SIX WEEKS WITH HIM

The leak

*Monday. 9 AM. Campus w******p Group: KU Rugby Fans*

The message came through while I was in lectures.

_Dennis: Yo did you guys see Kip run onto the field for Kimani Saturday?_

along came a photo.

The photo was blurry, but it was us. Me kneeling beside Lucas in the tunnel, my hand on his back, his forehead against mine.

The comments exploded.

_“Since when are they that close??”_

_“Kip’s his physio tho right??”_

_“Naw bro that’s sus ”_

_“Kimani finally off the market ”_

By 10 AM, my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.

By 11 AM, I couldn’t concentrate in class.

By 1 PM, I was sitting in the physio room with the door closed, staring at the photo and trying not to panic.

Dr. Onyango walked in without knocking.

“Kip.”

I looked up.

“Explain,” she said, holding out her phone. The same photo.

I swallowed. “It was an MCL sprain. He went down in the game. I went on the field because I knew his history. It was clinical.”

“And the hand on his back? The foreheads?”

“I was checking his pupils,” I said. The lie tasted bitter. “Concussion protocol.”

Dr. Onyango stared at me for a long time.

“Kip, I like you,” she said finally. “You’re good at this job. But if this becomes a distraction, if it becomes a scandal, I can’t protect you.”

“I know,” I said.

“Is it a distraction?”

I didn’t answer.

She sighed. “I’ll handle the department. But you handle campus. Shut it down before it shuts you down.”

She left.

I sat there for 20 minutes before my phone buzzed again.

Lucas: _Meet me. Now. Back of the gym. I know you saw the photo._

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*Back of the Gym. 2 PM.*

Lucas was pacing when I got there.

“You saw it,” he said the second I appeared.

“Yeah.”

“Dennis sent it to the group,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I already talked to him. He won’t post it publicly, but the damage is done.”

“People are talking,” I said. “Dr. Onyango knows.”

“I know.” He stopped pacing and looked at me. “Kip, I’m done hiding.”

“What?”

“I’m done pretending this is just campus drama I can ignore,” he said. “If they want to talk, let them talk. I’m not losing you because of rumors.”

“You could lose more than me,” I said quietly. “Scholarship. Captaincy. Reputation.”

“So what?” he said. “What’s the point of all that if I can’t be with you?”

I stared at him.

“Lucas, we talked about this,” I said. “Quietly. Slowly.”

“And quietly and slowly got us caught,” he said. “I’m tired of living like I’m doing something wrong.”

“You’re not,” I said. “But the world thinks we are.”

“Then let them think,” he said. “I’m not hiding anymore.”

He stepped closer.

“Kip, look at me,” he said. “Do you want me to pretend? Do you want me to act like Saturday didn’t mean anything?”

I couldn’t lie.

“No,” I said.

“Then stop hiding with me.”

I opened my mouth to argue, to say something responsible, something safe.

But I was tired too. Tired of checking over my shoulder. Tired of lying to myself.

“Okay,” I said.

His eyes widened. “Okay?”

“Okay,” I repeated. “But if this blows up, we handle it together. No heroics.”

He smiled, slow and real.

“Deal.”

He didn’t kiss me. Not there. Not with the risk too high.

But he reached out and took my hand.

For the first time, I didn’t let go.

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