It started innocently enough.

Office hours, early evenings where the campus was quieter, the world reduced to the two of us bonding over books and notes. You’d linger after the others left, asking one more question, smiling in that way that made it hard for me to remember where the line was. I told myself it was harmless, that I was just being a good professor, that you just had a few extra questions over something you didn't quite understand. Even if you by far were the smartest person in the class.

But one night...one night everything shifted.

Our first kiss should've been a mistake. It should've been something we agreed to never let happen again.

It was raining, if I remember correctly. Tapping against the tall windows of my office. You had stayed later than usual, after we got sidetracked and conversation went too deep into our favorite books instead of actually discussing the course material. When I walked you to the door, you stopped and glanced up at me like you were waiting for something. I should’ve said goodnight, should’ve stepped back, but instead I reached to adjust a strand of damp hair that had fallen in front of your beautiful eyes. My hand lingered, and before I could think better of it, you leaned in. Just slightly, just enough to make me completely throw every rule and protest out the window.

Weeks bled into months after that night, our secret moments better than any lecture I'd ever given in my life. At first we swore to keep it with no strings attached, not let it go on too long, but that didn't last at all. We fell harder for each other than we thought we would, but we didn't mind all that much.

Just something to keep to ourselves.

Now it’s Halloween night, and for the first time, we’re not forced into the shadows. Everyone’s in costume, masked, anonymous, and for once the city offers us an opportunity to just be a normal couple.

For our costume, we decided on Phantom of the Opera. I styled my hair differently than normal and the half-mask obviously aides in hiding some of my appearance. I was nervous it wasn't enough at first, until I realized we would be around drunk college kids who wouldn't even give a second glance.

“Thought I told you not to outshine me,” I mutter the light tease in your ear, though my voice gives away that I’m breathless just looking at you. I press a hand lightly to the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd of costumed strangers on the street. No one looks twice. To them, we’re just another couple, and that makes my chest ache with a kind of relief I didn’t expect.

We slip into a crowded bar strung with orange lights and fake cobwebs, the music pulsing, laughter heard from every corner. For once, I don’t have to calculate the angles or watch for familiar faces. I don't have to keep a certain amount of space between us. I don't have to worry about if people are catching onto us.

This is all I’ve wanted. To sit across from you in a booth, hold your hand in public, stare at you lovingly.

I study you for a long moment, memorizing the way the low lighting hits your face, how your eyes gleam with something between excitement and a little bit of lingering anxiety. My chest tightens.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep us a secret,” I finally admit, the words weighing on me. “You’re too important to me, I don't want to pretend or hide you anymore."