17. Freddie

FREDDIE

THEN – SOPHOMORE YEAR – MAY

I grunt, pushing through my last set of bench presses. The weight feels heavier than usual, like I’m lifting my fuck-ups along with the bar. Finals are almost over—just one more exam in two days—and I still haven’t fixed things with Alex. Every time I see her around campus, rushing between the library and her last exams, she either doesn’t see me or pretends not to. My mind’s not here, not really. It’s stuck on her eyes blazing with hurt and anger.

Troy spots me as I rack the bar, his brow furrowed. “Dude, you’re off your game today. What gives?”

I sit up, wiping my face with a towel. “It’s nothing,” I mutter, but I’m not fooling anyone, least of all myself.

Troy’s not buying it either. He plops down next to me on the bench, his usually carefree expression replaced with concern. “Come on, man. Spill.”

I sigh, running a hand through my sweat-damp hair. “I fucked up, Troy. With Alex.”

“Ah,” Troy nods, understanding dawning on his face. “Women problems, of course. Was it that processing plant protest?”

“Yeah? How’d you know?—”

“Tara,” we both say in unison.

Of course, Troy’s sister blabbed about it. Fucking great.

“Yeah,” I admit. “I… I said some shit. She said some shit. It got ugly.”

Troy’s quiet for a moment, then asks, “Is this a girl you want to hurt?”

The question stops me dead in my tracks. “What? No, of course not,” I protest, the very idea making me feel like shit.

He shrugs, his voice gentler than usual. “Then make it right, bro. There’s always a way to make it right. Unless you killed a puppy or something. There’s no coming back from that.”

As we head to the locker room, Troy’s words stick with me like gum on a shoe. Make it right. But how?

The processing plant project. Alex’s protest. If I could find a middle ground, a solution that addresses her environmental concerns while still allowing the development...

I should be studying for tomorrow’s Environmental Ethics final, but this feels more important. Besides, maybe this counts as practical application of the course material.

I shower and change quickly, my mind spinning with half-formed thoughts and unresolved questions. By the time I return to my room, I’m on a mission. My laptop springs to life under my fingertips, the screen’s cold light cutting through the dim glow of my desk lamp. I dive headfirst into environmental impact reports and local development codes, attacking the information like I’m cramming for the world’s most boring exam.

Hours slip by in a blur of clicking keys and endless scrolling. The soft hum of the laptop fills the room as I push forward, eyes burning from the strain. When I finally lean back, stretching my stiff neck and rubbing my tired eyes, something solid begins to take shape in front of me. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start—maybe even a compromise that could work.

The gist of it?

Relocate the facility slightly east, preserving the wetland buffer zone that Alex has been hammering on about. Implement green building practices, incorporate sustainable design elements. Create wildlife corridors around the development, and restore the surrounding habitat to offset the environmental damage. Build raised walkways over sensitive areas instead of paving them over. And to show real commitment to the community, develop a nature education center as part of the project—turning it into a model for sustainable industrial development.

It’s going to cost more, of course. But with tax incentives for green building and the public relations boost, it could work. Maybe, just maybe, it’ll show Alex I’m not the corporate sellout she thinks I am.

Before I can back out, I attach the document to an email and hit send. Then I sit there, alternating between pacing and refreshing my inbox like a teenager waiting for a text back.

When the reply finally comes, it’s not what I expect. Dr. Reeves wants to see me in person. Tomorrow. Fuck.

I barely sleep that night, my mind spinning with a thousand what-ifs. What if he hates the idea? What if I overstepped? What if I just tanked my entire career?

The next morning, I find myself standing outside Dr. Reeves' office, my palms clammy as I knock on the door.

“Come in, Freddie,” his voice calls out, calm and warm.

I step inside, forcing myself to stand tall, projecting a confidence I don’t feel. Dr. Reeves is behind his desk, my proposal open on his computer screen, the light from the monitor casting a cool glow across his face.

“Sit down,” he says, gesturing to the chair across from him. As I settle into the seat, I catch a flicker in his eyes. Is that... approval?

“I have to say, Freddie,” he begins, leaning back in his chair with a slight smile, “I’m impressed by what you sent me. But I have to ask—what made you want to figure this out? This proposal took a lot of time, and I know classes are busy right now.”

“Well, sir. There’s this girl I’m friends with. She protested the project, and…” I hesitate, unsure how to explain without sounding like I’m full of shit.

“Ahh.” Dr. Reeves sips his coffee, the steam swirling up in a thin thread as he smiles, something almost mischievous in his eyes. “Say no more, young man. I understand exactly. Sometimes the women in our lives get too worked up over things like frogs’ homes, and sometimes the only way to win them over is with a frog highway. I get it. And I’m impressed. The plan is well thought out and won’t cost a ton.”

I’m left speechless. He’s wrong, isn’t he? Yes, I want to please Alex, but this plan isn’t just some half-assed attempt. I give a damn about the environment. It’s real, actionable change, without screwing the whole development.

For some reason, I don’t correct him. I just nod, trying to keep my face neutral. “Thanks, sir.”

Dr. Reeves leans forward, his fingers steepled on the desk. “You know, that protest your friend organized… it caused quite a stir. More than she probably realizes.”

“What do you mean?”

He chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. “Let’s just say the project was on thin ice. The board was this close to pulling the plug.” He holds his thumb and forefinger a hair’s breadth apart. “But this,” he taps my proposal on the screen, “this might just save it.”

I should be over the fucking moon. This is what I wanted, right? A solution that works for everyone. But something in Dr. Reeves’ tone makes my skin crawl.

“The thing is, Freddie,” he continues, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “You and I, we understand how the world really works. It’s not about recycling your tins or saving every damn bug. It’s about balance. Progress. Profit.”

I shift in my seat. “I just wanted to find a compromise,” I say, choosing my words carefully.

Dr. Reeves waves a hand dismissively. “Of course, of course. And you did. That’s what matters. The shareholders will love this, and the tree-huggers get to feel like they’ve won something. Everyone’s happy.”

He looks at me, a glint in his eye that I can’t quite place. “You’ve got a bright future, Freddie. I look forward to teaching you again next year. Come see me when you’re looking at internship prospects.”

The implication is clear, and I should be thrilled. But all I can think about is Alex—her fiery passion, her unwavering belief in doing what’s right. And here I am, being praised for… what? Playing both sides?

But Dr. Reeves is a smart motherfucker. He’s respected, well-connected. I remember the email from last week, the one from the school congratulating him on yet another research grant.

“Thank you, sir,” I manage, standing up. “I should get going. I have a class…”

Dr. Reeves nods without looking up, already turning back to his computer, as if I’ve ceased to exist. “Of course. I’ll be in touch about implementing your proposal.”

I leave his office feeling like I need to take ten showers. I should be celebrating. I found a solution. I made it right.

So why do I feel like I’ve just made a deal with the devil?

Before I know it, I’m standing outside Alex’s dorm room, staring at the door like an idiot. My hand hovers over the doorframe, breath tight in my chest.

I take a deep breath and knock. There’s a pause, followed by the sound of quick footsteps. The door swings open, and there she is.

She’s wearing tailored trousers and a fitted turtleneck that hugs her frame. Her hair’s a mess, like she’s been running her fingers through it all day, a few strands falling into her eyes. She looks fucking beautiful, and it pisses me off how much I notice.

Alex’s eyes widen in surprise, then narrow. The hurt and anger from our last encounter are still there, simmering just beneath the surface. “What are you doing here, Freddie?”

“I need to talk to you,” I say, my voice steadier than my racing heart. “I found a solution. For the development project.”

She scoffs, crossing her arms like she’s building a wall between us. “Let me guess, they’re going to plant a tree for every acre they destroy? How generous.”

“No, Alex, listen,” I press on, desperate to make her understand. “I came up with a compromise. One that actually addresses your environmental concerns. I did some research into the area, and you were right—there is a lot of damage that could be done if they don’t go about it carefully. I wrote out a full proposal. Dr. Reeves liked it. They’re probably going to implement it.”

Alex’s eyes widen, a mix of surprise and suspicion flashing across her face. “They what? How?”

I open my mouth to explain, but before I can get a word out, a voice that sounds like Siri pipes up from inside the room.

“Oh look, it’s Mr. Hot Friend. Come to make my roommate more miserable?”

Alex’s cheeks flush as she whirls around. “Piper! Not now!”

I peek past Alex to see her roommate, Piper, hunched over a laptop like she’s trying to merge with it. Her fingers are flying across the keyboard without missing a beat. She doesn’t even look up as she speaks.

“Don’t mind me,” Piper deadpans. “I’m just a sentient AI, observing human mating rituals. Fascinating stuff. Please, continue your awkward dance.”

Alex groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I swear to God, Piper, if you don’t?—”

“Relax, Alex,” Piper sighs, finally glancing up from her screen. Her eyes, magnified by thick-rimmed glasses, fix on me with an intensity that makes me want to check if my fly is open. “I’ll vacate the premises. Wouldn’t want my presence to interfere with…whatever this is.”

She grabs her laptop and shuffles past us, pausing to mutter, “For the record, she’s been listening to sad music on repeat for days. Fix it, hot friend, before I have to code a mute button for all her devices.”

With that, she’s gone, leaving Alex and me alone in the awkward silence of the hallway. I feel like I’ve just survived an encounter with the world’s most sarcastic AI.

Alex clears her throat, her face still flushed. “So, you were saying?”

I take a deep breath. After everything, she deserves the whole truth. “Look, after the protest, I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said—the wetlands, the wildlife corridors. You were right about a lot of things. So I did some research, spent a few nights working on an alternative plan.”

Her eyes soften slightly. “What kind of alternative plan?”

“One that could work for everyone.” I pull out my laptop, eager to show her. “See, if we shift the development east, we can preserve most of the wetland buffer. Add elevated walkways instead of paving. Implement green building practices. I even included a nature education center?—”

I stop, seeing her expression change. “What?”

“When did you show this to Reeves?”

“Yesterday. Alex, I really think this could?—”

“And what did he say?” There’s an edge to her voice now.

I swallow hard. If I’m doing this, I’m doing it right. No more half-truths. “He... he liked it. Said it came at the perfect time, actually. The protest had them worried about—” I stop, realizing too late what I’m admitting.

Alex goes very still. “Worried about what?”

“They were considering scrapping the project,” I admit. “Your protest worked, Alex. Maybe too well. But this way, we could still protect the wetlands and?—”

“So let me get this straight,” she cuts me off, her voice dangerously quiet. “The protest worked. They were going to cancel it. And you just... handed them a solution?”

“Alex, please,” I plead, reaching out to her. “I was trying to find a compromise that would protect what matters to you?—”

“What matters to me?” Her laugh is hollow. “What matters to me is that we almost won. You wanted them to go ahead with the project?”

“No, fuck , that’s not—” I start, but Alex cuts me off.

“So now it’s going ahead because of you?” Her voice rises with each word, and I swear I can see steam coming out of her ears. “After everything I fought for, you just... what? Decided to play the hero? Tried to score some points with Reeves?”

“Alex, you’re not listening to me!” I plead, desperation making my voice crack. She’s slipping away, and I can’t find the right words to make her understand. I risked everything for her—my standing with Dr. Reeves, my grades, maybe even my future in the program. One wrong word to Reeves and he could have tanked my entire academic career. But I didn’t care. I did it anyway, because seeing her passionate about something, seeing her fight for what she believes in... it made me want to be better. Made me want to find real solutions.

And that terrifies me. Fucking terrifies me.

When did I become the guy who’d risk everything just to see one girl smile? When did Alex’s opinion start mattering more than my carefully planned future? When did I start measuring every decision by whether it would make her proud or disappointed?

The hurt in her eyes is like a kick to the balls. “For a moment there, I actually thought you understood, Freddie. I thought you cared. But I guess you care more about impressing Dr. Reeves, huh?”

I want to laugh at the irony. If she only knew how little I cared about impressing Reeves compared to impressing her. How I agonized over this proposal, trying to find a solution that would make her proud. But it backfired. Like everything else between us.

“That’s not—” I start, but she’s building up steam, her words coming faster and sharper.

“You know what? Save it. I’m done with your excuses, done with?—”

Something in me snaps. She’s not listening, I’m panicking, and suddenly I’m doing the one thing we promised never to do again. Because I’d rather have her hate me than this—than this constant awareness of her, than this need to make her proud, than this terrifying realization that I’d risk everything just to see her smile. Better to burn it all down now than admit how much power she has over me.

Before I can stop myself—before I can think—I grab her waist and kiss her. Maybe it’s the frustration of her not listening, or the way she’s looking at me like I’m the enemy. For one heart-stopping moment, she responds, her hands coming up to my chest. Then she shoves me back, hard.

“What are you doing?” Her voice shakes. “We agreed—no more kissing. We’re just friends, Freddie. That’s what we decided.”

“What?” I force a laugh, even as shame and hurt war in my chest. “You don’t want to kiss me now? You were throwing yourself at me before.”

Her face goes white. “That’s not fair. You can’t just kiss me to shut me up when I’m angry with you.”

Something in me snaps. I’d rather have her hate me than this—than whatever this thing is between us that I can’t seem to control. Than me risking everything for someone who won’t even listen to me. I risked everything with this proposal, and for what? For her to look at me like I’m the enemy?

“We fucked, Alex. Grow up and get used to it. It didn’t mean anything—just a good time between friends.” The words come out cruel, deliberate. I want to hurt her like she’s hurting me.

The moment the words leave my mouth, I want to snatch them back. Her face crumples for just a second before hardening into something cold and distant, and I realize I’ve done exactly what I set out to do. I’ve made her hate me. But that has to be better than this—than feeling like my whole world revolves around her smile, than knowing I’d risk everything just to help her, than admitting that somewhere along the way, she became the most important thing in my life. Than admitting I’m falling for her so hard I can barely breathe.

“Freddie,” she whispers, and somehow that’s worse than if she’d screamed it. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears, and I see the exact moment something breaks between us. Something I’ll never be able to fix.

Fuck me. I did not think this through.

“Alex, I?—”

“Don’t.” Her voice cracks, and there’s something final in it that makes my chest cave in. “Just... get out.”

She slams the door in my face so hard the walls shake. I stand there like the world’s biggest asshole. The taste of her chapstick still lingers on my lips. I want to wipe it off, but my arm doesn’t seem to be working.

The worst part? I know exactly why she’s so pissed. We promised not to go there again, we swore to keep it just friends. Made a whole fucking pact about it after that night—no more blurring the lines, no more pretending we could handle the in-between.

And I just took that promise and set it on fire.

I need a drink. Or ten. Maybe I’ll call Troy and Ethan, see if they’re up for getting wasted and making bad decisions. Because clearly, that’s what I’m good at. Anything to drown out the voice in my head that says I just destroyed the best thing in my life because I was too much of a coward to admit how much she means to me.