I think the week before Finals week turns the entire campus into a hostage situation.

Nobody is sleeping.

Nobody is happy.

Everyone smells vaguely like coffee and bad decisions.

The fraternity house somehow becomes even worse.

Guys are sleeping in random locations.

Textbooks cover every flat surface.

Someone created an elaborate color-coded study schedule taped to the kitchen wall.

It was me.

Nobody follows it.

Not even once.

The good news is Jesse and I are mostly back to normal.

The bad news is Jesse and I are mostly back to normal.

The rules still exist.

Technically.

But they're less emergency legislation and more established case law at this point.

Nobody mentions them anymore.

Not even Jesse.

Especially not Jesse.

Things just...work.

Again.

I steal his hoodies.

He steals my snacks.

I steal his fries.

He steals my highlighters.

Life continues.

Unfortunately my feelings continue too.

Because now Jesse isn't leaving.

Not really.

Not permanently.

He's staying for grad school.

Which should make me feel better.

Instead it feels like somebody handed me a loaded weapon and told me to relax.

"You're staring."

I look up.

Jesse sits across from me at his desk.

Anatomy notes spread everywhere.

I immediately look back down.

"I was studying."

"You were looking directly at me."

"Maybe you're educational."

His mouth twitches.

Victory.

Small victory.

But still.

Victory.

For a minute the only sounds in the room are pages turning and the distant sound of somebody downstairs failing a beer pong shot.

Then Jesse tosses a pen onto his notebook.

"You know what sucks?"

I don't even look up.

"This could be about literally anything."

"Fair point."

"What is it?"

"Housing."

That gets my attention.

I look up.

"Housing?"

"Yeah."

He leans back in his chair.

"Where are you living next year?"

The question catches me off guard.

Because honestly?

I don't know.

Not really.

I've spent so much time worrying about Jesse graduating that I somehow forgot I also needed a plan.

I shrug.

"Somewhere."

Jesse stares.

"That's not a plan."

"It's a concept."

"A terrible concept."

"Future Mia handles future problems."

"Future Mia is going to end up living in a Honda Civic."

"Bold of you to assume I can afford a Honda Civic."

"That's actually fair."

I smile despite myself.

Then shrug again.

"I figured I'd stay with Priya."

Jesse gives me a look.

"Priya's moving in with Kyle."

My stomach drops.

Right.

She is.

Which means I actually need a plan.

"Huh."

"Huh?"

"I hadn't really thought about it."

Jesse stares harder.

"Mia."

"What?"

"You didn't think about where you're living next year?"

"I've been a little... distracted."

"By what?"

I gesture vaguely around myself.

"The ongoing collapse of my emotional wellbeing."

"Fair point."

The conversation should end there.

It doesn't.

A minute later Jesse says:

"You could live with us."

My brain immediately exits my body.

"What?"

He doesn't even look up from his notes.

"You could live with us."

"What do you mean us?"

"Me and Corey."

Still writing.

Still studying.

Still acting like he hasn't detonated a bomb in the middle of the room.

I stare.

Waiting.

Eventually he notices.

Looks up.

"What?"

"WHAT?"

"There it is."

"Jess."

"What?"

"You just invited me to live with you."

His eyebrows pull together.

Confused.

Genuinely confused.

Like this isn't a life-altering statement.

Like he's asking if I want mozzarella sticks.

"I invited you to be a roommate."

"THAT IS LIVING TOGETHER."

"That's generally how roommates work."

I hate him.

I really do.

Jesse laughs softly.

Then goes back to studying.

Which makes it worse.

Because he's serious.

Actually serious.

Not joking.

Not flirting.

Serious.

I stare at him.

Trying to determine whether he's lost his mind.

Or if I've lost mine.

Possibly both.

"You'd have your own room."

"Oh wow. How generous."

"Mia."

"Jess."

"You know what I mean."

Unfortunately.

I do.

The room falls quiet again.

Just pages turning.

Pens scratching.

The hum of the old radiator.

Then:

"Seriously."

The word is softer this time.

I look up.

Jesse shrugs.

Suddenly awkward.

Which is rare enough to be concerning.

"I just figured it'd make sense."

There it is.

The sentence.

The one that gets me.

Because Jesse says practical things when he means emotional things.

Always has.

It'd make sense.

Translation:

I want you there.

I swallow hard.

Trying not to overthink it.

Immediately overthinking it.

"Why?"

The question slips out before I can stop it.

Jesse looks surprised.

"Why what?"

"Why me?"

He stares.

Actually stares.

Like the answer is obvious.

Like I've somehow missed something important.

Then:

"Because you're there anyway."

Direct hit.

My heart immediately commits several crimes.

He keeps going.

Unaware of the casualties.

"We study together."

Another hit.

"You get along with everybody."

Another.

"You're basically family."

Nuclear weapon.

I look away first.

Because that one hurts.

Not bad hurt.

Dangerous hurt.

The kind that sneaks up on you.

Jesse finally notices something is wrong.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You got weird."

"I've always been weird."

"Different weird."

Traitor.

He knows all my weirds.

I hate that.

Before I can answer, the door swings open.

Corey appears carrying three energy drinks and what appears to be an entire rotisserie chicken.

Nobody asks.

Some questions create more problems than answers.

"You look upset," Corey says.

"I'm not upset."

"You look like somebody told you Santa isn't real."

I point at Jesse.

"He invited me to live with you."

Corey blinks.

Then:

"Oh."

"OH?"

"Yeah."

I look between them slowly.

Suspiciously.

"You knew about this."

Corey immediately points at Jesse.

"His idea."

Jesse shrugs.

Corey continues.

"We've been looking at apartments."

"We?"

"The adults in the room."

Rude.

Then Corey says the worst thing imaginable.

Completely casually.

Without warning.

Like the menace he is.

"You practically live here already."

I hate when everyone agrees with Jesse.

It's very inconvenient.

By the time I make it back to my dorm that night my brain hurts.

Not from finals.

From Jesse.

Which is unfortunately a recurring medical condition.

Priya is sitting on her bed surrounded by moving boxes.

I forgot.

Again.

She's actually leaving.

The room already looks different.

Less ours.

More temporary.

She takes one look at my face.

"Oh no."

"What?"

"You have Jesse-face."

"I don't have a Jesse-face."

"You absolutely have a Jesse-face."

I throw a sock at her.

She catches it.

"What happened?"

I sit heavily on my bed.

Then:

"Jesse asked me to move in with him."

Silence.

Long silence.

Then:

"That's a sentence."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Neither of us speaks for a second.

Then:

"Well?"

I stare at the ceiling.

"Well what?"

"Are you going to?"

"I don't know."

And that's the truth.

The terrifying truth.

Because for months I prepared myself for Jesse leaving.

I grieved it.

Accepted it.

Built rules around it.

Made peace with it.

Now suddenly he's talking about apartments.

Next year.

Furniture.

Utilities.

The future.

Like I'm automatically included.

Like it's obvious.

Priya watches me carefully.

Then quietly:

"You know what's weird?"

"No."

"For months you were terrified Jesse was leaving."

I close my eyes.

Because I know exactly where this is going.

"Priya."

"And now he's planning a future with you in it."

I groan immediately.

"No."

"And you're just as scared."

I pull a pillow over my face.

Because the worst part?

She's right.

Of course she's right.

She's always right.

It's deeply annoying.

Later that night I lie awake staring at the ceiling.

Finals forgotten.

Housing forgotten.

Everything forgotten except one stupid sentence.

It'd make sense.

The problem is:

It does make sense.

That's what scares me.

Because for the first time since graduation started looming over us, I'm not imagining a future without Jesse in it.

I'm imagining one with him.

And that is infinitely more dangerous.