Chapter 4Before I Knew It Was You

When I finally checked Twitter the next morning, I saw that @TheSwineherd had updated.

@TheSwineherd:

[The night wind was quiet. The rain was quiet. A perfect time for a little cake.]

(Attached: Three heavily filtered, artsy photos of the squished convenience store cupcake.)

User1: [Bro, the storm last night was snapping tree branches in half. What do you mean 'quiet'? Also, isn't that a $2 gas station cupcake? Did your trust fund run dry?]

@TheSwineherd replying to User1: [How did you know my little Piglet gave it to me? She looked up at me with this round face and those bright eyes, and I couldn't even say no. Dammit. I've been manipulated by her tiny pig brain again!]

User2: [Nobody asked. Is she even your girlfriend? Calling her 'my Piglet' while posting a cringe photo dump of a stale cupcake is crazy work. Someone pour holy water on him and bring our hater-king back.]

User3: [Wait, look at the background of the photo. Is he driving her home? Hold up. Has he been promoted from hater to homewrecker?]

@TheSwineherd replying to User3: [Her boyfriend didn't show. Why shouldn't I drive her? And for the record, I am NOT the other man. Thanks.]

User4: [Midnight cake heist. Bro is having serious main-character syndrome right now. Let us all bow our heads and thank the thunderstorm...]

What on earth was he talking about?

I closed the app and opened my texts. There was a new message from an unsaved number. We had exchanged contacts in the car in case he needed directions to my dorm. His profile picture was a simple line drawing of a pig.

Harrison: [The cake was actually good. Where did you get it?]

I sent him the name of the store, adding that if he went after 9 PM, the bakery items were half off.

Harrison: [Do you work at that convenience store every day?]

Me: [No. Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, and all day on the weekends.]

Harrison: [I actually work out at a gym right near there. You know how it is. If you don't lift, you lose the eight-pack. I can just give you a ride back to campus when you're done.]

For all his icy demeanor, Harrison was surprisingly helpful.

I didn't want to be a burden, so I politely declined.

He didn't push it.

Harrison: [Fine. But if it rains or snows, I'm driving you. Don't say no. It's impossible to get an Uber out there.]

Because of that night, Harrison and I actually became friends.

I used to think he was just Carter’s snobby sidekick, someone with a terrible temper who looked down on everyone. But the more time we spent together, the more I realized he was incredibly patient. Once, my manager made me stay an hour late, and Harrison just sat in his car reading a book, completely unbothered.

Which made scrolling through his Twitter feed feel like I was experiencing psychological whiplash.

@TheSwineherd:

[What is wrong with Piglet's hands? Is C paralyzed? He can't hold his own towel? I want to punch this pathetic excuse for a man into the sun.]

[I think she actually has a fetish for mediocrity. Is she blind? Can her huge pig eyes not see who scored the most points on the court today? Who played the best? The world is being overrun by people with garbage taste and I am in despair. Open your eyes!]

My finger froze on the screen. I looked up. Across the campus quad, Harrison was leaning against a brick wall, his face utterly blank as he aggressively typed on his phone.

I refreshed the comments.

User1: [Translation: The girl went to a basketball game, gave her actual boyfriend water and wiped his sweat. OP waited around for a crumb of attention, got ignored, and is now having a public meltdown.]

User2: [Thank you, User1, for the context. I would’ve been so lost. They are literally a normal couple. Why is the side-piece so pressed?]

@TheSwineherd replying to User2: [Laugh all you want. If they want to be gross, do it at home. No one is obligated to tolerate their PDA. And let me repeat: I. AM. NOT. THE. OTHER. MAN.]

User3: [Tsk. You only have this energy online. In real life, does she even look in your direction? You're at the bottom of the food chain, bro.]

@TheSwineherd replying to User3: [I was the very first person she met when she arrived at this university. I carried her luggage. Three heavy-duty contractor trash bags. I hauled them from the train station drop-off all the way to her dorm on the fifth floor. If she doesn't look at me, why would she look at you? Don't make me laugh.]

User4: [Understood. Love at first sight. Boy catches feelings, but fumbles the bag and lets his best friend swoop in and take the prize.]

User5: [If I said I was in love with my best friend’s girlfriend, I'd sound like a villain. But if I say 'the girl I love became someone else's girlfriend,' it makes me sound like a tragic hero...]

First day of freshman year? The train station?

A memory clicked into place.

There had been a tall, lean guy wearing a baseball cap and a medical mask. All I could see were his dark, intense eyes. My belongings were packed in black contractor bags because I couldn't afford suitcases. They were incredibly heavy, and my dorm was in a building with no elevator. He didn't say a word, just hoisted them over his shoulder and made three agonizing trips up and down the stairs.

When I finally ran to the vending machine to buy him a bottle of water as a thank you, he was gone.

Later that night at the freshman mixer, I saw Carter wearing the exact same jacket. I had assumed it was him all along.

During halftime of the game, I found an excuse to pull Carter aside.

He looked surprised. "I told you this already. My frat assigned me to do freshman pickup at the station."

"No, I mean... did you help someone carry contractor bags? Like, three huge bags, up five flights of stairs?"

"God, no. I was stationed at the Amtrak terminal. Nobody brings trash bags to the Amtrak."

For a girl stepping into a massive, wealthy city for the first time, the excitement of college was entirely eclipsed by deep, paralyzing inferiority and fear.

I didn't even have a smartphone. I was so visibly lost and out of place. But that masked boy hadn't asked any invasive questions. He had just quietly taken my student ID, walked me to the bursar's office, and helped me load money onto my meal card.

Every time I had thought about breaking up with Carter over the last two years, I would remember that specific kindness, and I would stay.

It was my emotional get-out-of-jail-free card for him. And I had given it to the wrong person.