Chapter 5: Dopamine rush

Juniper POV I didn’t know where to put my hands, so I didn’t move them at all. Tristan tried. He shifted like he was going to stand properly, like he was about to reclaim his control and turn this into something he could talk his way out of. But I looked at him first—sharp, direct—and mouthed, ‘don’t move.’ His eyes snapped to mine. For a fraction of a second, I saw it—whatever expression he’d rehearsed in his head before he collided with me. The scoff he always had ready. The smirk he used like an armor. Then it died halfway, because my stare didn’t match his script. Tristan scoffed anyway, breathy and edged. “Are you crazy?” Nolan, still framed in the doorway like he couldn’t decide whether to charge in or retreat, snapped my name again. “Juniper?” I hated that my body recognized him before my brain could. That the sight of him—tired eyes, angry posture—made my stomach tighten with the kind of fear that came from knowing exactly how fast Nolan could turn cruel when he felt embarrassed. Then Nolan’s voice hit the room again, louder than it needed to be. “Juniper?” I didn’t answer, I just stared at Tristan. Because he was the problem right now. And the only way I survived this moment was by making it impossible for anyone to pretend this was normal. Nolan’s voice came through again. “Tristan, get off her now!” Tristan’s mouth opened—he looked like he was about to say something to Nolan. Something dismissive. Something that would make me the punchline. I cut him off. I forced my voice steady, almost annoyed. Like this was a bad inconvenience instead of a humiliating disaster. “I think the ones that need to get out of my room are the both of you.” Nolan took a step inside—immediately defensive, eyes darting from Tristan’s position to mine like he expected to find bruises where there weren’t any yet. “What—” I stared him down. “Can’t you guys read the room? My boyfriend and I are trying a different dopamine rush.” The word ‘boyfriend’ landed like a slap. I regretted saying it the moment it left my mouth, but the new Juniper has grown some spine, so yeah, we’re going to face this like an adult. Tristan’s face did this strange thing—like disbelief wrestling surprise—like he wanted to laugh but couldn’t find the right oxygen for it. His eyes flicked toward me, then away, then back again, as if he was checking to see whether I’d lost my mind. Nolan’s expression tightened, and then he scoffed. “Boyfriend?” He looked between us. “Juniper—” I sat up enough to prove I was fine, that this wasn’t an accident that could be turned into a pity story. I kept my shoulders square. Kept my mouth calm. “Yes,” I said, slowly and clearly, like I was delivering a fact everyone else was late to understand. “You heard me right. Tristan and I are dating, officially.” It was insane. It was dangerous. It was exactly the kind of lie that would either save me or ruin me for the rest of the week. But I’d rather burn than drown. Nolan’s jaw worked like he was trying to find logic in the air. “Tristan—” Tristan finally moved—just a little—like he was halfway from standing and halfway from refusing the whole conversation. “Don’t start—” Nolan snapped, stepping forward. “Juniper? What are you talking about? What the f**k are you talking about?” His eyes sharpened on Tristan, then back on me. “What do you mean by you’re dating my brother? Does that even make sense to you?” I didn’t flinch. I let my gaze stay pinned to Nolan’s. “Does it have to make sense? Or do you just hate that it’s happening?” I paused. “And what’s wrong with dating your brother?” Nolan’s brows drew tight. “And what’s wrong with my brother?” The question came out like he was stumbling over someone else’s sentence. Like his brain was trying to connect dots that didn’t want to connect. Like he couldn’t decide who he was angrier at—me for the audacity, Tristan for the audacity, or the universe for daring to shift the storyline. I let out a short laugh, humorless. “What’s wrong with ‘me’ having a boyfriend?” He didn’t answer fast enough. That made it worse. Tristan’s eyes kept sliding toward me—silent questions. A look that said ‘are you seriously doing this?’ Another look that said ‘are you trying to punish me?’ I gave him none of that. I held a straight face, and kept my voice levelled. My heart was beating out of rhythm now, though. Fast. Aggressive. Like it wanted to betray me. Nolan turned his focus back to me, and his tone turned sharper. “So you’re just going to announce this in my face? In my room? In—” “It’s my room,” I said, and the correction felt satisfying. “Which you walked into.” His face flared. He opened his mouth again, then paused. I watched his eyes shift, the way they did when something finally clicked. He glanced at Mabel, then back at me, then at Tristan. It was like he was calculating. Like he was deciding whether this was a misunderstanding or a strategy. Mabel had barely said anything since they came in. She stood half-turned, arms tight to her body, watching like she was deciding whether to interrupt. Nolan’s anger kept bouncing between us, and when he couldn’t find a target that made sense, he started throwing words instead. “Tristan,” he barked, and the name sounded like an accusation. “Are you seriously dating my bestfriend?” Tristan scoffed again, louder this time, like it amused him that Nolan still thought he was in charge. “Are you—” I cut him off with a look. And that look did something I didn’t expect: it made Tristan go quiet. Not because he agreed with me. Because he understood I was serious. For a moment, Nolan looked like he wanted to argue forever. Like he wanted this to become a physical confrontation because that was the only language he trusted when his life felt messy. But then the air shifted, Mabel moved first. She leaned into Nolan’s shoulder like she was tired of the scene, tired of the momentum. She spoke with a brittle calm. “We’re leaving.” Nolan blinked like he didn’t know he was allowed to stop. “What?” he snapped. Mabel didn’t soften. “You’ve got what you came here for. Now you’re just embarrassing yourself.” Nolan’s eyes flashed to her. Then to me. Then to Tristan again. Like he wanted to keep staring until it turned back into the version of reality he could handle. Then Mabel grabbed Nolan’s arm and pulled him toward the door. Nolan hesitated only long enough to throw one more warning. “Juniper—” I lifted my chin. “No.” He stopped mid-word. Mabel and Nolan moved out together, the door shutting behind them with a solid click that felt too final, too clean for what had happened. The hallway swallowed their voices, and suddenly my room felt too quiet—like silence was also a weapon. Tristan was still on the floor near me. Still too close. Still wearing that expression like someone had turned the volume down on his ego but forgotten to turn it off. When the door closed, he finally exhaled. His eyes narrowed at me, disbelief and amusement wrestling in the same space. “So.” His voice was slow, like he was testing the words. “You called me your boyfriend.”