The Morning After Realization
Lena woke to the sound of her cat, Mr. Puddles, yowling directly into her ear. Sunlight streamed through the gap in her curtains, painting a bright stripe across her tangled sheets. Her phone was still clutched in her hand, the screen dark.
She unlocked it.
The last message from Daniel stared back at her:
"On it. Will report back from the hospital after they stab me."
Lena groaned and buried her face in her pillow. What the hell was wrong with her? She didn't do crushes. Crushes were for people who believed in grand gestures and handwritten love letters—not for cynical twenty-six-year-olds who still hadn't figured out how to assemble IKEA furniture without swearing or falling in love with someone over memes.
Mr. Puddles headbutted her elbow, demanding breakfast.
"Fine, fine," she muttered, rolling out of bed. Her reflection in the bathroom mirror was a disaster—messy dark hair, a crease from her pillow still pressed into her cheek. She splashed cold water on her face.
It's just a stupid crush, she told herself. It'll pass.
Her phone buzzed from the other room.
She nearly tripped over her own feet getting back to it.
2. The Slow Descent Into Madness
Daniel (9:14 AM):Update: I chickened out. But I did make intense eye contact until they noticed and flipped the book right side up. I'm calling it a win.
Lena bit her lip to keep from smiling.
Lena (9:16 AM):Coward.
Daniel (9:16 AM):You're not wrong. Also, good morning. Did you know your voice is extra grumpy when you first wake up?
She froze.
Lena (9:17 AM):Excuse me?
Daniel (9:17 AM):You left me a voice memo last night at like 1 AM. You said, and I quote, "If I have to hear one more person misuse the word 'literally,' I'm going to literally commit a crime." You sounded like you were about to murder a dictionary.
Oh.
Oh God.
She had sent that. A murder threat. To grammar.
Lena (9:18 AM):I was sleep-typing. It doesn't count.
Daniel (9:18 AM):Uh-huh. Sure. Anyway, what's your schedule like today? I need someone to judge my life choices.
Lena hesitated.
Lena (9:20 AM):Depends. Are these life choices illegal or just stupid?
Daniel (9:20 AM):Yes.
3. The First Almost-Fight
They video-called that evening. Daniel was sitting on what appeared to be his fire escape, a half-eaten burrito in one hand. The city lights blurred behind him—neon and motion.
"So," he said, "I may have done a thing."
Lena narrowed her eyes. "What kind of thing?"
He took a dramatic bite of his burrito, chewed, then said, "I signed up for a pottery class."
She blinked. "What?"
"I know, I know. But hear me out—"
"No, wait. Back up. Why?"
Daniel shrugged. "I was walking past the community center, saw the sign, and just… did it."
Lena stared at him. "That's the dumbest impulse decision I've ever heard."
"Wow, rude."
"You're going to be adorably terrible at pottery."
He grinned. "Adorably? Bold of you to assume."
She flushed. "I meant terrible. Just terrible."
"Probably," he said cheerfully. "But imagine how funny it'll be when I accidentally make a bowl that looks like a sad potato."
Lena opened her mouth to argue, then stopped.
Because he was grinning at her—bright-eyed and unrepentant—and something in her chest did a stupid little flip.
She looked away first.
4. The Late-Night Confession
Daniel (2:03 AM):You awake?
Lena was. She'd been staring at the ceiling for an hour, trying to convince herself she wasn't waiting for his message.
Lena (2:04 AM):Unfortunately.
Daniel (2:04 AM):Cool cool cool. So. Hypothetically. If someone maybe sorta kinda liked you… how would you want them to tell you?
Lena's breath caught.
No. No no no.
This was not happening.
She typed three different responses, deleted them all, then settled on:
Lena (2:07 AM):Hypothetically? I'd want them to… probably not. It's better that way.
A pause.
Daniel (2:08 AM):…Ah.
Lena (2:08 AM):It's not—it's not personal. I just don't do relationships.
Another pause. Longer this time.
Daniel (2:11 AM):Got it. No worries. Forget I asked.
Lena's stomach twisted.
She hated this. Not just the conversation, but the way he made her feel. Like she was balancing on the edge of something soft and terrifying.
She stared at her screen until her eyes burned.
5. The Morning After the Almost-Fight
Lena woke up to seven missed messages.
The first six were memes. The seventh said:
"So. About last night. I'm not great at pretending things didn't happen, but I am great at respecting boundaries. So. Boundaries?"
Lena exhaled.
Lena (10:15 AM):Boundaries.
Daniel (10:15 AM):Cool. Can we still argue about books and send each other terrible memes?
Lena (10:16 AM):Obviously.
Daniel (10:16 AM):And can I still tell you about my pottery disasters?
Lena (10:17 AM):Only if you send pictures.
Daniel (10:17 AM):Deal.
A beat.
Daniel (10:18 AM):For the record, I would make a terrible boyfriend. I eat cereal dry and I have strong opinions about socks.
Lena laughed despite herself.
Lena (10:19 AM):Noted.
6. The Realization, Part Two
That night, Lena lay in bed, staring at her ceiling.
She'd spent the entire day replaying that conversation in her head. The way Daniel had backed off the moment she said no. The way he'd listened.
Most guys didn't.
Her phone buzzed.
Daniel (11:42 PM):Update: I made a mug. It looks like a depressed eggplant. I'm naming it after my ex.
Lena smiled.
And then, because she was an idiot—or maybe because she wasn't—she typed:
Lena (11:43 PM):You're ridiculous.
Daniel (11:43 PM):You love it.
She didn't correct him.