Fifty
Savannah noticed the eye contact before she noticed the food.
It kept happening without intention. Stolen glances as they sat at the table. Tilly’s eyes caught hers in the middle of someone else’s sentence. A half-smile that wasn’t asking anything, just checking in.
Still here.
The table was crowded in a way Savannah hadn’t let herself have in a long time.
Jamie and Erin sat across from them, wine glasses already half empty, jackets tossed over chairs like they planned to stay awhile.
The apartment felt warmer than usual, fuller.
It had been waiting for this exact configuration of people.
Jamie gestured with her fork, mid-story. “I’m just saying, if your job requires you to pretend you didn’t hear that question, you should at least get hazard pay.”
Erin laughed, leaning back in her chair. “You love asking those questions.”
“I love the truth,” Jamie corrected. “The chaos is incidental.”
Savannah smiled, listening, letting herself exist in the moment without scanning for exits. Tilly sat beside her, knee brushing hers under the table, solid and unassuming. No tension. No static. Just presence.
Savannah reached for her water and caught Tilly looking at her.
Not staring. Just… there.
Savannah held the gaze for half a second longer than necessary. Tilly’s mouth curved slightly, like they were amused by being caught. Savannah felt warmth bloom low in her chest.
Jamie clocked it immediately.
“Oh my god,” she said, pointing her fork between them. “You two are doing that thing.”
Savannah blinked. “What thing?”
“The eye thing,” Jamie said. “The ‘we are emotionally aligned in a way that makes everyone else feel like a third wheel’ thing.”
Erin snorted. “She does this with me, too.”
Jamie leaned toward Savannah. “Isn’t it annoying?”
Savannah smiled before she could overthink it. “No.”
Tilly huffed a quiet laugh beside her.
Erin lifted her glass. “To stability,” she said. “And not imploding during the holidays.”
Jamie clinked her glass against Erin’s. “A true miracle.”
They all drank. Savannah let the moment stretch.
Conversation ebbed and flowed easily. Work stories. Food critiques. Jamie dramatically praised the pasta like she’d been deprived of it her whole life. Erin was helping herself to seconds without comment.
At some point, Jamie pointed at Tilly with her fork again. “Okay, serious question. How do you put up with her?”
Savannah opened her mouth, already defensive.
Tilly beat her to it.
“She’s lucky I love her.”
The words dropped into the space between them like a stone into still water.
The table went silent.
Jamie froze mid-bite. Erin’s glass hovered halfway to her mouth. Savannah felt her breath catch, sharp and sudden, like the air had shifted.
Tilly didn’t seem to notice at first. They were reaching for the salt, completely at ease, until the quiet stretched long enough to register.
“What?” they asked, glancing up.
Jamie’s eyes were wide. “You—”
Erin cleared her throat, clearly fighting a smile. “You just—”
Savannah stared at Tilly, heart pounding so hard she was sure everyone could hear it.
Tilly blinked once.
Then twice.
“Oh,” they said.
The realization crossed their face slowly. Not panic. Just surprise.
They looked at Savannah.
Not checking for damage. Not bracing. Just looking.
Savannah didn’t look away.
She didn’t fill the silence. Didn’t rescue the moment. She just held their gaze, steady and open, like she trusted it to stand on its own.
Tilly’s mouth curved, sheepish. “I mean,” they added, glancing around the table, “I was kidding. Mostly.”
Jamie let out a noise that was half-laugh, half-gasp. “You can’t just mostly love someone at a dinner party.”
Erin laughed outright now. “You two are ridiculous.”
Savannah finally exhaled. She reached for Tilly’s hand under the table, fingers sliding easily into place.
Tilly squeezed back. No hesitation.
Jamie raised her glass again. “Okay. Fine. I’ll drink to that.”
They clinked glasses. The moment passed, folded gently into the rest of the night without needing to be named.
Savannah leaned back in her chair, listening to Jamie and Erin bicker about something inconsequential. She felt full in a way that had nothing to do with food.
She caught Tilly’s eye again.
Tilly smiled. Small. Certain.
Savannah smiled back.
No bracing.
No wondering if it would last.
Just the quiet confidence of choosing and being chosen, again and again.
When the night wound down and jackets were gathered, Jamie hugged Savannah tight.
“You good?” she asked softly.
Savannah nodded. “Yeah.”
And this time, it wasn’t something she had to convince herself of.
Tilly locked the door behind them after Jamie and Erin left. The apartment settled into quiet. Savannah leaned back against the counter, watching Tilly move through the space like it was theirs too.
Tilly glanced up. “What?”
Savannah smiled. “Nothing.”
She crossed the room and kissed them, slow and easy.
Savannah didn’t pull away right away.
Tilly’s hands rested easily at her waist, thumbs warm through the fabric of her hoodie. The kitchen light hummed overhead. The air still smelled like garlic and wine and something baked that Savannah couldn’t quite name but wanted to remember.
Tilly leaned their forehead against Savannah’s. “You okay?”
Savannah laughed softly. “I think so. You?”
Tilly’s mouth curved. “Yeah.”
They stayed there another beat before Savannah stepped back, just enough to breathe without bumping noses.
“You know,” Savannah said, tilting her head, “you could have waited at least until they left the apartment.”
Tilly winced, scrubbing a hand over the back of their neck. “In my defense, I wasn’t thinking.”
Savannah smiled. “That was obvious.”
Tilly glanced toward the living room, where Jamie’s laughter still echoed faintly in Savannah’s ears like it had soaked into the walls. “They’re never going to let me forget that.”
Savannah shrugged. “Jamie absolutely will. Erin might bring it up in six months, completely deadpan.”
Tilly snorted. “Great.”
Savannah reached for the wine bottle and topped off both their glasses, the small, ordinary motion grounding her again. She handed one to Tilly and clinked it lightly against theirs.
“To accidental confessions,” she said.
Tilly raised an eyebrow. “You started that trend.”
Savannah didn’t argue. She took a sip and leaned back against the counter, watching Tilly move around the kitchen, collecting plates, stacking them without rushing. There was no urgency now. No sense that the night needed to be preserved before it slipped away.
Tilly caught her staring.
“What?” they asked.
Savannah shook her head. “Nothing. I just keep… noticing.”
“Noticing what?”
“How quiet my brain is,” she said honestly. “Like it finally stopped narrating everything.”
Tilly paused, plate in hand, and looked at her. “That feels important.”
“It is,” Savannah said. “I used to think calm meant something bad was coming. Like I was missing a cue.”
“And now?”
Savannah considered it. “Now it just feels like dinner ended and our friends went home.”
Tilly smiled at that, small and private.
They finished tidying together, moving in the same rhythm without talking much. Savannah handed Tilly a towel. Tilly bumped her hip in thanks. Their shoulders brushed at the sink, and Savannah didn’t tense, didn’t wonder if it meant something else.
It meant exactly what it was.
When the kitchen was clean, Savannah flicked off the overhead light and left the lamp on instead. The apartment settled into a softer version of itself.
Tilly leaned back against the counter. “So,” they said. “You survived.”
Savannah laughed. “Barely.”
“I’m proud of you.”
Savannah felt that land somewhere deep. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Tilly said. “You stayed. You didn’t disappear.”
Savannah swallowed, throat tight, but this time it wasn’t panic. It was recognition.
“I wanted to,” she said. “I didn’t want to lose this. You.”
Tilly stepped closer, not rushing, not careful in the old way. Just sure.
“You don’t have to earn me,” they said quietly.
Savannah nodded. “I know.”
She believed it now.
They stood there a while longer, wrapped in the quiet, the night stretching ahead without pressure. No next crisis. No unspoken test.
Just tomorrow, waiting patiently.
Savannah leaned into Tilly’s shoulder, fitting easily there.
“Hey,” she said.
“Yeah?”
She smiled. “You really are lucky.”
Tilly laughed, warm and unguarded, and pressed a kiss into Savannah’s hair.
“Yeah,” they said. “I know.”
And Savannah did too.