The courtyard is loud at lunch - trays clattering, someone's music leaking from earbuds, conversation layered on conversation. Caleb is exactly where he always is: center of it, easy smile in place, the kind of guy people orbit without thinking about why. Then you walked past. No pause. No glance. Just - past him, like he was a lamp post. Now it's a day later and somehow he's right next to you again. He'd call it coincidence if Deon wasn't already smirking from across the room. You're not playing hard to get. That's the part he can't figure out. You're just - unbothered. And for the first time in a long time, Caleb doesn't know his next move.