His Baby

Bird’s POV

The buzzing of my alarm was the first cruel reminder that this was my life now. I groaned and rolled over, smashing the snooze button and burying my face into the pillow. College was supposed to be this amazing new adventure, right? But all I could think was: Is this it? Is this really all there is? Here I was, living in my very own apartment on campus in LA, a world away from my small town in New Hampshire, and somehow…I already felt underwhelmed. Just me, myself, and my laptop—the most stable relationship in my life.

I sighed, glancing around my little room, piled with clothes I hadn’t bothered to hang up yet and boxes I hadn’t fully unpacked. “You’re going to die a boring virgin, Bird Lovelace,” I muttered into my pillow. I hadn’t had a boyfriend, hadn’t done much of anything, really. My life was a carefully curated mix of anime binges, late-night gaming marathons, and endless hours of coding, crammed between intermittent moments of vaguely functional social interaction.

Rolling out of bed, I shuffled to my closet and grabbed the first comfy thing I could find. This wasn’t New Hampshire anymore—LA was bright, fast, and demanding. I still felt like a fish out of water here. And college? It was supposed to be this big shift, where I’d suddenly transform into someone who could flirt effortlessly and turn heads. But reality? Probably more like sticking to routine, watching anime, creating software, and gaming with my online friends. I wasn’t here for any Hollywood high school transformation; I was here to be me—just hopefully a slightly better version.

I adjusted my glasses, which served more as a shield from the constant glare of my laptop than anything else, and headed out. My first class in the Computer Science program was today, and the nerves had set in, mingling with an undeniable excitement. The buzz around campus was electric; everyone had this raw, unfiltered energy about them, like we were all on the cusp of something big. I wasn’t sure what my “big” thing would be, but I hoped it’d be more than just late nights coding and eating instant ramen.

As I sat in the lobby, I couldn’t help but notice groups of girls clustered in the main hallway, squealing and whispering, some even holding up their phones to snap pictures. I glanced up, annoyed at the noise, and spotted what they were looking at: some guy in a black trapper hat with thick, fluffy fur hiding half his face. His clothes were punk, streetwear, expensive-looking, the kind of high-fashion that looked effortless and made you feel like you were underdressed just being near it.

I didn’t know who he was, but based on the reaction he was getting, he must’ve been someone famous. Must be nice to be adored by a swarm of girls on the daily, I thought wryly. I looked around and saw some of them nearly falling over each other to get noticed by him. Even through the chaos, though, I felt detached. If he was famous, what difference did it make? He was just another guy who’d waltzed into college with a ready-made fanbase. And right now, he was in the way of my peace.

I rolled my eyes and pushed up my glasses, focusing back on the real reason I was here: the tournament. Today was the final round in an online strategy game tournament I’d entered back in the summer, and the grand prize wasn’t just some tacky trophy—it was cold, hard cash. So while everyone else was tripping over themselves to get a peek at LA’s new favorite rockstar, I was trying to outwit my opponent and secure that prize. But with the noise level rapidly rising, my patience was running thin.

With a quick glance at my opponent’s status bar on my laptop screen, I shut my laptop and slipped away from the commotion, heading down the hall to the computer room. Maybe once I was away from the madness, I could finally get back to business.

After classes, I found myself walking to dinner with Joe, a coursemate I’d clicked with on the first day. Joe was one of the few people who actually understood my constant complaints about software lag, lag I was sure was entirely my laptop’s fault and not my habit of having twenty tabs open while running three applications simultaneously.

“I’m telling you, it’s like my laptop has officially waved the white flag,” I grumbled, adjusting my glasses as we walked. “Every time I try to run anything heavy, it practically begs me for mercy.”

Joe chuckled. “I mean, it’s probably struggling to keep up with you, Bird. You can’t just run a thousand things at once and expect it to keep up.”

I sighed. “I know, I know. I just wish it’d hang in there a little longer. I want to start using this new program, but every time I try, my system lags so bad I can hear it crying.”

Joe nudged me with his elbow. “I could take a look at it, make a few tweaks to reduce the lag. It might buy you some time.”

“Seriously? You’d do that?” I perked up, grateful. “I’ll buy you a smoothie to say thanks.”

“Make it a hot honey chicken biscuit, and you’ve got a deal,” he said with a grin as we neared the campus restaurant.

Inside, the warm smells of melted cheese and roasted chicken drifted over us, and I realized just how hungry I was. I ordered my usual—cheesy chicken garlic wrap and a strawberry smoothie—while Joe ordered his beloved hot honey chicken biscuit.

As we waited, Joe leaned back in his chair, glancing around the restaurant. “So, tell me—have you heard about this celebrity guy all the girls are obsessed with on campus?”

I shrugged, taking a sip of my smoothie. “Nope, haven’t got a clue. Honestly, I don’t really keep up with that stuff. I’ve got enough distractions with my coding projects.”

Joe raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, that checks out. Well, apparently, this guy is famous-famous. Like, rockstar status. My sister’s back home, and even she has posters of him plastered all over her room.”

I snorted. “Must be exhausting, having that much attention all the time. Girls squealing and losing their minds every time he walks by? Sounds like my worst nightmare.”

“Right?” Joe chuckled. “From what I’ve heard, he’s pretty laid-back about it. But still, I don’t know how anyone deals with that level of fame and stays sane.”

Our food arrived, and we dove in, my mind drifting away from “celebrity rockstars” as I focused on my next software project and the upgrades Joe was going to help me with.