Later that night, I couldn’t sit still. I tried watching TV, tried scrolling through my phone. Nothing stuck.

My brain kept looping the same thought:

You suck.

It wasn’t even the grade anymore. It was what it meant.

That maybe I’d always fall short.

That maybe I wasn’t enough, even when I tried.

So around nine, I left the house. Just started walking.

I told myself it was just a quick loop around the block, but I kept going.

The movement helped a little, but the spiraling didn’t stop.

Before I knew it, I was farther than I meant to be. And I didn’t know what else to do.

So I texted Chris.

Me: Hey. Are you still out?

He’d gone to dinner with his dad and his dad’s girlfriend.

Chris: No, I got home like half an hour ago. Why?

Me: I don’t know. I feel kinda weird. Went for a walk.

Chris: Is it about that stupid quiz?

Me: Maybe...

Chris: Wanna come over?

Me: Is that okay?

Chris: More time with my boyfriend? No, gross.

Me: I know, right?

I was already halfway there when I texted him.

Maybe part of me had already decided I needed to be near him.

I reached the porch just as the door opened.

Chris stood there in an oversized hoodie and socks.

Oh—and pants, of course.

“Did you just teleport here?”

“I was already halfway.” I gave a half-laugh, awkwardly.

Before I could say anything else, he hugged me. Tight.

I stiffened for a second—his dad’s car was in the driveway. Chris was always so careful.

But I needed that hug more than anything. So I held him. Let myself sink into him.

Just like that, everything eased. Like cold water on a burn.

He pulled back reluctantly.

“Isn’t your dad home?” I asked.

“Yeah. He’s taking a shower.”

“What if your neighbors—”

“You’re more important than that.”

God. How does he do that? How does he make me feel like I actually matter?

He leaned in and kissed me. It was quick, but it hit just the same.

“Do you wanna come in, or...?”

“Can we walk for a bit? Just a bit? I feel like I have too much energy stuck in me.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

He slipped on his shoes, grabbed the keys, and shut the door behind him.

We walked in silence. The kind that didn’t feel heavy. Just... waiting.

“My thoughts are a mess,” I said eventually. “Like I’m stuck in a loop. Same thoughts, over and over. And I don’t know... It’s hard to breathe.”

“Sounds like you’re close to an anxiety attack.”

“You think so?”

He nodded. “I would know.”

“I didn’t think I was that anxious. Just kind of an overthinker.”

“That’s all it takes sometimes. It doesn’t have to be constant to hit hard. Even people who ‘aren’t anxious’ can still have moments like this. It’s human.”

I let that sit for a second.

“Huh. So, how do you stop thinking about everything?”

“That’s the thing. You don’t.”

“Oh great. So I’m just broken.”

“Of course not.” He smiled softly. “Talking helps. Not to fix it. Just to unstick it from in here.”

He gently tapped my temple.

“Ugh. This sucks. It’s just... that fucking D really messed me up.”

“That’s what she said.”

I blinked—then laughed. Loud.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I had to get it out of the way. I think I’m spending too much time with you.”

“That’s okay. I’m proud of you,” I said, ruffling his hair.

He swatted my hand away. “Thanks, I guess?” He grinned. “Anyway, sorry. You were saying?”

“When I didn’t care, bad grades didn’t get to me. But now? I tried. And I still failed. I’m starting to think I’m just... dumb.”

“Do you really think I’d date a dumb guy?”

I shrugged. “Beats me.”

“Troy,” he said, serious now. “Things aren’t black and white. Trying doesn’t always mean A’s. And just because you struggled before doesn’t mean it’s permanent. Maybe you were tired. Maybe the quiz focused on stuff you found harder. That doesn’t make you dumb. Again, it just makes you human.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so.”

We’d made it back to his house by then. Sat on the porch steps, side by side.

“You always know what to say.”

“I’m just repeating what my therapist says. It’s way easier said than done.”

“Yeah...”

We sat there quietly, watching a snail slowly make its way across the pavement.

The snail didn’t care about grades. Or timing. It just kept going.

One slow inch at a time.

I wasn’t sure I’d ever move like that—unbothered.

But maybe I could start trying.

I’m so disgustingly in love that I’d rather sit watching a snail than be at a party, drunk and making out with someone I’ll regret.

I’m boring now. And it turns out that’s exactly what I needed.

This is my life now, and I love it.

“You know what?” Chris said quietly.

“Tell me.”

“When I was a kid, I kept pet snails and named them after planets.”

I laughed, because how couldn’t I?

“God, you’re such a dork. But that’s one of the many things I like about you.”

“If you think that’s weird... I’m saving the best ones for a rainy day.”

“Can’t wait.”

We chuckled.

And then it hit me.

I wanted to tell him I love him.

Just blurt it out.

But I didn’t.

I’ve wondered how you know when you love someone. Turns out, it’s not complicated at all.

You just do.

You know, I didn’t want to let go of that hug earlier. Not because I was falling apart, but because being near him—like that—was the only thing lately that made me feel whole. Safe. Like maybe I didn’t have to prove anything to be worth something.

Now the hard part is figuring out when to say it.

What if it’s too soon?

What if it freaks him out?

What if he doesn’t say it back?

Too many questions.

But at least I was thinking about love now, not a stupid quiz.

That’s progress.

“Do you feel better?”

“Yeah. Thanks for putting up with me.”

“You’re actually pretty easy to put up with,” he said, taking my hand and leaning gently on my shoulder.

“So... do you wanna stay over? We could finally do that horror movie marathon we always talk about but never actually do.”

“Hell yeah!”

Then he got serious. “I, uh... yesterday was awesome, by the way.”

I laughed under my breath. “I know, right? Sorry, it was all rushed and messy.”

“Don’t be. Really. It was perfect. I’m glad it just happened, you know? Thinking about it before was making me go crazy, you know? All the pressure and expectation.”

“I get it. Totally. And yeah, I agree. Actually... no, it wasn’t perfect.”

He pulled back a little, eyebrows knitting like he was trying to figure out if I’d just insulted him.

“It was such a mess, I can’t even remember half of it. Which means we need to try again. And again. And again... until we get it right.”

Chris laughed. Loud, warm, the kind that shakes through his shoulders. God, I love that laugh.

“You’re so full of shit, you know that? But... you got me there. I agree.”

“We could try again. Like, now.”

“Here? On the front porch?”

“Why not?”

He nudged me with his knee, grinning. “You’re insane.”

“Yeah. Crazy about you.”

That made him pause. Just for a second.
A small, quiet look.
His eyes softened, like he didn’t want me to see too much.
But I saw it.
And my chest went tight—in the best way.

Our first time... I knew it would be great. I mean, I wanted it for so long.
But I didn’t think it would change things between us.
I thought it would just be... a thing we did. Something good. Something hot.
But it did change things. In the best possible way.

I’ve never felt this close to anyone.
Not like this.

There’s a person—him—who I know so well.
Not everything, but enough.
Enough to recognize the laugh that only comes out after one of my dumb jokes.
The way his eyes go soft when I get sappy.
The quiet little sigh he makes when I hold him tighter than usual.
And now... the way he looks at me when I touch him.
The way his breathing changes.
The way he stays.

It’s everything.
And it scares the hell out of me.
But it’s also the first thing that’s ever felt safe.

“Ugh. I wish I could kiss you...” he murmured.

“Me too...”

He shivered, tugging at my sleeve like he didn’t want to let go. “Come on, let’s get inside. It’s freezing.”

“And make out in your room?”

“No way, we’re not alone, remember? I don’t wanna get caught.”

“You can’t blame me for trying.”

“Don’t worry,” he said with a smirk, brushing his thumb over my knuckles, slow and warm. “I don’t.”

A few minutes later, we were curled up on the couch with a bucket of popcorn between us.

Chris made it this time, so it was actually edible.

He kept throwing popcorn at me, trying to get one in my mouth. I think I caught two. The rest became floor decorations.

I laughed, swatted popcorn off my hoodie.

I think we’re getting too careless, but I don’t mind. We actually managed to sneak a few kisses. Nothing too heavy. We weren’t alone in the house, after all.

But the full-on makeout session? Definitely not tonight. Unfortunately.

I think we both passed out around 4 a.m., legs tangled up under the blanket, and popcorn still everywhere.

And yeah.

This is my almost-perfect, soft-edged, popcorn-stained life.

Note: 

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Six more episodes to go. 

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