46 girlfriend in private
There's something about not seeing someone that should make things simpler.
It doesn't.
If anything, it makes everything sharper, more intentional.
Because every conversation, every message, every moment that exists between us now-it's chosen.
There are no accidents when you go to completely different schools.
No running into each other in hallways, no shared classes, no easy proximity to hide behind.
If we talk, it's because one of us reaches for it.
And lately, we both do.
My phone lights up more than it used to, and most of the time it's her. Nothing dramatic, nothing that would look like much to anyone else. Just small messages that shouldn't mean anything more than they do.
Did you survive practice or should I send help
Jess is acting weird again. Suspicious weird.
I saw a clip of your game. You looked... focused. It was annoying.
I answer without thinking about it.
Barely
She's always weird
You liked it
There's less edge in it now. Less of that constant push and pull we used to default to. It's still there, but softer, like neither of us is trying as hard to keep distance between the lines.
And I notice it.
I just don't do anything about it.
Not yet.
?
Her message comes in later that night, simple enough that it shouldn't shift anything.
I stare at it for a second longer than I need to.
Then I type back.
The place we end up choosing is exactly what it sounds like-somewhere in between, a parking lot behind a small coffee place that's already closed for the night. It's not near her school, not near mine, just neutral ground that doesn't belong to either of us.
Quiet, dark enough that no one's paying attention, out of the way.
I get there first.
I lean against my car, hands in my pockets, eyes on nothing in particular. The air's cooler than it was earlier, the kind that settles in slow and makes everything feel a little more still.
I don't usually think too much before seeing her.
Tonight, I do.
Her car pulls in a few minutes later, headlights cutting across the lot before they dim. I watch her step out, close the door, then pause for a second like she's grounding herself before she looks up.
Our eyes meet almost immediately. And there's something different in it. Not dramatic, not obvious, just... less guarded.
She walks toward me, steady and unhurried, like she already knows this conversation matters.
"Hey," I say when she gets close enough.
"Hey."
The word lingers between us for a second longer than it should, like neither of us is rushing to fill the space.
Then she exhales. "I'm tired."
I glance at her, frowning slightly. "Of what?"
She doesn't hesitate this time. Just looks at me straight on. "I'm tired of pretending to be your girlfriend in public."
It hits wrong immediately. Not because I don't hear her-but because I think I do.
"Oh."
The word comes out flat, controlled, like I've already adjusted to it.
I nod once, pushing off the car. "Okay."
Her expression shifts, just slightly. "Okay?"
"If you want out," I continue, keeping my voice even, steady, like this doesn't land any differently than everything else we've done so far, "we can end it. Publicly. Say whatever they need us to say. It doesn't have to be a whole thing."
I shrug like it's nothing, like it's just another decision. But I don't miss the way something tightens in my chest as I say it.
She stares at me like I just said something completely off.
"Wait-no," she says quickly, stepping closer. "That's not what I meant."
I stop. "Then what did you mean?"
She exhales, frustrated now, like the words aren't coming out the way she wants them to.
"I don't want out," she says. "That's not-this isn't-"
She cuts herself off, shaking her head slightly.
"You're not getting it."
"Then explain it."
"I'm trying."
There's a beat where neither of us moves.
And for the first time since I've known her, she looks like she's choosing what to say instead of just saying it.
"I don't want to pretend it's fake anymore," she says finally.
That lands differently, but not clearly enough.
I tilt my head slightly. "You're going to have to be more specific than that."
She lets out a breath that sounds almost like a laugh, but there's no humor in it.
"I'm tired of it only being real when people are watching," she says.
Something in my chest shifts, just slightly.
"I'm tired of it turning off the second no one's around," she continues, quieter now, but steadier. "Like it's something we put on and take off depending on who's looking."
I watch her, actually listening now, letting the words settle instead of reacting to them.
She takes another step closer.
"I don't want to just play your girlfriend," she says.
There's no attitude in it, no sarcasm, no defense.
Just... honesty.
"I want to be your girlfriend."
The words hang there for a second, and I almost think that's it-but then she adds, like she knows I still might not fully get it-
"In private too."
Everything goes quiet. Not the kind of quiet you fill. The kind that settles in and makes you stay still for a second longer than usual. Because that's not what I thought she was going to say. Not even close.
"You're saying..." I start, slower now, making sure I'm actually understanding this right, "you don't want this to just be for show."
"No."
"You want it to be real."
"Yes."
There's no hesitation in it, no second-guessing, no edge to soften it. Just... clear.
And that does something.
Because up until now, I've been the one keeping it contained, defined and controlled.
Fake.
And now she's standing in front of me, asking for the exact opposite. Not carefully, not strategically.
Just because she wants it.
I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, running a hand through my hair briefly before dropping it again. "You know that changes things."
She shrugs a little. "They already changed."
That's not wrong.
I look at her properly then, taking in the way she's standing there like she's already decided this, like she's not going to walk it back even if I don't meet her halfway, like she's choosing this.
Choosing me.
And it shouldn't be that simple.
But it is.
"Okay," I say.
She blinks, like she didn't expect it to come that easily. "Okay?"
I step closer, closing the space between us completely now, close enough that I can see the exact moment she realizes I'm serious. "Okay."
There's no hesitation in it, no performance, no version of this that can be explained away later.
Just... real.
Her breath catches, just slightly, like she's not used to that either. Neither am I.
But I don't step back. And neither does she.
Because for the first time-
we're not pretending.
And I don't want to anymore.