A Little Bit Possessive (And Knowing It)

February came. With it came Seo-jun.

Seo-jun was a friend of a friend who appeared at a department gathering and immediately attached himself to Maya's side for the entire evening. He was handsome and easy to talk to and laughed at everything she said, and Maya was politely friendly and secretly a little uncomfortable about the way Daniel had gone very still across the room when Seo-jun leaned in to say something in her ear.

She saw it from the corner of her eye — that stillness. The way Daniel picked up his drink and didn't put it down for a long time.

She should not have found it as affecting as she did.

✦ ✦ ✦

Daniel texted her that night at eleven.

His: Is he someone I should know about?

She stared at it. Her pulse did something embarrassing.

Her: That depends. Are you asking as my friend?

A minute passed. Then: No. I'm not asking as your friend.

Maya sat up in bed. Her hands were not entirely steady. She typed: Then no. He's nobody.

His reply came immediately: Good.

Just that word. Good. And then, after a moment: Sorry. I know that's not fair to say.

She almost typed: It's okay. She stopped herself. She typed instead: Why isn't it fair?

A longer pause this time. She watched the typing indicator appear, disappear, appear again.

Then: Because I haven't told you yet. The things I want to tell you. And until I do, I don't have the right to be — like this.

Maya read it twice. Three times.

Then she typed: Daniel. When do you want to tell me?

His answer was almost instant: Can I call you?

Her heart was very loud now. She typed: Yes.

Her phone rang ten seconds later.

✦ ✦ ✦

His voice on the phone was the same as it always was — low and even — except for a careful quality she'd never heard in it before, like he was carrying something gently.

"I've liked you since before you spilled coffee on me," he said without preamble. "I noticed you for months before that. I just — didn't know how to be someone who walked up to a stranger on a bus and said something."

She exhaled slowly. "How long?"

"Eight months." A beat. "Approximately."

Eight months. She did the math. That was before she'd even started her ninety-three days. That was — that was almost from the beginning.

"Daniel," she started.

"You don't have to say anything," he said quickly. "I'm not trying to pressure you into — I just needed to say it. Properly. Because watching Seo-jun lean over to talk to you tonight made me realize I'd been half-saying things for too long."

She was quiet. In the best way.

"I have liked you," she said carefully, "for ninety-three days."

A pause. Then his voice, softer: "What happened ninety-three days ago?"

"I made a rule. Never look at the last seat on the bus."

He let out a breath that was almost a laugh. "Maya."

"I know," she said. "I'm ridiculous."

"No," he said. "You're careful. There's a difference." His voice was warm now, the careful quality gone. "Can I take you to dinner? Properly. Not just coffee."

She was smiling and she could not stop. Yes, she said. Properly.

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