In approximately five minutes, he’d emerge ready for breakfast, and I’d have to face him while pretending I hadn’t spent the night replaying the moment when his eyes had met mine over that dangerously low-slung towel. He must hate me for looking at him like that, for making what should’ve been normal so awkward. I’d never felt this ashamed in my life.
But worse than the embarrassment was the cold fear that had been growing in my chest since the moment I’d fled to my bedroom. Bash wasn’t merely my roommate or even my friend. He was my protection detail, employed by the Crown, with direct lines of communication to the very people I was trying to keep my sexuality from.
What if he reported back to Uncle Henry? What if this entire year of freedom was about to come crashing down because I couldn’t control my wandering eyes? What if?—
“Eddie?” Bash’s voice came through my bedroom door, accompanied by a gentle knock. “Breakfast?”
I took a steadying breath. “I’ll be out in five minutes.”
“Sure thing.”
His footsteps retreated, and I forced myself out of bed. Whatever was going to happen, I couldn’t hide in my bedroom forever. Besides, we had classes to attend, assignments to complete, and a cover to maintain. I couldn’t let one moment of weakness destroy everything.
I emerged from my bedroom to find Bash sitting at our small table with two cups of coffee and what appeared to be a normal expression. No judgment, no disgust, no uncomfortable awareness of what had transpired the evening before. If anything, he seemed more relaxed than usual.
“Mornin’,” he said, offering me one of the mugs. “Sleep okay?”
“Fine, thank you,” I managed, accepting the coffee and trying not to read too much into the way his fingers brushed mine during the exchange. “You?”
“Like a baby.” He stood, gathering his textbooks. “Ready for breakfast and then study group?”
Right. The study group. I’d completely forgotten about that. The last thing I wanted was to sit in a small room with our classmates while trying to pretend everything was normal.
“Absolutely,” I lied.
The walk to the dining hall felt interminable. We maintained our usual easy conversation—Bash commenting on the morning fog rolling in from the Sound, me observing how the air already felt like fall was on its way—but I was hyperaware of every glance, every gesture, every moment.
Did he know? Could he tell what I was thinking? Was he regretting accepting this assignment?
Bash’s face, of course, showed nothing. He was his professional self, effortlessly managing to constantly keep an eye on everything that went on around us and making it look casual, while keeping up the conversation with me.
Breakfast was half an hour of forced normalcy that felt like two hours of pure torture, and by the time we reached the classroom where our study group was meeting, my nerves were stretched to their breaking point. The others were already seated around the large conference table, chatting about the weekend’s reading assignment.
Sarah, a cheerful girl from Oregon who’d appointed herself the unofficial social coordinator of our group, waved at us. “Eddie! Bash! Perfect timing. We were just getting started.”
We found seats next to each other—Bash subtly positioning himself between me and the rest of the group—and I tried to focus on our review of post-Cold War NATO expansion. But I kept catching sideways glances from our classmates, little smiles and meaningful looks that made my stomach clench with anxiety.
“So,” said Kolby, a California native, during a brief break in the discussion, “you two seem to have settled into campus life pretty well.”
“It’s a lovely university,” I replied carefully. “Very welcoming.”
“Oh, totally,” agreed Jessica, a senior whose baby bump seemed to grow by the week. She had that classic pregnancy glow, and I loved how she could sit there in silence and rub two hands across her belly. “And it’s so nice that you have each other. It must make the adjustment so much easier.”
Something in her tone made me look up from my notes. She was smiling at us with a kind of indulgent expression. “Right,” I said slowly.
“You two are adorable,” Sarah added with a grin. “The way you always walk to class together, sit together, finish each other’s sentences sometimes. It’s like you’ve been together forever.”
My mouth went dry. Together. They thought we were together. Dating. A couple.
Rationally, I’d known we were posing as a couple, but I’d imagined that to be more of a theoretical situation. Surely, no one would be rude enough to actually enquire about our exact relationship.
Apparently, I’d been wrong.
“You got so lucky with that apartment,” Kolby said. “Me and my girlfriend applied for one as well, but we didn’t get selected. There’s, like, a two-year waiting list.”
Which meant I couldn’t deny we were together because that would completely blow our reason for getting that apartment.
“It’s a great apartment,” Bash said, sounding far more cool and collected than I could’ve ever managed. “We’re really enjoying it.”
