Miles Away

I woke up to absolute silence.

There was no Sensei yelling at me to fix my posture. There were no high school rumors. There were no disappointed looks from my former friends. Just the quiet, empty space of my new apartment.

The scent of fresh paint and new furniture greeted me as I walked into the kitchen. I brewed a pot of black coffee, letting the rich, bitter aroma fill the spacious loft. Ahhh. I stepped out onto my private balcony, lit a cigarette, and took a slow drag, washing it down with a sip of hot coffee. This was the perfect way to start a day. I was finally operating on my own terms.

I laid out a tactical plan for my first day. Step one: walk the perimeter of my neighborhood to familiarize myself with the grid. Step two: run a practice drive to the UIC campus to measure the traffic lights and commute time. Step three: locate a neutral hangout spot—a café or a park—for when the loft started to feel too claustrophobic.

I grabbed my jacket and hit the pavement.

After walking a few blocks, the July heat started getting to me. I scanned the sidewalk for a place to rest and smoke. I spotted a wooden bench under the thick shade of an oak tree. The only catch was that the other half of the bench was already occupied by a guy in a tracksuit, smoking a cigarette and staring at the traffic.

I walked up. "Excuse me," I said, offering a polite, neutral nod.

He looked me up and down, gave a sharp nod in return, and shifted his knees to make room. I sat down on the opposite end, pulled out my pack, and lit up.

We sat in silence for a minute before he suddenly spoke.

"You European too?" he asked. His voice was deep, laced with a thick, unmistakable Russian accent. He leaned forward and offered his hand. "Nikolay."

I looked at his hand, then met his eyes. He wasn't a threat; he was just genuinely curious. "Daeron," I replied, shaking his hand firmly. "And yes, technically. I was born in Denmark, but I've lived in the States since I was seven."

"You're Danish?" Nikolay squinted through the cigarette smoke, studying my face. "But you look Balkan, brother. You have the dark hair and the grey eyes."

"It's a mix," I smirked. "My father is Spanish-Serbian, and my mother is Danish-Russian."

"Blyad! Very confusing genetics!" he burst into a booming, infectious laugh that echoed down the street.

"What about you?" I asked, relaxing my posture. "Your name and accent are pure Russian."

"My father is German, and my mother is Russian. I was actually born in Germany, so my passport says I am German, but I spent most of my life growing up in the Motherland," he laughed, waving his cigarette in the air. "So, did you move in around here recently? You don't carry yourself like a tourist."

"Yeah. I'm starting classes soon. I'm going to study at UIC."

"Oh, ho! Me too! I’m already a sophomore there."

"Nice. I’m an incoming freshman. I just moved into my loft a few blocks down the street."

"Bomba! We are neighbors, then!" he grinned, his enthusiasm completely unfiltered. "We definitely have to party together later! I know some frat houses near campus that throw incredible parties. Lots of pussies, brother!"

I chuckled at his bluntness. It was a massive contrast to Alvin's nerdy rambling or Tyson's serious lectures. "Hahaha, sure. Couldn't hurt to check it out."

"I know some great local pubs too. We'll visit them this weekend!"

"Whoa, hold on," I raised a hand. "I’m only nineteen. I don't have a fake ID. I’m pretty sure they won't let me in."

"Bah! Nonsense!" Nikolay waved off my concern with a flick of his wrist. "If you walk in with Nikolay, you get a free pass everywhere! They know me. So, what do you say?"

I looked at him. I had spent the last six months pushing people away. But sitting here with this loud, confident Russian guy, I realized I had a completely blank slate. I didn't have to be the disgraced martial artist anymore.

"Well... fuck it," I smiled, pulling out my phone. "Let’s exchange numbers so you can text me the address later."

"Bomba! That’s my guy!"

After we exchanged contacts, we shot the breeze for a little while longer before I headed back to my loft.

Later that afternoon, I executed step two of my plan, driving the route to campus to memorize the traffic patterns. By the time I returned home, the city already felt a little smaller.

During my first month living in Chicago, I ended up hanging out with Nikolay almost every day. He was true to his word. He showed me the underground local bars where the bouncers looked the other way. He introduced me to his inner circle—Boris and Andrew, two other UIC sophomores who shared his chaotic, high-energy vibe.

Through them, my quiet, isolated summer was completely shattered. I officially abandoned my disciplined past and dove headfirst into the loud, intoxicating party life of University.

**

A week before the fall semester officially kicked off, my phone buzzed. Jessica had finally moved into her dorm at UChicago.

I immediately texted her, asking if she wanted to hang out that night. She replied that she actually wanted to see my new loft first. I offered to drive down and pick her up, but she stubbornly insisted on taking the "L" train alone because she wanted to learn how to navigate the city transit. I texted her my address and waited.

About thirty minutes later, she texted that she was at the corner bodega. I threw on a fitted black t-shirt and a leather jacket, and walked down to the street level to guide her up.

I spotted her instantly on the sidewalk. But when she saw me, she stopped dead in her tracks.

"Daeron?" Her green eyes were wide, blinking in genuine surprise.

"What’s up with you, Jess?" I squinted, wondering if I had spilled something on my shirt.

She closed the distance between us. Instead of hugging me, she reached up, her cool fingers gently tracing my jawline. "My God. Just in one month... you look so different." Her eyes scanned me from head to toe, taking in the leather jacket, the fitted jeans, and the boots.

"What do you mean?" I asked, a slow smirk forming.

"You look… more manly," she breathed. "I love your new haircut. Your whole style changed! You don't look like a high school bum anymore."

I laughed, shaking my head. "I looked like a bum?"

"Yeah!! You used to wear baggy gym clothes all the time! How come you look so completely different after just thirty days in the city?"

"Uhh, I don’t know. I made some new friends," I explained casually. "I met this guy named Nikolay. He's a sophomore at UIC. He’s been showing me around the underground city scene and introducing me to his crew. Because I still looked like a stiff high school athlete, they took me shopping. They suggested I change up my style so I looked older and more mature... mostly so bouncers wouldn't card us at the local bars."

"Whoa! Whoa! Hold on." Jessica laughed, her eyes lighting up with genuine excitement. "So in your first month here, the stoic Karate kid has already become a wild party dude?"

"Uhh, alright, enough roasting," I chuckled, gently grabbing her hand. "Come on. Let me show you my place."

"Let’s go. I’m dying of curiosity!" Her eyes shone brightly as she followed me into the building lobby. She leaned close to my ear as we stepped into the elevator. "And… you look incredibly handsome right now, Tiger," she whispered, her voice low and sultry.

I just smirked, the familiar, addictive rush of her attention flooding my veins.

*

I unlocked the heavy wooden door. Jessica stepped inside and gasped. She immediately dropped her bag and started wandering around the massive, open-concept loft, her hands trailing over the exposed brick walls and the new furniture.

"Oh my God! Tiger, your place is amazing! Look at this space! You have a private balcony too!"

"Let me grab us some beers," I said, heading to the kitchen island. "Grab those heavy floor cushions and set them up out there."

By the time I walked out onto the balcony with two cold bottles, Jessica had already arranged the cushions around a small coffee table. The city lights glowed beautifully behind her.

"Ahhh," she sighed happily, leaning back against the brick exterior and taking a long swig of her beer. "I think this balcony is officially going to become our new hangout spot."

"Of course it is. You’re always welcome here, Cheeto," I smiled, sitting down across from her. I loved seeing her look so comfortable in my territory. "So... why did you decide to move into a tiny campus dorm anyway?"

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, the city wind blowing her shortened red hair. "I wanted to familiarize myself with the whole 'college life' experience first. Just for the first semester, at least."

"I don't expect a girl like you to be comfortable living in a cramped dorm, though."

"I'm not," she groaned, rolling her eyes. "At first, I thought I was going to get a single room, you know? It turns out I have to share a tiny shoebox with a random roommate. And the communal bathrooms are awful."

"Well, you said it yourself. You wanted the authentic college life experience, right?" I teased.

"Yeah... but it’s really not what I expected," she muttered, taking another long drink to numb her frustration.

"Well, move in with me then," I offered. I kept my voice perfectly casual, but my heart beat a little faster. "There’s plenty of closet space for your stuff in the loft."

She froze. She looked away, her eyes distant as she stared out at the passing headlights on the street below. "Let me... consider it first. I just moved all my boxes in over there."

"Sure," I said, pulling out a cigarette to hide my disappointment. "The offer stands. My door is always open."

"Why did you choose this specific place, though?" she asked suddenly, her eyes narrowing as she looked back into the massive living room. "It's so far from your classes."

"Because the industrial vibe is cool here, and it’s honestly not that far of a drive to UIC. Plus... the rent is affordable."

"Affordable?" She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Daeron, I’m not an idiot. I can tell this loft is incredibly expensive."

Shit. I had to play it cool. I didn't want to admit my dad owned the building; I wanted her to think I was independent. "Well, spending a little extra cash is necessary as long as we’re vibing with the place, you know?" I deflected smoothly.

She let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders dropping. "That’s true. I did try to look around at some vacant apartments near UChicago too, but most of them didn't meet my expectations yet."

"Oh? So you initially wanted to rent your own place instead of staying in a dorm?"

"Well… yeah," she admitted quietly. "That’s why I decided to just move into the dorm for the first semester. To buy some time. And to get familiar with college life," she repeated her rehearsed excuse, taking another drink. "Anyway! Stop talking about boring real estate. Tell me the story of your first month here! I am dead curious how the hell you changed so much."

I spent the next two hours talking, the smoke from my cigarette mixing with the cold beer. I told her all about Nikolay's crazy Russian energy, Boris, Andrew, and the underground spots I had discovered. She listened intently, her eyes wide with fascination at my new, unrestricted life.

Late that night, she finally checked her phone and said she had to head back to the dorm to finish unpacking. We agreed to meet up again later in the week once her class schedule was finalized. I drove her back to Hyde Park, dropping her off near the UChicago dorms. As I drove back to my empty loft, I couldn't help but hope she would take me up on my offer to move in.

**

College hit me like a freight train.

The endless orientations, the massive lecture halls, and the exhausting group projects completely obliterated my schedule. For the first few weeks, Jessica and I fought hard to maintain our routine. We met up every weekend, either at a downtown café or at my loft. But as the syllabus thickened, the distance between us grew. The meetups became rare. The FaceTime calls dwindled.

By October, she was becoming a ghost. I would sit out on my balcony for hours, nursing a cold beer and burning through half a pack of cigarettes, just staring at my phone waiting for her to text me back. When I called, she hit ignore. Hours later, she would text a brief apology, claiming she was buried in assignments or hanging out with her new UChicago friends. She even started bailing on our weekend plans at the very last minute.

Shit. I hated it. I had pushed Tyson, Jones and Alvin away to isolate myself with her, and now she was pulling away too. I refused to sit alone in my loft while she lived her best life across the city.

So, I threw myself into the Russian chaos.

Whenever I wasn't in class, I was with Nikolay’s crew. We claimed Nikolay’s messy apartment as our basecamp, and I quickly integrated into their bizarre, found-family dynamic.

Andrew was the domestic backbone—he acted like the group's housekeeper and chef. His menu didn't vary much, but his heavy, Eastern European cooking always hit the spot after a long night of drinking.

Boris was the enforcer. Despite his terrifying, silent demeanor, he possessed a photographic memory, acting as a walking notebook for Andrew and Nikolay.

And Nikolay was the chaotic leader. He was the ultimate party planner and the central hub for every rumor on the UIC campus.

My role in the crew? I was the brooding wingman. Because of my new wardrobe and my stoic attitude, they used me as "bait" to pull girls at the local clubs. It worked perfectly for them, but I never took a girl home. No matter how much vodka I drank, I just didn't have the appetite for anyone else. If she didn't smell like vanilla, I didn't care.

*

By the time November rolled around, my communication with Jessica had completely died.

But it wasn't her fault anymore. It was mine. The roles had completely reversed. I was the one missing her calls. I was the one leaving her texts on read for days. A few times, she even took the train to visit my loft on the weekends, only to find my door locked because I was already passed out on Nikolay’s couch across town.

I was drowning myself in the University party scene, and I was dragging our relationship down with me.

Winter Break, 2011. The grueling fall semester finally ended. I decided to stay in my loft for the holidays instead of flying out to Europe. Nikolay and the boys were staying in Chicago too, and they had already hyped up a massive, infamous frat party happening right before Christmas. I figured I would go, and maybe—if I remembered—I would invite Jessica to tag along.

Bzzzt.

My phone rattled against the glass coffee table. I picked it up.

Jessica: Call me when you have time.

No emojis. No nickname. Just cold, flat text. It radiated disappointment.

I stepped out onto the freezing balcony, lit a cigarette, and dialed her number.

"What’s up, Jess?" I said smoothly when the line connected.

"Do you actually have time to speak right now?" she asked. Her voice was pure ice.

"Yeah... sorry," I sighed, rubbing my eyes. "I just didn't anticipate that college life would take up so much of my time."

"Your party life, you mean?" she corrected sharply.

"Not really. The freshman assignments were ridiculously time-consuming, too."

"Right. And yet you still managed to find plenty of time to get wasted with your 'new' friends," she fired back, hitting the nail perfectly on the head.

"Hey… I’m sorry, okay? I've been busy. I will make it up to you later, when you actually have time for me."

"…. Come with me to a party, then," she challenged instantly. "Tonight. At 8 PM."

"Whoa, tonight?" I blinked, caught completely off guard.

"What? You can’t?"

"Sure... yeah, I can go. What kind of party is it?"

"It’s a sorority party. My friends from the dorm invited me. Don’t worry, it’s co-ed."

My arrogant pride flared up. "Uh-huh. Let me guess: your new college friends bailed on you, right? And that’s why you're calling to invite me at the very last minute?"

"Why would you say that?!" Her voice suddenly cracked, the icy anger breaking into genuine, frustrated hurt. "I called you three times this week, but you never picked up! I texted you the details for this party two weeks ago! But you completely ignored me! I did invite my friends. But since the sorority allowed us to bring a plus-one, I kept the slot open for you because I wanted to see you!"

My stomach dropped. The cigarette ash fell from my fingers onto the concrete.

"Alright... alright, I’m sorry," I stammered, all my arrogant confidence evaporating. "I was just teasing you, Jess. That was out of line. I’ll come to your campus around 7 PM tonight, okay?"

She took a shaky breath on the other end of the line. "Fine. I’ll wait for you at our usual spot."

"Sure, Jess. I'll see you later."

"See you." Click.

I stood on the freezing balcony, feeling like an absolute piece of trash. I pulled the phone away from my ear and scrolled up through our text thread. There it was. Two weeks ago, she had sent a long text asking me to be her date to this party. I had completely ignored it.

Fuck. I had spent the first month of college terrified that she was abandoning me, only to spend the next two months actively abandoning her. I was going to have to do some serious damage control tonight.

**

At 7:00 PM on the dot, I pulled my collar up against the freezing December wind and leaned against the brick wall at our usual meeting spot near the UChicago campus.

A few minutes later, I spotted her. Jessica was walking quickly down the pavement. She was wearing a heavy winter coat, a stylish knit shawl, and a pair of tight denim jeans. Her ginger hair was let loose, the cold wind blowing it in gorgeous frames around her face. Even after weeks of ignoring each other, my heart still skipped a beat when I looked at her.

"Hey," I said, offering a small smile. "Want to grab a hot coffee first before we head to this party?"

She stopped in front of me, her green eyes scanning my face. She didn't smile back. "Sigh. You still have a hangover, don't you?"

"Just a little bit," I admitted, my head still throbbing slightly from the vodka I drank with Nikolay last night. "Come on. We can sit down inside. You can order whatever you want. The party doesn't really kick off for another hour anyway."

"No, I can't," she shook her head firmly. "I already promised Martha and the girls I would walk over to their dorm to pick them up so we could walk in together."

"… Alright," I muttered, my patience already thinning. "Then I’ll just wait for you in that café across the street."

"….. You won't come with me to pick them up?" she asked, her voice dropping in disbelief.

My ego immediately flared. I was already doing her a favor by showing up to this preppy college party. "For what? Just text them to come meet us here. Why should we bother walking six blocks in the freezing cold just to pick them up?"

Without waiting for her to argue, I turned around and walked straight through the glass doors of the café.

I ordered a latte, sat down at a corner table, and took a sip. A moment later, the bell above the door chimed. Jessica stormed inside, radiating frustration. She sat down aggressively in the chair across from me, pulled out her phone, and started furiously texting her friends.

We sat in total, agonizing silence for twenty minutes.

Staring at my coffee cup, a heavy wave of guilt washed over me. Fuck. I had promised myself this morning that I was going to make things right tonight. Instead, my arrogant pride had just pissed her off before the night even started. But still... acting like a chaperone for her dorm friends? It felt completely absurd.

Eventually, the café door swung open, and three girls walked in. Jessica immediately stood up, her bright, bubbly cheerleader persona snapping perfectly into place. She introduced me to Mell, Josy, and her best friend, Martha. I gave them polite, tight-lipped nods, and we all headed out to the party together.

*

Because we arrived so early, the off-campus sorority house was mostly empty. The music was playing, but the dance floor was dead. I grabbed a red plastic cup from the kitchen and stood near the wall. I noticed a few other guys hovering near the couches, which meant I wasn't the only guy dragged here as a plus-one.

"Why do you look so incredibly bored?"

Jessica appeared beside me, crossing her arms over her chest, clearly still harboring anger from the café.

"Huh? Bored? We literally just walked through the front door, Jess. How can I be bored?"

"Maybe you expected this party to be a lot wilder. Like the usual underground parties you go to now," she scoffed, glaring at my cup.

"You don't even know what kind of parties I attend," I retorted, my jaw clenching. "Why are you being so judgy?"

"Oh, I don’t have to actually attend your parties to know what goes on!" she fired back, her voice rising over the pop music. "Just based on how many times you've blatantly ignored my calls and left my texts on read this month, I can already guess!"

"Hey. Chill out," I warned her, stepping closer so her friends wouldn't hear us arguing. "I already told you on the phone, I’ve been buried in ridiculous assignments too. And if you really don’t believe me, why don't you just pack your bags and move into my loft?"

Her face immediately drained of color. "Why would you bring that up right now?!" she hissed, glancing nervously over her shoulder. "I already told you I can’t do that!"

"You explicitly told me you would consider moving in after the fall semester was done. The semester is over, Jess. So what’s your actual answer?"

"Stop trying to bend the topic!" she yelled, losing her composure entirely. "We’re still talking about your blatant neglect of me!"

"Then what the fuck do you want me to do, Jess?!" I snapped, my temper finally exploding. "Am I supposed to just sit alone on my balcony doing absolutely nothing, waiting like a dog for your damn texts and calls?! What about you?! You only ever call me when you miraculously decide you 'aren't busy'! Why am I the bad guy for doing the exact same thing?!"

"…." She shrank back, her mouth opening and closing as my logic boxed her in.

"You always reject my calls when you’re supposedly 'busy' on the weekends!" I pressed my advantage, stepping into her space. "So now the question is: what exactly are you doing when you’re so busy?"

She completely froze. Her green eyes darted away, staring blankly at the floor. She didn't say a single word.

"See?" I scoffed, a bitter, nauseating feeling rising in my stomach. "You always do this. Whenever I confront you with actual facts, you shut down. This is bullshit. I’m done here."

I slammed my red cup down on a side table, turned my back on her, and walked straight out the front door. I didn't care about the confused stares from her friends or the host. I just needed to get out.

I marched down the freezing street toward my parked car, digging my keys out of my jacket. Just as my fingers brushed the door handle, a hand slammed flat against the window, physically blocking me from opening the door.

Jessica was standing there, panting heavily from sprinting after me.

"What do you want?!" I demanded, glaring down at her.

"Why are you acting like this?!" she yelled, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "You already know my situation! You know my parents are strict!"

"No. I don’t. Because you never tell me the full picture!"

"Because it is none of your business! Why are you always meddling in my life?!" she screamed, her voice echoing off the brick buildings.

"Because I care about you!!" I roared.

The words ripped themselves out of my throat before I could stop them.

"Do you seriously not realize it yet?!" I yelled, my chest heaving, the icy wind biting my face. "I already told you, I care about you! I really, truly love you, Jess!!! Don’t you understand that??!!"

"…."

The street went completely, terrifyingly silent.

She just stood there. She didn't argue. She didn't yell. She just stared at me. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with absolute, horrified panic. There was no affection in her gaze. There was no relief that I had finally confessed. There was only guilt.

In that endless silence, the cold reality finally broke through my stubborn, arrogant ego.

She doesn't love me. Fuck… Why… I closed my eyes, a crushing, physical ache radiating through my ribs. I had given her everything. And it meant absolutely nothing.

I took a slow, heavy step back from her, putting distance between our bodies for the final time.

I took a deep, shaky breath, forcing my voice to remain perfectly flat. "Fine. Let’s just end this today."

She flinched as if I had struck her.

"I will not bother you anymore," I continued, staring at the concrete. "I will not meddle in your business ever again. I’m sorry I snapped at you inside." I looked up, meeting her terrified green eyes with total emptiness. "Please. Step away from the car. I want to go home."

She slowly lowered her hand from the glass window. She took two steps back onto the sidewalk, wrapping her arms around her own chest to ward off the cold.

I opened the door, slid into the driver's seat, and started the engine. I didn't look back as I drove away. I needed space. I needed a drink. But most of all, I was going to need to figure out how to survive in this city entirely alone.