“It’s accurate.”His eyes met mine through the screen.“We are still developing, aren’t we?”
“Yeah,” I said.“We are.”
Maya figured it out on December twenty-third.
Austen told me about it in a text that arrived at 11:47 p.m., long enough that I had to scroll.
Austen:Incident report.Maya walked up behind me in the kitchen while I was reviewing your last attachment.She achieved full visual contact with the screen.
Me:Which attachment?
Austen:The mirror selfie.The shirtless one from the locker room.
I groaned, dropping my head back against the bus seat.I had sent that twenty minutes ago—a flexing joke that was definitely forty percent vanity.
Me:Oh God.
Austen:She studied the image for a full four seconds.She asked if I was switching my major to Anatomy.
Austen:She also asked if the “study materials” were available for checkout.She has drawn conclusions.
Me:I am never looking her in the eye again.
Austen:Too late.She says your obliques are “statistically significant.”
Austen:She said, and I quote: “Oh my GOD, Austen.How long has THIS been happening?”
Me:And you said?
Austen:I attempted to deny.She was not convinced.I attempted to redirect.Also unsuccessful.Finally, I confirmed that we are “involved” and requested her discretion.
Me:How’d she take it?
Austen:She hugged me.Made hot chocolate.Then she asked seventeen questions about timeline, physical compatibility, and whether you are good to me.Her words.
Me:Am I?
Austen:I told her yes.She seemed satisfied.She has promised not to tell anyone, including Ryan, which she emphasized would require “significant willpower” given their apparent ongoing communication.
I read the message three times.Someone else knew now.Someone outside the two of us.The secret had expanded, and with it the risk—but also, maybe, the reality.If Maya knew, then this was something that existed in the world, not just in the space between our beds.
Me:You okay?
Austen:Unexpectedly relieved.The cognitive load of maintaining complete secrecy was harder than I expected.Having one person who knows… it helps.
Me:Yeah.It does.
Austen:She also informed me that she “called it” weeks ago and that we are “disgustingly cute.”I am not sure how to process that feedback.
Me:Accept it.We’re disgustingly cute.
Austen:If you say so.
Me:I say so.Now, go to bed.It’s almost midnight.
Austen:Fine.But only because your imperative aligns with my circadian preferences.
Me:That’s the nerdiest “good night” I’ve ever seen.
