The silence stretched between them like a chasm, Alice's words hanging in the air like smoke after a gunshot. Gerald's heart hammered against his ribs as he searched her face for any hint of what might come next. The fluorescent lights of the Houston University courtyard cast harsh shadows across her features, making her expression even more unreadable.
"I need time to think about this," Alice had said, her voice barely above a whisper. The words echoed in Gerald's mind now as he watched her fidget with the diamond bracelet on her wrist—a nervous habit he'd noticed during their study sessions together.
A week. She'd asked for a week to give him a proper answer. Seven days that would either change everything or leave him exactly where he'd always been—on the outside looking in at a world he could never truly belong to.
Alice's perfectly manicured fingers traced the edge of her Hermès bag, the leather probably worth more than Gerald's entire wardrobe. She looked up at him through her lashes, those eyes that had captivated half the male population of Houston University now filled with something he couldn't quite identify. Uncertainty? Fear? Or perhaps pity?
"Gerald, I..." she started, then stopped herself. The unfinished sentence hung between them like a bridge half-built, leading nowhere.
Around them, other students moved through the courtyard in their evening routines. Designer sneakers clicked against polished concrete as groups of wealthy kids headed back to their dormitories, their conversations a symphony of privilege—complaints about delayed luxury car deliveries, plans for weekend trips to their parents' vacation homes, discussions of trust fund distributions.
"I understand," Gerald managed, though his throat felt like sandpaper. "Take all the time you need."
But even as he said it, he wondered if she could see through the careful composure he'd constructed. Could she tell how his cheap sneakers felt like concrete blocks on his feet, or how his second-hand jacket suddenly seemed to broadcast his poverty to everyone within a fifty-yard radius?
Alice nodded, relief flickering across her features. "Thank you. I'll give you an answer next week, I promise. A real answer."
They parted ways at the dormitory complex, the imposing brick buildings rising like fortresses against the Mayfair City skyline. Gerald watched Alice disappear into the women's residential hall, her silhouette swallowed by shadows and the warm glow of expensive lighting fixtures. Then he turned toward his own building, dragging his feet like a condemned man walking to the gallows.
The men's dormitory buzzed with its usual evening energy. Expensive cologne mixed with the aroma of takeout from high-end restaurants, creating an atmosphere thick with privilege and expectation. Gerald climbed the stairs to his floor, each step feeling heavier than the last.
He found Clinton sprawled across their shared common area's worn couch, textbooks scattered around him like debris from an academic explosion. His best friend looked up as Gerald entered, immediately reading the exhaustion etched across his features.
"Well?" Clinton asked, closing his economics textbook. "How did it go with the beauty goddess?"
Rick emerged from his room at the sound of conversation, his perpetual expression of mild authority softened by genuine curiosity. As head of their dormitory, he'd appointed himself unofficial guardian of their small group of scholarship students and working-class kids who'd somehow found their way into Houston University's rarified atmosphere.
"She didn't say no," Gerald said, collapsing into the threadbare armchair that served as his usual spot. "But she didn't say yes either."
"Ah," Rick nodded knowingly, settling onto the couch's armrest. "The classic 'I need time to think' response. Classic rich girl move."
"Don't be so cynical," Clinton chided, though his tone lacked conviction. "Maybe she's just being thoughtful."
Gerald ran his hands through his dark, curly hair—a nervous habit that had intensified since he'd started harboring feelings for Alice. "She said she'd give me a real answer in a week."
"A week," Rick repeated, whistling low. "That's either really good or really bad. No in-between with girls like that."
"What do you mean?" Gerald asked, though he suspected he already knew.
Rick's expression grew serious, the kind of gravity that came from watching too many promising young men get their hearts broken by the daughters of Mayfair City's elite. "Girls like Alice Chen don't need a week to decide if they like someone. They know immediately. A week means she's weighing the social implications, thinking about what her friends will say, what her family will think."
The words hit Gerald like a physical blow, confirming every fear that had been gnawing at him since he'd first realized his feelings for Alice. He thought about her world—the charity galas, the exclusive country clubs, the social circles where his presence would be tolerated at best, resented at worst.
"Or," Clinton interjected, shooting Rick a warning look, "she's genuinely trying to sort out her feelings. Not everything has to be about class warfare, you know."
"Doesn't it though?" Rick asked quietly. "When has it ever not been about that in this place?"
---
Meanwhile, across the courtyard in the women's residential hall, Alice pushed through the glass doors of the building's opulent lobby. Crystal chandeliers cast prismatic light across marble floors, while oil paintings of the university's founding families watched from gilded frames. The contrast between this building and what she imagined Gerald's dormitory looked like made her stomach twist with an emotion she couldn't quite name.
She found Naomi in their shared suite's living area, perched on the velvet sofa with her legs tucked beneath her. Despite being the heiress to one of the city's largest conglomerates, Naomi had always possessed an understated elegance that never felt ostentatious. Tonight, she wore simple designer jeans and a cashmere sweater that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent, but she wore them like comfortable clothes rather than status symbols.
"How did it go?" Naomi asked without preamble, closing her laptop where she'd been reviewing reports from her family's various business ventures. At nineteen, she already sat on three different boards of directors.
Alice sank into the chair across from her best friend, finally allowing her carefully maintained composure to crack. "I told him I needed a week to think about it."
Naomi's eyebrows rose slightly. "A week? Alice, you've been talking about Gerald for months. What's there to think about?"
"Everything," Alice said, the word coming out sharper than she'd intended. "Absolutely everything."
She began to pace, her Louboutin heels clicking against the hardwood floors. The sound echoed off the suite's high ceilings, emphasizing the spaciousness that she'd always taken for granted until she'd started spending time in Gerald's world.
"My parents expect me to marry within our social circle," Alice continued, her voice taking on the rehearsed quality of someone who'd had this conversation with herself a hundred times. "The Chens have been part of Mayfair City's elite for three generations. There are expectations, responsibilities..."
"Bullshit," Naomi said calmly, though her eyes flashed with something dangerous. "Your parents want you to be happy. They've said so dozens of times."
"They want me to be happy within acceptable parameters," Alice corrected. "There's a difference."
Naomi uncurled herself from the sofa, moving to stand by the window that overlooked the university's manicured grounds. In the distance, the lights of Mayfair City twinkled like earthbound stars, each one representing fortunes built and dynasties established.
"Do you love him?" Naomi asked quietly.
The question hung in the air like smoke from expensive cigarettes, filling the space between them with uncomfortable truth. Alice stopped pacing, her hands falling to her sides.
"I don't know," she whispered. "I think I might. But what if that's not enough?"
"What if it's everything?"
Alice turned to study her friend's profile, recognizing the weight of personal experience in Naomi's voice. As Gerald's best female friend, Naomi had watched him navigate the treacherous waters of Houston University's social hierarchy with a grace that belied his humble origins.
"He's different from us," Alice said, though the words felt hollow even as she spoke them.
"He's better than us," Naomi corrected. "Gerald works twice as hard as any of the legacy kids, shows more kindness than half the student body combined, and he sees people for who they really are rather than what they can do for him. If that's not worth taking a risk for, then what is?"
Alice returned to her chair, sinking into the cushions as if they might swallow her whole. "But what about the practical things? The social events, the family gatherings, the business connections? How do I introduce him to my parents' friends? How do I explain to the country club set that I'm dating a scholarship student who works two jobs just to afford textbooks?"
"You could try the truth," Naomi suggested. "That you're dating someone who makes you happy, who challenges you to be better, who sees the real Alice instead of just the Chen family heiress."
The two friends sat in silence for several minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. Outside, the sounds of campus life continued—car doors slamming as students returned from dinner at restaurants that charged more for a single meal than Gerald spent on groceries in a month, laughter echoing from balconies where groups gathered to plan their next expensive adventure.
"A week," Alice finally said. "I told him I'd give him an answer in a week."
"Then use that week," Naomi advised. "Really think about what you want your life to look like. Not what your parents want, not what society expects, but what would make Alice Chen truly happy."
As Alice nodded, somewhere across the courtyard, Gerald was staring at his dormitory ceiling, counting the cracks in the plaster and wondering if love was ever enough to bridge the gap between worlds. Seven days had never felt so long, or so full of possibility and peril.
The week stretched ahead of them both like uncharted territory, filled with questions that couldn't be answered by wealth or status or family connections. In the end, it would come down to courage—the courage to risk everything for the possibility of something real in a world built on carefully constructed facades.
Time would tell if either of them possessed enough of it to take the leap.