Lana woke up early and collected her vacation assignments from her drawers, which needed to be submitted today. She took her yellow hoodie and skinny jeans from the hanger. Tying her hair into a bun, she heard the doorbell ring.
"Lana, darling! Can you see who it is? I'm in the kitchen," her busy mother called out from downstairs.
Lana, still in her pajamas, ran down the stairs and opened the door to see the very person she had been wishing to see. The person seemed as perplexed as she was.
"Hello again!" Peter chuckled, breaking the silence.
She adjusted her hair and clothes, smiling awkwardly.
"Guess we're neighbors. I just moved into my aunt's house—she lives two doors down from here."
"So you're Clarice's nephew? I never thought she had family..." Lana said without thinking, immediately realizing how rude it sounded. He stared at her, amused.
Clarice was a lonely widow who lived in a cozy bungalow nearby. No one ever visited her, at least as far as Lana knew. She didn't mingle with anyone and always gave Lana a twisted smile whenever they crossed paths. Mrs. Clarice's gray hair and her red sweater, which she wore every morning, gave Lana an uneasy feeling, and she always hurried past her house.
"I'm here to deliver a bouquet for Gloria Hunter. It's from that boy standing over there." Peter gestured toward a boy in a red T-shirt hiding behind a maple tree, his eyes peeking out as he clutched a large bouquet of roses.
"I think he's in love with your mom," Peter joked, though he quickly stopped laughing when she didn't join in. "Sorry!" he added.
"That must be one of my mom's students. I don't know what's wrong with them," she replied.
Without a word, Peter handed her the flowers. "I was kidding. That's just a random kid playing hide-and-seek. These are for you." He smiled. "I saw you late last night through your window while I was walking..."
She felt slightly embarrassed, realizing she hadn't closed her curtains, but was thankful her laptop had been facing away from the window.
Her mother appeared at the door, looking slightly startled by the presence of a stranger.
"A new neighbor... Peter. He just came to greet us," Lana explained.
"That's very nice of you!" Gloria said with a warm smile. She, like Lana, was a brunette, but her vibrant and cheerful demeanor gave her a natural elegance—she could have been a model without trying. She took the flowers from Lana and examined them.
"See you at college, then," Peter said before stepping outside and waving goodbye.
"Sweet boy. When did you start dating such a gentleman?" her mother asked, holding the bouquet close and taking in its scent.
"What? He's not my boyfriend!" Lana protested.
"I wouldn't mind if he were. Everyone your age is dating. You haven't even been on a single date, and I worry about you sometimes," Gloria said with a kind smile.
"God!" Lana groaned, slamming the door and heading upstairs. She resumed combing her hair, her heart pounding—not from her mother's comment, but from frustration.
Her mother was the sweetest, and she had raised Lana on her own. But her openness, her lack of strictness, and their best-friend-like relationship could sometimes be overwhelming. Lana wasn't angry at her mother; she was angry that Gloria had assumed Peter was her boyfriend.
Why would Peter even look at her? He'd probably end up with some popular girl. But then, why the flowers? Was it just a kind gesture? Or was he a flirt, maybe even a playboy?
---
"There you are!" Tyla slammed her books onto Lana's desk and sat beside her on the bench. Lana was immersed in her history book. Tyla was wearing a pretty red dress today, and her blond hair swayed gracefully with the air.
"Every girl is talking about him. The new student in Literature. He has this soft aura and is so charming..."
"What about Dean?"
"Dean who?" Lana couldn't believe her ears. She raised her eyebrows and scowled.
"It was nothing serious. You know me. But I really like the new guy. Maybe... finally, I'm going to be in a serious romance." She fluttered her eyelashes shyly at Lana, hiding her face in her hands with a giggle.
"Tell me about him," Lana asked, curious now, since Tyla seemed serious for the first time.
"He's in the Literature block. First year, but apparently, he's two years older than us. Dropped a course that included mathematics and came here. Good marks. Good family. Good looks. Blue eyes. Straight black hair... an Aquarius," Tyla continued describing.
Lana stopped smiling because each detail painted an image of someone she had met yesterday—and someone she very much adored.
"What's his name?" Lana asked, fear creeping into her voice as she prayed it wasn't him.
"Peter," Tyla blushed. "Peter Vance."
Lana's excitement drained away, replaced by sadness. Insecurities crept over her like ivy. Who was she compared to Tyla—the popular, pretty Tyla whom everyone adored?
"I found his Insta. Followed. Followed back! Wow! He's active on Insta."
Yeah, now they follow each other and will be sleeping together tonight, Lana thought bitterly.
"What happened to you, Lana? You look like a goddess of sadness..." Tyla asked, sounding concerned.
"It's nothing. He seems like the kind of guy who's nice... who's into serious relationships, and you date like ten boys in a month. It just... I..." Lana trailed off, closing her history book. She was afraid to meet Tyla's gaze.
"So? Why does that affect you, huh?" Tyla's tone shifted, and Lana felt uneasy.
"It's nothing. I'm sorry, Ty," Lana said, her voice apologetic but shaky.
"You always judge me. I'm not perfect like you—scoring high and playing Virgin Mary," Tyla snapped, her tone bitter. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, but her own tears were brimming.
"I like him. And I told you—I'm looking for something serious now. I've never found anyone I get along with. I never knew your image of me was... a slut."
"I never said that, Ty," Lana said apologetically.
Tyla stood abruptly and walked out of the classroom, her heels making loud clicks that drew everyone's attention. Their classmates looked at the once-inseparable pair with confusion.
Tyla didn't attend any more classes that day, and Lana felt lonelier than ever. Walking home through the college grounds, she saw Peter and Tyla standing in a corner, having a cheerful conversation. Her heart felt like it was breaking.
When Lana got home, she went straight to her table and opened her diary, but she couldn't write. Instead, tears began falling. She lay on the desk, sobbing.
"Oi!"
She looked up and saw a head through the window. It was Peter.
"What?" she said nervously, rubbing her eyes.
"Give me a hand."
She hesitated but pulled him up into her room. It was cozy and tidy, with bookshelves, pale cream walls, and a bed with a teddy bear-patterned cover.
"Your room—"
"Shhh!" She mouthed "Mom" and gestured for him to leave.
"I just—" he started, but she cut him off, ushering him back to the window. He climbed down the pipe and jumped onto the grass below, walking away.
Gloria, cooking in the kitchen, noticed him through the window.
"I don't think it's inappropriate for your boyfriend to sneak into your room through the window. We have a front door, for God's sake," Gloria said, arms crossed.
"He's not my boyfriend, Mama."
"Then what? You're not doing that 'benefits' thing, are you?"
"What?!" Lana's eyes widened. "I'm single. He's..." She hesitated. "He's dating Tyla. I think he just wanted advice about a gift. That's why he came." She lied.
"Tyla?" Gloria frowned. "How does she get all the good ones?"
Her mother's question echoed in Lana's mind, piercing her like a knife. How does Tyla get all the good ones?