He’s The Campus Sun But Only A Monster For Me Chapter 04

He’s The Campus Sun But Only A Monster For Me Chapter 04

The second half of senior year was chaos.

Everyone was buried in textbooks, even eating in the classroom if they could.

I didn’t change much.

I still watched flowers, drew, just shifted my studying to later.

My grades stayed steady in the top fifty-not top tier, but good enough.

When it came to college applications, I already had a plan.

Four quiet years of college, study something I loved,

then come back to this town, back to Grandma, do what I wanted.

So I applied to the best university in-state, majoring in botany.

Lucas climbed over to my room that evening, just back from basketball, hair still wet, wearing that red jersey I knew so well.

Sweat rolled down his collarbone.

He leaned against my desk, staring at my application papers, bangs falling over his eyes. I couldn’t read his

face.

“Which school are you applying to?” I asked.

“University of Arlington,” he answered, naming an Ivy League school in Boston.

I smiled and nodded. “It’s perfect for you.”

He didn’t reply.

About ten seconds of silence.

The evening wind blew in, rustling my sketch papers on the desk.

“Where are you applying?” he asked again, quieter.

I pushed the papers toward him.

He stared for a moment, then smiled-a different smile, a twist of his mouth I didn’t understand.

“Okay.”

He handed the papers back, walked to my bed, and lay down, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

Son accident fut un mensonge. Sa revanche sera un chef-d’œuvre.

I went back to sketching unfinished flower petals, pencil scratching softly.

A moment later, I heard him move.

I looked over. He was on his side, facing me, eyes half-closed.

“Beatrice,” he called.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want me to stay?”

My pencil paused, leaving a dark dot. I thought, then shaded it into a petal shadow.

“I want you to follow your heart,” I said, looking at him.

“Your life doesn’t revolve around me.”

He went quiet again.

He stayed late that night.

He climbed back over the balcony when the moon was high.

I lay in bed, listening to the faint sound from the next balcony, then a tiny, quiet breath.

I stared into the dark, listening to the night bugs, thinking:

Lucas, if you really stayed, I’d be so happy.

But I didn’t say it.

Like so many words I’d swallowed over six years, I locked it away and kept acting like nothing was wrong.

Lucas ended up applying to the same university as me.

When I got my acceptance letter and saw “Lucas Gray” on the same list, I froze for a long time.

Not Arlington.

The same school, same city, same campus as me.

He’d turned down a spot at an Ivy League school to go to a state university with me.

I told myself he changed his mind to stay close to home,

or because student government was easier here,

or scholarships, or better programs.

Son accident fut un mensonge. Sa revanche sera un chef-d’œuvre.

It made sense. He was good enough for anywhere.

I wasn’t someone who overthought things. Never had been.

Grandma said my biggest problem was I was too sensible.

Sensible people weren’t fun.

She said kids should act like kids.

Be reckless when you can be. Be whiny when you can be.

Or you’ll never get the chance when you grow up.

I said I didn’t need that.

Grandma sighed, touched my head, and said nothing more.

College was wider than high school.

The campus was huge, crowded.

No one knew you, no one cared what you wore or how you felt.

I was still barely noticeable.

But I still stopped to pet flowers, named every stray cat,

gave my umbrella to strangers who forgot theirs on rainy days.

Lucas was in a different major-finance.

I was in botany.

Our buildings were half a campus apart, different schedules.

We didn’t see each other every day like high school.

But I heard he was doing great.

No surprise. Lucas Gray was great everywhere.

He stood out immediately as a freshman.

Top of his class, spoke at freshman orientation.

A month later, he joined student government.

Three months later, he was class president.

Son accident fut un mensonge. Sa revanche sera un chef-d’œuvre.

His face was everywhere on campus Instagram and social media.

Comments were always screaming:

He’s so fine…

I’m obsessed, kiss me!!!

Lucas Gray I’m yours!!!

Sometimes I screenshot the comments and sent them to him.

He always replied with an exasperated emoji, then a voice note, whining, “Stop teasing me.

I just smiled.

I never told him I saved photos of him-high school speeches, basketball games, sleeping at my desk.

They were tucked safely in my phone, never posted, never shown to anyone.

Like a private sketchbook only I knew existed.