He Spoke French to Her So I Couldn’t Understand Chapter 09

He Spoke French to Her So I Couldn’t Understand Chapter 09

Once the semester started, I deleted every last trace of Owen Shaw.

Fall came slow to UNC. The sycamore leaves were still green, and student clubs had set up their tables along the main drag,

That was where I met Graham Hayes. He was an upperclassman in my program. When he helped me move my things into the dorm, the only thing he asked was, “Heavier stuff on which side?”

No presumptions. No performative chivalry.

I said the right side. He put the boxes on the right side.

We crossed paths after that-classes, club meetings, lectures. He noticed I didn’t eat scallions and started asking before we ordered food. He noticed I didn’t like people touching my stuff and never

made decisions for me.

Those small, quiet forms of respect slowly reminded me that normal relationships didn’t require

endurance.

The first time Owen showed up on campus was October

I’d just finished a late class. The wind was strong at the gate. He stood under a streetlight in a dark jacket, holding a cup of coffee. The second he saw me walking beside Graham, his face twisted.

“Who’s that?”

The possessiveness in his voice was as fresh as if we were still together.

Graham glanced at me. I said, “A classmate.”

Owen stared at him. “I wasn’t asking you.”

Graham didn’t react. He just handed me the notes for our presentation. “Don’t forget these for

tomorrow.”

“Thanks.”

Owen’s eyes dropped to the papers and he let out a sharp laugh. “So this is your type now, Sienna?”

I met his gaze. “That’s none of your business.”

The smirk slid off his face. “We’ve barely been apart. You’re already lining up the next one?”

A few passing students glanced over. The familiar sting of public humiliation crept up, but this time, I didn’t stand there and take it.

“Owen, you let the breakup happen. My new life is my own choice.”

His fingers tightened around the cup until the plastic warped. “I never agreed to it.”

“At Universal, you said you were waiting for the acceptance letters.”

His lips went white. “I already explained.”

“I don’t accept.”

A few words, and the light in his eyes went out completely.

Graham asked quietly, “Do you want me to walk you back to the dorm?”

Owen’s head snapped toward him “What are you supposed to be?”

Graham’s voice stayed even “Het classmate

I picked it up from there. “Someone I’m willing to spend time with.”

Owen looked like I’d nailed him to the pavement. The coffee slipped from his hand and hit the

ground, splashing over his shoes. He glanced down at the mess, then crouched and started picking up the cup.

The motion was so awkward and wrecked, completely unrecognizable from the proud guy who used

to own a crowd.

I didn’t stop. A few steps later, his voice scraped after me. “Sienna, my stomach hurts.”

In the old days, if his stomach hurt, I would’ve sprinted to get medicine and stood over him until he

drank something warm.

One night during junior-year study hall, he’d been sweating from the pain, and I’d carried both our bags to the nurse’s office, crying so hard I could barely see.

He’d promised then, “Stop crying. I’ll never drink coffee on an empty stomach again.” He still did. Because he knew I’d always take care of him.

The wind caught the ends of my hair. I didn’t look back.

Graham asked, “Should I call the campus medic?”