Y/n had been sitting at the corner booth for forty-seven minutes. Her phone sat face-up on the table, screen dark, no new messages.

Around her, the restaurant buzzed with Thursday night energy. A group of girls at the bar were taking shots, giggling. A table of frat guys were arguing over something, their voices too loud for the space. And in the back corner, a cluster of guys in matching warm-up jackets sat huddled around plates of loaded fries.

One of them kept glancing over.