“I get it. You have a secret boyfriend at most, a late-night booty call at least. Both are perfectly acceptable, and I’m happy for you.”
Guilt pools in my stomach because I haven’t been honest with Stevie. We’ve been hanging out all semester, and I’ve been keeping one of the most important parts of my life a secret. It’snot because I’m ashamed of it, but because I didn’t want history to repeat itself.
Every time I feel like I fit in, Jenni comes back to the forefront of my mind, and I worry I’ve made the same mistake all over again.
“Who knows, maybe Ryan and I will end up in some lacrosse / drama relationship, and I’ll be acting all secretive, like you, too.”
I push out a laugh.
Stevie isn’t Jenni. I know that. I trust my gut enough this time. There’s no ulterior motive with her.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I clarify as I instinctively glance down at my phone. I always do when I think about Zach.
“Oh, he’s not?”
No. He’s more.
I don’t say it. I keep it to myself, because then I open up our complicated dynamic to scrutiny.
“Not really. We have a long history.” I turn the coffee cup in my hands. “It’s been complicated for a long time, but we’re talking again, and it’s good. Better than good. Great, actually.”
“Aww. Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve stopped joking about you and Professor Hotness immediately.”
“I just sometimes prefer to keep things private.”
She nods, and looks at me with so much understanding that it actually makes me want to continue opening up.
“I had a close friendship at my last college, and I gave her a little too much information before I really knew her. It didn’t—” I shake my head. “It didn’t go well.”
“Okay.” She says it simply, no follow-up questions, no pressing for detail. “Well, I'm not her.”
“I know.”
“And I'm not asking you to tell me everything.” She tilts her head. “I've just been watching you smile at your phone for nine weeks, and I wanted you to know that I noticed. That's all.”
“I’ll try to be a little more subtle.”
“Not necessary. Is he good to you?” she asks.
What a question to ask.
Is he good to me?
Is the sun hot? Is the world round?
He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. He’s always seen me for who I am, even when I don’t know who that person is. He accepts me. He tries every day to be better. To give me space. He gives me the confidence to want something more for myself.
“Yeah,” I say. “He’s really good to me.”
“And you're figuring it out.”
“We're figuring it out,” I confirm. “From a distance.”
She nods, satisfied, and picks up her coffee. “Okay.” Then, after a beat: “Is he at least as hot as Professor I’mNotListening?”
I laugh before I can stop it, loud enough that the freshmen in the corner look over again, annoyed. I don’t care. If he wants to study, he should do it in the library.
“That's a yes,” Stevie says.
