Alex is halfway through pouring cereal—shirt inside out, hair still sleep-mussed—when the front door opens.
We both freeze.
Footsteps. Multiple.
Alex stiffens beside me. "Tell me that's a ghost."
"It's worse," I whisper as Camila's voice echoes from the hallway.
"Oh, hell no," he mutters, and we both scramble like we've just been caught doing something illegal—which, technically, we haven't, but still. The energy is guilty adjacent.
Camila strides into the kitchen like she owns the place. Lucas trails behind her, wearing a hoodie that might actually belong to Alex, judging by how tight the sleeves are.
"Oh, Camila," I say, trying to sound casual as I awkwardly push a spoon into an empty bowl. "Why are you here… so early?"
She raises a brow. "Why are you trying to pretend you didn't just flinch when I walked in?"
Alex leans back against the counter, arms folded, smile strained. "Yeah, Lucas, I thought you were heading back to uni today?"
"Tomorrow morning," he says, eyeing both of us like we're rats caught in a snack drawer. "Got time."
Camila drops her bag on the counter with a definitive thud.
"Mm-hmm," she says. "And lucky for you both, so do we."
There's a moment of silence.
I inch toward the bag, lifting the flap like I've got every right. "Do you still keep gum in here?"
Camila doesn't blink. "If you're trying to distract me with a minty detour, you're five years too late."
"I just like the watermelon kind," I mumble, already digging around. "You usually have—oh god, what is this?" I pull out what might be a melted protein bar fused to a receipt and a pen cap.
She snatches the bag back. "Get out of there, raccoon boy."
Alex gives me a look. I give him the same one right back. The we are so screwed look.
Then Camila claps her hands once, like she's about to start a class presentation. "Living room. Chop-chop."
"Can't we just—"
"No," she says.
Lucas tilts his head toward the door. "Let's go."
"This feels like a trap," I mutter, grabbing my cereal and sighing as Alex and I are herded like sheep down the hall.
We get situated on the couch. Camila and Lucas sit across from us, arms crossed, twin expressions of don't even try us. It's terrifying.
Alex leans in close and whispers, "Are they about to give us the birds and the bees talk?"
"I think this is worse," I whisper back. "They're about to give us the feelings talk."
Camila clears her throat.
Lucas sits forward.
And just like that, it begins.
Camila clears her throat.
Lucas sits forward.
And just like that, it begins.
"Look," Camila starts, "you two clearly have something going on. And while I'm thrilled you finally stopped orbiting each other like confused satellites, we figured it's time for a… check-in."
"A what?" I blink.
"A relationship tune-up," Lucas says. "Preventative maintenance. Before the crash."
"We're literally two days in," Alex mutters. "There's barely even a steering wheel."
"Exactly," Camila says. "Which is why it's the perfect time to set some rules. Expectations. Boundaries. Basic communication skills."
I blink again. "Did you print an agenda for this?"
"No," she says, "but I could've. And don't tempt me."
Lucas runs a hand through his hair. "We're not trying to embarrass you."
Camila cuts in: "We are trying to stop you from crashing and burning because you're both emotionally constipated."
"Wow," Alex mutters.
"You're welcome."
Lucas exhales. "Okay, first question. Have you two actually talked about what this is?"
Alex and I glance at each other. I try not to visibly short-circuit.
"I mean," I start, "we've… acknowledged there's a thing."
"A thing," Camila echoes.
"Yeah, a… thing," Alex adds.
Lucas facepalms.
Camila squints at us like we're science experiments that just failed their hypothesis.
"Okay," she says slowly. "Let's simplify. Do you like each other?"
Alex shrugs. "Obviously."
"Cool," I say. "Yeah."
"Great," she says brightly. "Now say it to each other."
Silence.
Alex looks at me. I look at him.
"Seriously?" I say.
Lucas gestures like, get on with it.
Alex sighs, then turns fully toward me. "I like you."
My face warms instantly. "I like you too."
Camila claps. "See? That wasn't so hard. Now do that often."
Lucas nods. "Communicate. Set boundaries. Talk about stuff before it festers."
"Like bathroom stuff," Camila adds helpfully. "Toothbrush territory, shower schedules, whether it's okay to pee while the other person is in the room—"
"CAMI."
"Hey, it comes up!"
Lucas raises a brow. "Also: don't assume the other person just knows what you're thinking. That's how things get messy."
Camila leans forward again. "If something's wrong—say it. If you're unsure—say it. If you need space or affection or a literal sign from God—say it. Got it?"
Alex glances at me and nods. "Got it."
"Yeah," I say softly. "We got it."
Camila leans back, satisfied. "Good. And remember: just because you're scared doesn't mean you're not ready. It just means you care."
Lucas stands. "We'll leave you alone now. But if I find anyone crying in the bathroom again, I'm charging for emotional labor."
"Wait, what?" Alex frowns. "Again?"
"Bye!" Camila calls cheerfully, dragging Lucas away.
Once they're gone, the room feels way too quiet. But not bad quiet.
Alex looks at me. "So… love languages?"
I laugh. "Bathroom boundaries?"
He grins. "Definitely not peeing while you're in the room."
"Agreed."
We sit there for a second, just letting the awkward melt into something easy.
Maybe they're right. Maybe this can work.
And if we crash?
At least we're learning how to fly first.