Chapter 3 Almost Said It

The weekend sun crept in through Mikey's blinds, casting pale gold lines across his desk, his sketchpad, and the still-closed page he hadn't dared open since last night.

He hadn't slept much.

Crizzle's voice replayed in his head like a skipped song-

"Mikey..."

-soft, careful, like it hadn't meant to slip out at all.

Maybe she was on a call. Maybe she was dreaming. Maybe it wasn't even about him.

But he was still here thinking about it, which said enough.

He finally got up, pulled on a hoodie, and stepped out just as Crizzle was locking her door.

She startled. "Jesus. Stalker energy."

"You say that like I didn't live two doors away," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

She smiled, but it looked tired. Her hair was up, but looser than usual. No paintbrushes tucked in this time. No loud colors. Just her in a plain oversized tee, denim shorts, and barefaced honesty.

"I was heading to that diner near the corner," she said. "Want breakfast?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

They walked in silence most of the way, the good kind. Easy. Familiar. Mikey matched her steps, not too fast, not too slow. Their shoulders bumped once or twice, but neither said anything about it.

The diner was half-full mostly students and sleepy faculty with their noses buried in newspapers. The air smelled like butter and old coffee. They slipped into a booth by the window, and Crizzle ordered pancakes while Mikey got eggs and toast.

She stirred sugar into her drink without looking up. "You're quiet today."

"You were quiet first."

She smirked. "Touché."

A beat passed. Then she asked, "Did I say anything weird last night?"

Mikey blinked. "Like what?"

She frowned at her spoon. "I don't know. I think I was talking in my sleep again."

Again?

He played it cool. "Can't say I heard anything... specific."

She looked up at him, eyebrows raised. "So you did hear something."

He hesitated. "You said my name."

Crizzle groaned, burying her face in her hands. "God. That's embarrassing."

"It's not," he said quickly. "It was kind of... nice."

She peeked at him through her fingers. "Nice how?"

"Like... you were thinking of me."

She pulled her hands away slowly. "Maybe I was."

Mikey's heart stuttered. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Their eyes met, and for a moment, it felt like something unspoken hovered in the space between them real, raw, and fragile as hell.

But then the waiter dropped their food at the table with a loud clatter, and just like that, the moment was gone.

Halfway through breakfast, Crizzle said, "My dad texted me this morning. He wants to visit next week."

Mikey blinked. "That's good, right?"

She poked at her pancakes. "He'll just criticize the apartment, ask about my grades, and pretend to be okay with me being here. Same old."

"He's still not on board?"

"He smiles through it, but no. He thinks I'm playing pretend. Like I'll wake up one day and regret choosing this life."

Mikey leaned his arms on the table. "But this is your dream."

"Exactly," she said, voice sharp. Then she sighed. "Sorry. Just... frustrated."

"Don't apologize," he said gently. "You're allowed to be upset."

She looked down, blinking hard. "Sometimes I wish I could fast-forward. Just skip to the part where I've already proven him wrong."

Mikey gave her a soft smile. "And miss all the messy middle parts where we eat questionable cafeteria food and sit on rooftops mislabeling clouds?"

That got a laugh out of her. "Okay, fair."

He stared at her for a moment. "You're gonna make it, Criz."

She looked up, visibly caught off guard by the nickname.

He hadn't meant to say it.

But he didn't take it back.

Instead, he added, "You're stubborn, you're talented, and you've got more fight in you than anyone I've ever met."

Her cheeks went pink, and for once, she didn't know what to say.

She just nodded and whispered, "Thanks."

They walked back slower than they came. The sun was higher now, heating the pavement, filling the air with the lazy warmth of a weekend with nowhere to be.

When they reached their dorm, Crizzle stopped in front of her door.

"Hey," she said.

"Yeah?"

Her eyes flicked to his mouth, then back to his eyes. "Can I ask you something?"

He nodded.

"If... If I ever felt something more like, more than this friendship would it ruin everything?"

Mikey's chest tightened. "Depends."

"On?"

"Whether I felt the same."

She held his gaze. "Do you?"

He opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

Too many things ran through his mind. Her laugh. Her trust. Her voice saying his name in the dark.

He wanted to say yes.

Every part of him was screaming to say yes.

But fear held him hostage.

Fear of messing it all up. Of losing her completely.

So instead, he said softly, "I think about it."

Crizzle's smile faltered, just a little. "Okay."

She opened her door, paused, then added, "See you later, Mystery Boy."

And she was gone.