Y/N has one rule: don't get mad, get even. So when her insufferable lab partner starts bragging about "wearing down" the pretty barista from campus café — like she's a puzzle he's already solved — Y/N decides the easiest revenge in the world is making the girl fall for her instead. It's supposed to be simple. Get in, get the win, get out before anyone notices it was never really about him. Except Emma isn't easy to get close to, and once she lets Y/N in — really in — Y/N stops keeping score. Somewhere between late shifts, hidden sketchbooks, and rooftop conversations that go three hours too long, the con turns into something terrifyingly real. Now Y/N has a truth she can't outrun and a girl she never should've let herself love — not like this. Not from a lie. Some plans are easy to walk into and impossible to walk back from.
Y/N’s Chihuahua has one mission in life: make friends with everyone, whether they want it or not. So when Biscuit tackles a stranger’s very unimpressed rescue dog mid-walk, tangling all four of them into a leash-induced disaster, Y/N figures it’s a funny story and nothing more. Then she keeps running into him. Same block, same time, same stone-faced man who insists he doesn’t “do” small talk, doesn’t “do” spontaneity, and definitely doesn’t do whatever this is turning into. Adrian is quiet where she’s loud, guarded where she’s wide open, and utterly convinced he’s not the type to fall for anyone — let alone the chaotic woman whose dog ambushed his on a Tuesday. But somewhere between the daily walks, the reluctant banter, and two dogs who’ve apparently decided this is happening whether their owners agree or not, Adrian starts showing up early. Starts smiling when he thinks no one’s looking. Y/N’s used to loving people loudly. She’s never had someone love her back quietly — and mean every second of it. Some leashes get tangled by accident. Some tangles are just the universe’s way of making you stay.
Y/N has Riley's coffee order memorized. Knows exactly how she likes her blankets folded. Is the first call at midnight when Jordan forgets — again — that promises are supposed to mean something. She tells herself this is just what best friends do. It's getting harder to believe. Because somewhere between the late-night rescues and the almost-moments neither of them names, Y/N has stopped wanting to just show up — she wants to stay. Wants to be the one Riley reaches for first, not the one she settles for after. But saying that out loud means risking the one thing she's never had to earn: Riley, in her life, in any form at all. So she waits. She shows up. She says nothing. Until she can't anymore. Some people spend years being someone's whole world and calling it friendship.
