Just For Now

CHAPTER TWO - The Proposal

Naomi's POV

By the end of the week, the apartment no longer felt like a stranger’s place.

I stood in front of the mirror, tugging lightly at the hem of my top, adjusting it for the third time even though nothing was wrong with it. My reflection looked back at me, eyes alert, posture stiff, like I was bracing myself for something I couldn’t see yet.

Two days.

That was all it had taken.

The first day had been awkward-unpacking boxes, polite conversations, both of us pretending not to notice how strange it was to suddenly share a space with someone we barely knew. The second day had been quieter. Easier. We’d settled into a rhythm without discussing it. Separate mornings. Shared evenings. Respectful distance.

His shoes were by the door now, always placed neatly side by side. His mug sat on the counter, dark blue with a small chip on the rim. I’d washed it the night before and remembered thinking how natural it felt to do something so domestic in a space that wasn’t really mine.

I exhaled slowly.

Ask him today.

The thought had been following me since I woke up. I couldn’t keep circling around it, pretending the idea would disappear if I ignored it long enough. It wouldn’t.

Today was the day.

Not the day everything changed. Just the day I finally said the words out loud.

I grabbed my bag and checked the time. If I didn’t leave now, I’d be late for class, and being late would give me another excuse to delay everything. I wasn’t doing that.

As I stepped out of the apartment, I paused briefly outside his door.

Closed.

I didn’t knock. This wasn’t about him yet. This was about me finding the courage to stop overthinking.

After classes, I decided.

When we’re both back. When things are calm.

Campus was already alive when I arrived-students clustered in groups, voices overlapping, laughter drifting through the air. Normally, I blended into it easily. Today, every step felt deliberate, like I was counting down to something invisible.

I sat through lectures with my notebook open, pen moving, but my thoughts weren’t really there. I kept rehearsing the conversation in my head, testing different versions of the same sentence.

It’s temporary.

It’s practical.

It won’t change anything between us.

By the time my last class ended, I was mentally exhausted.

All I could think about was going home.

Lucas' POV

I’d perfected the art of polite escape.

It wasn’t something I was proud of, but it was necessary. Smile just enough. Answer without committing. Walk fast enough that conversations couldn’t dig their claws too deep.

“Lucas.”

I pretended not to hear it.

“Lucas,wait.”

I sighed inwardly and slowed my pace, adjusting the strap of my backpack as I turned around. Tessa caught up to me, slightly out of breath but smiling like she hadn’t just chased me halfway across campus.

“You walk like you’re always late,” she said.

“I usually am,” I replied.

That wasn’t a lie. It was just selective honesty.

She fell into step beside me anyway.

We had a course together, General Psychology-one of those compulsory classes everyone complained about but secretly stressed over. Somewhere along the line, casual group discussions had turned into one-on-one conversations. Questions about assignments had become jokes. Jokes had turned into expectations.

“I was thinking,” she said, carefully casual, “maybe we could grab coffee sometime. Talk about the psych test coming up. I feel like I understand things better when we discuss them.”

I already knew where this was going.

“I’ve got practice most evenings,” I said. The excuse came easily now.

“That’s fine,” she replied quickly. “What about mornings?”

“Mornings are packed, too.”

She hesitated, then tried again. “Weekends?”

I stopped walking.

Not abruptly—just enough to make it clear I wasn’t brushing her off without thought.

“I don’t really have a lot of free time these days,” I said.

She nodded, but her smile slipped just a little. Not enough to be dramatic. Just enough to make me feel like the bad guy.

“I understand,” she said softly. “I just thought… we talk a lot.”

That was exactly the problem.

I didn’t want a relationship. Not with her. Not with anyone. Not because I was broken or scared or waiting for something better. I just didn’t want the responsibility of someone else’s expectations sitting on my shoulders.

But saying I don’t want a relationship always sounded harsher out loud than it felt in my head.

“Maybe later in the semester when my days are not so packed,” I said, because later felt safer than no.

Her face brightened immediately.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll remind you. See you later”

And just like that, she was gone—hope intact, expectations postponed, and the problem still very much alive.

I exhaled slowly and kept walking.

This wasn’t the first time.

It was always like this—polite interest, gentle persistence, and me stuck trying to find a reason that sounded reasonable enough to end things before they started.

By the time my last class ended, my head was pounding.

All I wanted was to go home.

When I unlocked the apartment door, the first thing that hit me wasn’t silence.

It was the smell of food.

“Hey,” Naomi said from the kitchen, turning around quickly. “You’re back.”

“Yeah.”

She looked settled. Comfortable. Like she already belonged there. Sleeves rolled up, hair pulled back loosely, moving around the kitchen like it was second nature.

“I ordered dinner,” she said. “I wasn’t sure when you’d be back.”

“That’s fine,” I replied. “Thanks.”

We ate together at the small table, conversation light and careful. Classes. Schedules. Nothing that required too much honesty.

But I noticed something.

She was quieter than usual.

Not awkward. Just focused. Like she had something prepared and was waiting for the right moment to say it.

When we finished eating, she didn’t stand immediately. She folded her hands together instead.

“Lucas,” she said.

I looked up.

“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

My chest tightened slightly.

“Okay.”

She took a breath. “I didn’t want to bring this up immediately after moving in. I wanted us to settle first.”

I stayed silent, letting her continue.

“But now that things feel a bit normal,” she said, “I think it’s better to be honest.”

Her eyes dropped to the table briefly before lifting again.

“I was wondering if you’d consider pretending to be in a relationship with me.”

The words didn’t register immediately.

A fake relationship?

With her?

My thoughts stalled, colliding with everything I’d been trying to avoid. I stared at the table, then back at her face, half-expecting her to laugh and tell me she was joking.

She wasn’t.

“Just temporarily,” she added quickly. “Just until things calm down. I wouldn’t cross any boundaries. I promise.”

I lifted a hand slightly, not to stop her, but because I needed a moment to breathe.

I said nothing.

She waited, shoulders tense, bracing herself.

I leaned back in my chair, my heart beating faster than it should have.

And the silence stretched between us.