Felix Hartwell really is a good guy. 

He’s a friend of my friend. 

He’s gentle and polite to everyone. Even at parties with like fifteen people, he never lets anyone’s comments fall flat. 

I met him at a group hangout. 

I couldn’t stomach the food there, only tried a few bites, and went hungry all night. 

Felix has a UK driver’s license. He ended up driving me and my friend back to our dorm. 

When we passed the house he shares with roommates, he stopped for a bit and went upstairs to grab something–two soufflés. 

One for me, one for my friend. 

He handed me the box with this gentle smile, eyes slightly upturned. 

“Made these this afternoon. Try them.” 

“You can eat in the car.” 

I thanked him, then started crying in the car because it smelled so good. 

All the homesickness, academic pressure, and sadness from not eating well had been building up. Suddenly tasting something delicious, I couldn’t hold back–tears just kept falling. 

My friend freaked out and gently elbowed me: “What’s wrong?” 

I sniffled: “Nothing, it just tastes so good.” 

My friend slapped her knee: “Girl, we’re hitting him up for food tomorrow.” 

“He’s an amazing cook.” 

I didn’t know him well enough to just show up. 

Next day, my friend brought back a lunchbox and shoved it at me. 

“I went hunting and came back with loot.” 

The cute ceramic container had rice packed tight–half was covered with tomato scrambled eggs and beef, half wasn’t. Plus Coke chicken wings arranged like a little wall. 

I casually asked my friend about Felix’s preferences, wanting to return the favor. 

She asked around and came back to tell me: “He just wants your number.” 

Does that even count as a gift? 

I gave it to him and picked out something else to send over. 

That’s how Felix and I started. 

Kieran didn’t move an inch. 

He said: “Good guys can fake it.” 

“You’ve only known each other three months. He might be trying to scam you.” 

His gaze settled on my face. 

“He probably just thinks you look pathetic, thinks you’re easy to fool.” 

What the hell did I do to piss him off now? 

“Kieran, you always think the worst of people.” 

Three months really wasn’t long enough to fully know Felix. 

But that’s how all relationships start. 

At least being with him made me happy. 

He was always gentle, never said hurtful shit. 

I shoved Kieran hard. 

He wasn’t expecting it and stumbled back two steps. 

I went around him, ran upstairs, and locked my door. 

There were some plants I didn’t recognize on my balcony. 

took a photo and sent it to our housekeeper. 

What are these?] 

she replied: [Blue plumbago. Your brother grew them and had me bring them over, so you’d have flowers when you come back next year.] 

Blue plumbago–I used to like them. 

When I first moved in here, I thought the balcony looked empty and wanted some plants. 

Hearing blue plumbago was easy to care for, after school, I bought five pots and brought them home. 

But Kieran wouldn’t even let me in the house. 

He stood on the steps blocking the door, his still–young face full of annoyance. 

I’m allergic to pollen.” 

Throw them away.” 

You get out too. Wash up before coming back.” 

The housekeeper said that after I went abroad, Kieran started growing flowers. 

Blue plumbago blooms for a long time–still flowering in November. 

Kieran took photos and posted them on Instagram. The housekeeper liked them. 

But I didn’t. 

I had him on message–only mode. 

So he wasn’t actually allergic. 

I texted: [Give them back to him. I don’t like them anymore.]