So there I was, in the middle of the term, sneaking around with my phone like a convict smuggling contraband. Most nights, after lights out, I would lie under my blanket, my face illuminated by the faint blue glow of the screen. My hands shook with a mix of excitement and fear every time I typed. But the risk didn’t matter when I was talking to Nadia.
“Nights are so boring without you,” she messaged one evening.
“Yeah, mine too. But here I am, risking my life just to talk to you. You better feel special,” I joked.
“Haha, I do! But seriously, you’re not gonna get caught, right?”
“Never. I’m too smooth for that.”
It wasn’t true. I was anything but smooth. My heart would race every time I heard footsteps in the hallway, expecting a teacher or a prefect to burst in and catch me red-handed. But somehow, I managed to avoid detection. Every night, we’d talk for hours, and I’d wake up the next day with bloodshot eyes and a grin on my face.
Our conversations shifted from casual chats to something more personal, more intimate. She started asking about my life, my dreams, and, of course, my love life.
“So… have you ever had a girlfriend?” she asked one night, casually.
I stared at the screen, feeling my palms sweat. I hadn’t expected that question.
“Uh… kind of,” I typed, trying to play it cool.
“Kind of?”
“Well, I’ve liked people before, but nothing serious.”
“What about now? Do you like anyone?”
The question hung there for a moment, and I felt my chest tighten. I could hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.
“Maybe,” I replied, after what felt like an eternity.
“Oooh, who?”
“Well… she’s pretty amazing. Funny, smart, beautiful. We talk a lot. You might know her.”
There was a long pause before her next message came through.
“Is it… me?”
I could almost see her smiling through the phone.
“Maybe.”
“Haha, you’re cute. I like you too.”