Just For Now

Naomi's POV My mom had that tone again. The one she used when she was trying not to panic, but already was. “Naomi,” she said gently from the doorway, “you’re moving out now. Off campus. Closer to school. Don’t you think it would be… nice to have someone?” I paused, one of my boxes half-taped, the cardboard pressing into my knee as I sat on the floor of my old room. The walls were still the same soft neutracolouror they’d always been, still holding versions of me I’d already grown past. “I have friends, Mom.” I said She leaned against the doorframe and sighed. Not annoyed. Worried. “I know you do. But you’ve always been quiet. You keep to yourself. I just don’t want you to end up alone.” Alone. That word landed heavier than it should have. I wasn’t antisocial. I wasn’t unhappy. I just liked my space. Observing more than talking, listening more than explaining myself. But to my mom, quiet looked like isolation. “And relationships in college aren’t something I’m rushing into,” I said carefully. “You know this.” “I do,” she replied quickly. “I’m not pushing. I just… worry.” That was the problem. I hated being the reason her voice softened like that. To me, relationships needed intention. Depth. Stability. College still felt unfinished - like a place where everything was temporary, including the people you thought you knew. Dating felt like trying to build something serious on shaky ground. She watched me for a moment longer, then nodded, as if filing my words away even though they hadn’t reassured her. I looked around the room and suddenly noticed all the little things I’d taken for granted: the faint scratch on my desk from one of my pens, the marks my shoes had left on the carpet, the corner of my bed where I’d sat late at night reading by my lamp light. This had been my safe little world, and soon, it would be gone. Moving off campus felt like stepping into an entirely new life, one where I’d be responsible for myself in ways I’d never fully been before. Boxes were stacked in haphazard towers around me, each taped-up cube holding part of my life. Clothes I barely wore, books I’d never read again, mugs from long-forgotten birthdays. Moving wasn’t just physical; it felt like I was shifting pieces of myself into a new container, hoping nothing would get lost along the way. I sank down on the floor and rested my head against one of the boxes. My mom’s worry lingered in the air like a faint scent, persistent, unavoidable. I hated that she was worrying so much, but I couldn’t blame her. I knew her fears were rooted in love, not control. Still, it made me feel… selfish for not giving her what she wanted. A notification buzzed on my phone. It was a message from Hannah. “Packing okay? Don’t forget the kettle. You’re going to survive the dorm-less life, I promise.” I smiled softly. Hannah always had a way of cutting through the anxiety, grounding me in simple truths. I’m going to survive, I thought. But something inside me whispered that surviving wasn’t the same as thriving. College was supposed to be about discovering yourself, about freedom. But moving off campus alone felt… lonely. Even with friends nearby, there was something quietly intimidating about being truly on your own. And that’s when it hit me: the solution, if it could even be called that, wasn’t just practical. It was ridiculous. Temporary. Fake. But it might work. And the only person it might actually work with was someone I already knew. Lucas wasn’t a stranger. He was just the guy whose apartment I was about to move into. The guy my best friend’s boyfriend used to live with. The guy I’d exchanged polite conversations with and never thought twice about. Yet somehow, the thought of him now felt heavier, more significant. I could imagine the apartment differently, shared routines I didn’t yet understand, silent moments stretched out between two people pretending. Pretending could be easier than explaining, easier than saying anything out loud that might get messy. Until now, I’d never considered the idea of deliberately leaning on someone else, even temporarily. And yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this fake arrangement might be the only way to quiet my mother’s worry without sacrificing my own principles. I pushed myself up from the floor and glanced at the window. The city outside was waking up — cars moving, streetlights flickering out, students hurrying to classes, life already spinning without me. Somehow, I had to find my place in that motion. Somehow, I had to carry myself into this new chapter with dignity, independence… and maybe, if the universe insisted, a little help from someone else. Lucas. The name lingered in my mind, unbidden but not unwelcome. Until now. I know what I have to do... I just hope he goes along with it.