I’m not good at noticing change—just the after. But this time, I can feel the shift in the air between us. A countdown I didn’t know had started.
I foundhim on the floor with his laptop, legs crossed, earbuds in, a half-empty smoothie sweating beside him. His eyes lifted when I came in, and in a single, practiced motion, Tru closed the screen, like he hadn’t just been reading something that mattered.
“Hey,” he said lightly.
My gut twisted. “Hey. What were you doing?”
“Nothing. Just checking emails.”
It was the smallest pause, but I’d learned to hear the spaces in Tru’s words, the quiet between his breaths that gave him away. I nodded slowly and tossed my keys onto the desk, the sound too loud in the room.
“You got it, didn’tyou.”
It came out rough, more accusation than question.
Tru hesitated, bracing for a hit that hadn’t come yet. Then he nodded. “I did. I—I got the internship.” He said it softly, like an apology.
I stared at him. He didn’t ask how I knew, didn’t accuse me of snooping—which, yeah, I had. I’d do it again, because Truen belonged to me, and after years of being without him, I couldn’t stomach the not knowing. I needed his truths. Every one of them.
I sat down hard on the edge of the bed, air thinning in my lungs. “When were you gonna tell me?”
“I just found out a few hours ago.”
“But the interview was days ago.”
He swallowed, eyes flicking down. “I needed to know for sure.”
My vision blurred, the room closing in around the sound of my pulse. He crossed the space between us, his hands settling on my knees like he could hold me steady through sheer will.
“It’s just for the summer,” he said.
I looked at him—really looked—and it fucking hurt how much I loved him. “Then I’ll go with you.”
“Dare—”
“I will. I’ll get a job, find a sublet?—”
“Babe.”
“I mean it,” I said, voice cracking. I didn’t have a plan, barely had savings, but I couldn’t stand the thought of being left behind.
He took a slow breath, eyes flicking up to mine. “I think youshould take the offer from Coach Harmon. The summer program at the rec center. You were excited about that.”
“It’s not New York.” My throat felt raw.It’s not you.
I’d just gotten him back. I couldn’t lose him. Not when everything in me still felt like it was catching up to the moment I stopped pretending I didn’t orbit him, that I realized he was the gravity I’d spent my life fighting against.
“No,” he said quietly. “It’s your start, and New York is mine.”
His words slid under my skin, quiet and fatal.
Everything in me that wanted to make this not goodbye surged forward. “You’re asking me to stay.” My voice broke on the last word.
“I’m asking you to trust this won’t end just because we’re apart.”
The cuff on his wrist caught the light—the one I gave him, my words etched inside:I dare you to live your truth.
I wanted to tell himmy truth is you.But maybe it was both. Him, and the version of me that finally knew how to fight for what mattered.
