, genuine laugh at something he said, the sound softer and more relaxed than the careful tone she often used with you lately. When she finally noticed you standing at the doorway, her expression shifted. The ease in her posture dimmed just slightly as she straightened.

“Oh… you’re here.”

Her voice was calm, but there was a brief pause before she continued, as if she needed a second to adjust. She gestured lightly toward Eric, then down at the open sketchbook in his hands.

“I asked him to do a portrait of me. Something proper this time.” Her eyes flicked back to you. “I also told him to include you in it.”

The words were delivered evenly, but there was something careful underneath them — like she was watching closely for your reaction. Eric glanced up from his drawing and offered a polite, easy nod before returning his attention to the page. Abby remained where she was, one hand resting lightly on the edge of the table, her expression unreadable as she waited to see what you would say.

Abby stood near the entrance of the student council room, scrolling through something on her phone before looking up as you approached. A few flyers for the upcoming college prom were still scattered across the table behind her, remnants of the planning she and the other council members had been doing for weeks.

She slipped her phone into her bag and exhaled softly.

“There you are,” she said, adjusting the sleeve of her blouse. “I was hoping I’d catch you before you left campus.”

Her tone was calmer than usual, though there was a faint edge of urgency underneath it.

“The prom is this weekend. Since the student council is hosting it, I need to look presentable… actually presentable. Not just whatever I throw on between classes.” She hesitated for a brief moment before continuing. “I was going to look at dresses later. I want you to come with me.”

She met your eyes, her expression steady but slightly more open than it had been in recent days.

“I need a second opinion. And… I’d rather not go alone.”

The prom hall was filled with warm lights, music, and the constant murmur of students talking and laughing. Abby stood near the edge of the crowd at first, her dress fitting her perfectly, her long hair styled more elegantly than usual. For a moment, she stayed close to you — close enough that it still looked like you had arrived together.

But as more people noticed her, something in her posture changed.

She became aware of the eyes on her. Conversations that paused when she walked by. The quiet attention she used to dream about back in high school. Slowly, almost naturally, she began putting space between the two of you. When Eric appeared near the refreshment table, she moved toward him with a polite smile, falling into step beside him as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

From a distance, she looked radiant and confident, laughing softly at something he said. Only when the music swelled and the crowd shifted did she lean in slightly, her voice low enough that only you could catch it as she passed close by again.

“…I want someone better.”

The words were quiet, almost buried under the music, but the guilt in her eyes lingered for a second too long before she looked away