PS: I look amazing today. Your loss.
A picture popped through before I could lock the screen.Tru in his cubicle, hair mussed, lips plush and kissable, wearing my old hoodie. The one I’d told him to keep. He had a pencil stuck behind one ear and was flipping off the camera.
I felt like my chest might burst with how much I loved him.
Daneel yelled something across the court about starting another game. I texted one last line before I got up.
Wait till you see what’s in the mail.
Hope you’re ready to come home.
It was a Wednesday night, close to the end of summer. The last stretch. I’d been counting down the days like a human calendar. Eight more to go.
We were FaceTime’ing as usual. Tru was sprawled on his bed, wearing nothing but my jersey and those ridiculously tiny bikini briefs, trying his best to kill me. He was talking about how they’d taken him out for tacos to celebrate his internship ending, and I was half-listening, mostly watching the way his mouth moved and wishing there was a way I could jack off to his face without giving myself away.
I was stretched out on my bed with my laptop on my stomach and a half-eaten granola bar sticking out of my mouth.
“So how’s my favorite intern?” I asked.
“Drowning in rough sketches and instant ramen.”
“Sexy.”
He was about to say more when there was a knock. He glanced toward the door, brows knitting. “Hold on.”
He padded out of frame and came back with a large envelope in his hands.
“Who’s it from?” I asked, like I didn’t already know.
He raised an eyebrow. “What did you do?”
“Open it.”
He peeled the tape back and pulled out the papers first. Then a spare key on a silver ring. His hands went still. For a second, he didn’t say anything.
Then his face split wide open. “You asshole,” he whispered, voice cracking.
There was a lease in the envelope. His name and mine, typed neatly at the top. Our new address, close to campus. And a note tucked inside that read,
Room for all your games and art supplies. One bed. No more goodbyes. Move in with me, Truen.
He covered his mouth, eyes turning glassy. “I hate you,” he choked out.
“Liar,” I said.
“I love you,” he said back. “Dare…”
My voice dropped into what he called myporn voice, the one he said was irresistible. “Say yes, Truen.”
He skimmed the lease one more time as a fat tear rolled down his cheek.
“I want to come home to you. Every day. I want to fall asleep next to you, and wake up next to you, and do normal-ass boring shit like take out the trash and fold laundry and fight overwhere we order dinner from. I want to build a life with you. Starting now.”
“You’re serious,” he whispered.
“I’ve never been more serious about anything.”
“Yes,” he choked out. “Of course, yes.”
