Calculated Chaos

The rejection text from my crush landed just before spring break. When I asked him why, Liam’s reply was simple.

Liam: I like girls who are brave and smart.

I immediately typed back.

Me: Did you forget who pulled you out of the lake when your boat sank last week?

Two seconds of bouncing dots, then…

Liam: Okay, so you’re brave. But what about smart?

Another two-second pause from me.

Me: Guess why your boat was the only one that was leaking.

Liam: ?

1

The moment I sent it, my phone started ringing. Liam.

I declined the call.

He was relentless. By the time I was boarding my flight, he’d called a grand total of eighteen times.

I ignored every single one.

A final text buzzed through: [You’re in the next state over, right? Just you wait.] I powered my phone off, a satisfied smile spreading across my face as I settled into my airplane seat.

Finally, it was Liam’s turn to chase me for a change.

As for why his boat was taking on water?

How should I know? I don’t build boats.

2

Two hours later, we touched down. I switched my phone back on to a gratifying stream of messages from Liam.

Liam: Booked a flight.
Liam: At the airport.
Liam: Landing at seven.
Liam: Chloe. You just wait.

I let out a long breath. Ah, so this is what it feels like to have someone checking in with you. Utterly terrifying.

Over the next two hours, I executed a flawless sequence of operations: baggage claim, dinner, and booking a room at the airport hotel.

Once checked into my room, less than five hundred yards from the terminal, I finally felt secure. There was no way he’d think to look for me right under his nose. The old "hiding in plain sight" trick.

At seven-thirty, my phone rang. Liam.

I answered with all the unearned confidence I could muster. "To what do I owe the honor?"

His voice was cold. "What floor?"

I froze. "What?"

"The airport hotel. What floor are you on? What room number?"

I shot up in bed, genuinely stunned. "Holy shit, how did you know?"

A dry, humorless laugh came through the phone. "Your phone’s step count has been under a thousand since you landed, Chloe. Do the math."

3

Damn it. I have a thing for smart guys.

Of course, Liam might just be a little too smart.

Down in the hotel lobby, I shuffled guiltily toward him.

Liam’s brow furrowed the second he saw me. "Why are you wearing slippers down here? The floor is freezing."

I offered a sheepish grin. "I was just in a hurry to see you."

His handsome face darkened again as he tugged on the hood of my sweatshirt. "Alright, talk. The boat."

I threw my hands up in surrender. "I don't know anything!"

"Still playing dumb?"

"I really don't!" My voice was a pathetic whine. It was a total lie, and now I was regretting it.

The automatic doors slid open, letting in another guest and a blast of cold air. I hopped from foot to foot, muttering, "I just wanted to sound smart."

Liam looked at me, and a flicker of something—maybe exasperated amusement—crossed his face. He nudged his large suitcase in front of me. "Sit."

I blinked. "Huh?"

"You're practically tap-dancing to stay warm," he sighed. "Sit on the suitcase. Get your feet off the floor."

"Oh," I said, hoisting myself up. As I settled, he draped his jacket over my legs. I couldn't help myself. "Liam, you know, it was a lot of trouble for you to fly all the way out here… maybe instead…"

"Instead, you just give in and be mine."
"Instead, you let me throw you in the lake this time."

My mouth dropped open.

4

Seriously? How can a mouth that looks that good say something so cold?

We both seemed to freeze for a second.

Then, reality hit. I scrambled off the suitcase and bolted. "You jerk! Next time I’ll flip your whole damn boat over!"

"I knew it was you!" he yelled after me, his voice a mix of anger and frustration.

Honestly, it wasn’t me. But "flipping his boat" felt like the right level of pissed-off.

Back in my room, my phone buzzed again.

Liam: Come out.

I ignored it, turning my attention back to a TikTok of a cute guy with great abs.

Liam: I ordered food.

I swallowed hard, my eyes still glued to the screen.

Liam: ...Whatever. It's outside your door. My flight back is at nine. I'm leaving.

I stared at the message. He’s leaving? Already?

After a moment's hesitation, I slipped off the bed, planning to just crack the door and peek down the hall.

The second I opened it, my face collided with something warm and soft.

Oh. It was a chest. A very solid chest wrapped in a black sweater.

"Why do you lead with your head when you open a door?!" Liam’s face was flushed as he grabbed my shoulders to steady me.

I was about to come up with a witty retort, but my body had other plans.

A sudden warmth trickled from my nose.

I was having a nosebleed.

5

For the record, the nosebleed was because the hotel air was ridiculously dry. It had absolutely nothing to do with Liam’s 42-inch chest being squeezed into a tight, black turtleneck sweater. Nothing at all.

Liam pressed a cool washcloth to my forehead, his expression a complicated mix of concern and disbelief. "Chloe, I’m not kidding, I’ve never seen a girl get a nosebleed for… this reason."

With my eyes closed, I replied sagely, "That's just because their rooms weren't dry enough."

He let out another one of those exasperated laughs.

"Hey, what about your nine o'clock flight?" I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "It's 9:10. You're super late, Liam."

"I am super late," he agreed, holding up his phone. "Already rescheduled for tomorrow."

My eyes popped open. "You were actually going to leave?"

Liam gave me a look. "What else would I be doing?"

"I don't know, I thought you were bluffing to get me to open the door."

"Why would I need to lie about something like that?" he scoffed.

I blinked. "Then what is worth lying about?"

He paused, not answering. Instead, he took the washcloth, went to heat up the food he'd brought, and then held a forkful of pasta to my lips. "Eat."

Well, now. Room service and he feeds me? This nosebleed was totally worth it.

I chewed, swallowed, and opened my mouth for the next bite.

"You have hands for a reason," came Liam's deadpan voice, dashing my hopes. "Also, don't open your mouth that wide. You look like a baby bird."

6

Honestly, I sometimes worry Liam is so sharp-tongued he might accidentally poison himself just by licking his lips.

It’s a serious concern. If we ever kissed, would I get poisoned too?

After we finished eating, Liam started gathering the trash to take back to his room.

"What's in that little box?" I asked, pointing to a small, elegant container left on the table.

He glanced over. "Chocolates. They were an add-on to meet the delivery minimum."

I opened it up. The aroma was unique, rich and dark. There were six of them. I carefully set aside the prettiest one for Liam and, with a heavy heart, forced myself to eat the five ugly ones.

When Liam came back from dropping the trash outside, he saw the single, perfect chocolate sitting alone on the table. He just stood there for a second and said, "Wow. Just… wow."

See? I knew he was picky. He only likes the pretty things.

By that logic, he should be obsessed with me.

Liam froze. "What?"

I blinked, then repeated the thought in my head, louder this time: Liam is a huge idiot if he doesn't like me.

A vein pulsed in his temple. "Are you insulting me?"

My eyes widened in mock surprise. "Whoa, are you a mind reader now?"

He strode over, picked up the remaining chocolate, broke it open, and sniffed. He let out a long, slow breath. "Chloe, for the love of God, can you please pay attention? These are high-proof liqueur chocolates."

7

Liqueur what now? All I heard was "more snacks."

I propped my chin on my hands and watched him pace around, a goofy smile on my face. He was so handsome. I wanted to kiss him.

Liam’s face was looking a little flushed as he came over and helped me to my feet. "Okay, time for bed. No drunk antics."

"I'm not drunk," I insisted, pouting. "I'm perfectly lucid."

"Right, right, you're the queen of lucid," he said, humoring me. "Now get in bed."

I slapped his hand away and, with surprisingly accurate aim, planted both of my palms flat on his chest. I stared at his face, which was now turning a brilliant shade of red, and asked seriously, "Could a drunk person find their target this perfectly?"

The vein in his forehead was practically throbbing. "Chloe… you just wait until tomorrow. I am going to get you back for this."

He sighed, resigned, and guided me toward the bed. "Alright, you've had your feel. Can you go to sleep now?"

I shook my head. "Not enough."

His face was the color of a ripe tomato. His voice was a strained whisper. "What else could you possibly want?"

My eyes drifted down to his chest, and I gave him a shy smile. "Can I… take a sip?"

8

You know what they say: a guy who takes care of you is a guy worth keeping.

My hands were still resting on the solid warmth of his chest. He was just standing there, blushing, not saying no. My smile grew bolder. I started to lean in—

THUD.

I stared in shock as Liam, in a desperate attempt to evade me, stumbled backward and fell right off the side of the bed, landing in a heap on the floor.

Really? If you didn't want me to, you could have just said no. You didn't have to throw yourself to the ground.

"Chloe…"

He pushed himself up, his face an unreadable shade of crimson. He stared at me for a few long, silent seconds, then turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

Just… left. Didn't say another word. Made a right turn and was gone.

I lay on the bed, stunned, for a moment. I looked down at my palms, where the warm, soft feeling of his sweater still lingered.

After a minute, I reached over to the nightstand, pulled out a tissue, and silently stuffed it up my nose.

9

Liam didn't just leave my room. He left the city.

The next morning, I checked his location and saw a travel route that spanned a hundred miles overnight, his step count nearing twenty thousand. I was overcome with a deep sense of guilt.

I was sorry. But I'd totally do it again.

I woke up for real around nine, figuring he’d had enough time to cool off. I tentatively sent him a "Peeking Cat" sticker.

No reply.

Okay, still mad.

I opened a food delivery app and ordered his favorite coffee and some pastries to be sent to his dorm, adding a note for the little card: [Remember! You are my precious prince! If you are hurt or sad, everyone else must perish!]

Satisfied, I placed the order.

Half an hour later, the app notified me that the delivery was complete. Humming a little tune, I texted Liam again.

Me: Did you like the royal treats, your highness?

The reply came almost instantly. A single, cold syllable.

Liam: Hah.

I sat bolt upright. What? Still angry? That can’t be right.

Just then, a message popped up from the bakery. [Hi, so sorry, our system glitched and the note only printed the first and last words (crying emoji)].

A terrible feeling began to creep over me. My fingers trembled as I typed back.

Me: So… what did the recipient see?

It took them a full thirty seconds to reply. Five words that hit me like a ton of bricks.

[Remember! You must perish!]

10

Fine, fine, I'll perish! Is that what you want?!

Ignoring the bakery’s frantic apologies, I scrambled to text Liam. [That's not what I meant! Your Highness, let me explain!!]

The Prince was not in a listening mood. No reply.

After a few seconds of panic, I was a whirlwind of motion—packing my suitcase, booking a flight back to campus.

An apology requires sincerity. Chasing a guy requires effort. I liked Liam, so what was one more trip back to school?

Ping. A text from my roommate. [Chloe, you didn't actually go home, did you?? You have a Business Law final in three days, remember??]

My packing came to a screeching halt. I scrambled to open the class group chat, scrolling frantically until I found the exam schedule I’d completely overlooked.

Perfect. Now I had an even better reason to go back.

Dragging my suitcase downstairs, I hit the voice memo button, my tone serious and solemn, but with a smile I couldn't hide.

"Liam. Wait for me."

11

The flight was two hours. I took a cab straight to campus.

On the way, I rehearsed my defense, a full three-minute speech explaining the note and my behavior the other night.

I got to campus around two in the afternoon, which was prime study time for Liam. He’d almost certainly be at the library.

I sprinted to my dorm, dropped my bags, threw on a fresh, barely-there makeup look, and grabbed the new box of pastries I'd bought as a peace offering.

The second-floor study area was buzzing with people. I scanned the tables from the doorway but didn't see him. Just as I was wondering where he could be, I heard a voice from the end of the hall, near the water fountains.

"Dude, was that Isabelle just now?"

I froze, turning my head. It was Liam and his roommate. And in Liam’s hand was a beautifully packaged bag of pastries.

I glanced down at the identical bag in my own hand. My stomach dropped.

"Nice one, man," his roommate said, nudging him playfully. "Isabelle is the ice queen of our department. I can't believe you actually won her over."

I was too far away to see their expressions clearly, but their words carried down the quiet hall.

I waited for Liam to say something. To correct him.

But he didn't. He didn’t say a single word.

His roommate was still talking. "I mean, Chloe's hot and all, but… what's the term? A ditz? You're too smart for a beautiful ditz."
"A brainy goddess is way more your speed, man. You two are a perfect match."

I just stood there and listened.

From beginning to end, Liam never once objected.

It wasn't until they started walking toward the study room entrance that I finally saw his face.

He was smiling.

And as his eyes met mine, that smile dissolved into shock.

I held his gaze for a few seconds, my own face a placid mask. "Fancy seeing you here," I said, my voice perfectly calm.

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