“Yeah. It’s only been a couple of days, but we’re making it work.”
“Making it work,” she repeated slowly. “You and Owen. In the same apartment. Alone.”
“There’s a spare room, Syn.”
Technically true. The spare room existed. My stuff was in it. The fact that I hadn’t actuallysleptthere was a detail she didn’t need to know.
And here I was, lying through my teeth.
“How’s that going?” Syn asked, something unreadable in her tone. “Staying with Owen?”
“Not too bad.” I forced a casual shrug. “He’s messier than I expected. Leaves his socks everywhere like he’s marking territory. Has a weird obsession with protein powder that borders on religious. But he’s not a terrible roommate.”
“Mhm.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” She tilted her head, studying me through the screen like I was a puzzle she was trying to solve. “You just seem... different.”
“Different how?”
“I don’t know. Happier, maybe?” A pause. “Or more stressed. I genuinely can’t decide which.”
Both. Definitely both. I was riding an emotional roller coaster that swung between deliriously happy and absolutely terrified, sometimes within the span of a single heartbeat.
“It’s just the studying,” I said. “School is brutal this semester.”
God, I hated this. The half-truths. The careful omissions. The way I had to think three steps ahead before every sentence. Syn was my best friend. My person. The one I told everything to, always, without hesitation or filter.
“Right.” She didn’t sound convinced. “School.”
The secret was eating me alive. The weight of it pressed against my chest like a physical thing, making it hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to be the person Syn thought I was.
She was my best friend. If I couldn’t tell her, who the hell could I tell?
“Can you keep a secret?”
Syn’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of secret?”
“The kind you can’t tell anyone and I meananyone, Syn. Not Jax. Not Kaia. Not your new annoying roommate who eats your cereal with his bare hands.”
“He’s not my roommate. He’s an asshole.” But her expression had gone serious, the teasing edge evaporating. “What’s going on, Har?”
“Promise me first.”
“I promise.”
“No, seriously.Promiseme. If I tell you this, it stays between us.”
“Harlow.” Her voice softened, worry bleeding through. “You’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”
Nothing’s wrong.Everything’s actually kind of perfect. That’s the problem.
I took a breath. Let it out slowly.
“Owen and I are kind of... dating.”
Silence.
