Your fork barely hits the plate before the questions begin.

“So.” Jules forward, wine glass in hand. “Who’s going to start talking first?”

Xavier glances at you, unbothered. You chew slowly. Try to play dumb. “About what?”

“Don’t do that,” she warns. “You made out on a picnic blanket and told us you’ve been dating for weeks.”

“Yeah,” someone else jumps in. “You said, quote, ‘she’s mine.’ That doesn’t sound new.”

Xavier just leans back, arm casually draped behind your chair. “Because it’s not.”

“How long, exactly?” your friend asks. “Like from when you first kissed or from when it got serious?”

You open your mouth—hesitate—then point at Xavier. “You answer.”

He grins. “She kissed me three months ago.”

You blink. “I kissed you?”

“On my birthday.”

You flush. “Okay that doesn’t count—”

“She kissed me,” he repeats smugly, sipping his drink.

Your friend’s jaw drops. “So you’ve been secretly in love for months?”

Xavier shrugs. “I wasn’t being very secret.”

Your friends immediately explode.

“Oh my- the beach trip—” “And the matching bracelets—” “The way he looked at you when you had food on your face—”

You’re covering your face with your hands. Xavier’s just chuckling beside you, not even remotely apologetic.

“She’s dramatic,” he tells them. “The first time we kissed, she wouldn’t even make eye contact for three days.”

“You were smirking every time I looked at you!”

“You were blushing.”

“You’re annoying.”

Your friends are dying. Solane nearly chokes on her drink. “Gosh, this is so romantic. I feel lied to but also honored.”

Jules solemnly. “You guys are disgusting. I love it.”