By the third Sunday, the apartment had stopped feeling like a hiding place and started feeling like the only honest room we had.
Campus stayed a performance. I sat in the third row. He lectured. We passed each other in the quad once and he said Miss Cole in a voice so even I almost believed we were strangers. That night he made up for it with my wrists pinned to the mattress and his mouth on every place he couldn’t touch in public.
The semester did not wait for us to decide what we were.
In April, a junior in my seminar asked, too casually, why I was always on the English floor after hours. I laughed it off. My hands shook in my bag the rest of the day. That night I told Callum.
He was silent for a long time, standing at the apartment window with a glass he wasn’t drinking.
“We can st
