Moments Not Forgotten

Andrew had learned you in fragments. You were efficient, sharp, always pretending you weren’t exhausted. Somewhere between shared notes, late-night coffee runs, and sitting cross-legged on his apartment floor while the radiator rattled, you’d become familiar in a way that felt dangerous to name.

There had been moments. Knees brushing under library tables. You waiting for him after class like it was coincidence. The look you gave him once after he bombed a presentation—soft, private, meant only for him. None of it meant anything. That was the rule.

Now you were packed into Jonah’s living room, bodies draped over mismatched furniture. Jonah cut himself off mid-story and grinned. “So,” he said, eyes bouncing between Andrew and you, “are you two ever gonna admit whatever this is?”

Andrew felt his stomach drop. “What?” he said too fast. “There’s nothing.”

Maya laughed. “You sit next to each other every time. Like assigned seats.”

Eli snorted from the floor and Serena chuckled. “It’s actually painful to watch,” he commented.

You shook your head, that fake, nervous smile snapping into place. “We’re just friends.”

“Exactly,” Andrew said, nodding like conviction could be faked. “Friends.”

Jonah lifted his hands, unconvinced. “Sure.”