hey sis!! I saw your last post on IG and I just wanted to check in... still just friends??

My last post on Instagram was Ace and me holding hands on top of his piano. I don’t see any way I can lie myself out of that.

With a sigh, I reply: a little more than friends...

Fatima’s reply is immediate. not to sound pessimistic but is this rlly the move, myra???

I wince. it’ll be okay but thank you for checking in!!! I hope things are going well w/ you! always rooting for you

Fatima’s response is slower this time, but when it comes, it settles in my chest heavily. I’m always rooting for you too!!! I just don’t know how long you can make this work I’m sorryyyy.

I don’t have anything to say to that. I have no idea how long I can make this work, either. I want it to last as long as possible, but I know as we keep moving forward, the riskier this becomes. If we’re together years from now, I will have to decide whether Ace is worth risking my family’s wrath. It’s inevitable.

And even though I’m terrified of that day, it’s not enough for me to give up on what we have together now.

For now, I’m willing to give this my all.

I want to believe I’m going to win in the end.

Samir and I part ways after he buys Jane Eyre and then chips in to buy me the young adult book I wanted, too. Maybe I can forgive him for being a nuisance.

I meet Ace at the aquarium and the entire time we’re in line for tickets, he playfully grumbles about how the zoo would be a better date.

His silly complaints do make me feel oddly better. I try not to think too much on why that is.

“Zoos smell,” I say, wrinkling my nose. “And these animals are in glass tanks so they can’t try to kill us.”

He sighs dramatically before resting his palm against my neck, a bright grin on his face. “I’ll stop complaining for a kiss.”

I shake my head at him. It feels like I’m in some ridiculous movie. Things like this don’t happen to girls like me. “You’re terrible,” I say but stretch onto my tiptoes to kiss him anyway. He tastes like mint chocolate ice cream and peppermint ChapStick, both of which are quickly becoming some of my favorite flavors.

When I pull away, there’s a warmth spreading through my chest, a small fire that roars with the heat of a million shooting stars. “Terrible,” I repeat and run away from him, toward the dolphin exhibit.

He laughs behind me. “Terribly infatuated with you, yes.”

We’re wandering aimlessly when I hear a familiar voice. “Can you stop being an asshole for two seconds?”