Three Months of Perfect

Chapter 4: Three Months of Perfect It's been three months since I first matched with A.H., and I'm completely addicted to him. I woke up to his messages. I fell asleep texting him. We talk about everything: books, dreams, fears, stupid jokes that make me laugh out loud in public like a crazy person. He's become the best part of my day, the person I want to tell everything to, the voice in my head when I need advice or comfort or just someone who gets me. Sophie says I'm obsessed. She's probably right. It's a Friday afternoon, and I'm in my apartment, supposedly working on my contest essay. The deadline is in two weeks, and I've rewritten the introduction at least fifteen times. But I can't focus because my phone keeps buzzing with messages from A.H. **A.H.:** *Question: if you could live in any literary world, which one would you choose?* **Me:** *That's impossible to answer. There are too many options.* **A.H.:** *Come on. First instinct. Don't overthink it.* **Me:** *Fine. Pride and Prejudice. But only if I get to be Elizabeth Bennet.* **A.H.:** *Interesting. So you want the witty banter and the brooding love interest?* **Me:** *I want someone who challenges me. Who sees past the surface. Who makes me better just by being around them.* **A.H.:** *That's what you deserve, E.* My heart does that stupid flutter thing again. He's been doing this more lately saying things that feel like more than just friendly conversation. Things that make me wonder if he feels what I'm feeling. **Me:** *What about you? What literary world would you choose?* **A.H.:** *Honestly? I'd choose whichever one you're in.* I stare at my phone, my cheeks heating up. That was... that was definitely flirting. Real flirting. **Me:** *That's cheesy.* **A.H.:** *But it's true.* **Me:** *You're being very bold today.* **A.H.:** *I've been thinking a lot lately. About what I want. About being honest about it.* **Me:** *And what do you want?* There's a pause. The typing indicator appears and disappears several times. Finally, a message comes through. **A.H.:** *You. I want you, E. I know we haven't met yet, but I can't stop thinking about you. About us.* My breath catches. This is the most direct he's ever been. **Me:** *We've never even seen each other's faces. Not really.* **A.H.:** *Doesn't change how I feel.* **Me:** *How can you be sure? What if we meet and there's nothing there?* **A.H.:** *That's not going to happen. When you know, you know.* I'm sitting on my bed now, phone clutched in both hands, heart racing. This is real. Whatever this is between us, it's becoming something I can't ignore anymore. **Me:** *I want to meet you. Soon. I need to know if this is real.* **A.H.:** *It is real. I promise you that.* **Me:** *Then why won't you meet me? It's been three months, A.H. I'm starting to think you're hiding something.* Another long pause. **A.H.:** *I'm not hiding anything bad. I'm not married or in another relationship. I swear. It's just... complicated. There's something about my situation that I need to explain to you in person. Something important.* **Me:** *What could be so complicated that you can't just tell me?* **A.H.:** *Trust me, E. Please. Just a little longer. I'm working on it. I promise.* I want to be angry. I want to tell him that three months is long enough, that if he really wanted to meet me, he'd figure it out. But there's something in his messages that feels genuine. Like he's struggling with this as much as I am. **Me:** *Okay. But the clock is ticking. I can't keep doing this forever.* **A.H.:** *I know. And I won't ask you to. Soon, E. Very soon.* Next Monday, I have Adrian's seminar again. It's become this weird highlight of my week, even though he still drives me crazy half the time. I walk into the classroom a few minutes early, coffee in hand, and take my usual seat. A few other students are already there, including Vanessa, who gives me a cold look before turning back to her laptop. Ever since the contest nomination, Vanessa has been even worse. She makes snide comments during seminars, questions my sources, and generally tries to undermine everything I say. It's exhausting. Adrian walks in at exactly nine o'clock, as always. Today he's wearing a dark gray shirt that makes his eyes look even more intense, and I hate that I notice. "Good morning," he says, setting his bag down. "Let's talk about narrative perspective and unreliable narrators." The seminar is intense, as usual. We're discussing a novel with an unreliable narrator, and Adrian is pushing us to think about why the author made that choice, what it reveals about truth and perception. I find myself getting into it, arguing with another student about whether the narrator is deliberately lying or just self-deceived. Adrian is watching me, and I can feel his attention like a physical weight. "Emma makes a good point," he says, cutting into the debate. "The narrator isn't necessarily lying. He's telling his truth, which isn't the same as the truth. That's the key distinction." Vanessa speaks up from across the table. "But doesn't that just excuse him for being wrong? At some point, perception becomes deception." "Interesting," Adrian says, turning to her. "What do you think, Emma? Is there a moral difference between being wrong and lying?" I meet his eyes. "I think intent matters. If someone genuinely believes what they're saying, even if it's not true, that's different from deliberate deception. But both can cause harm." Something flickers in Adrian's expression. "Agreed. Though sometimes the line between the two is thinner than we'd like to admit." There's a weight to his words that feels personal, but I can't figure out why. The rest of the seminar passes in the usual back-and-forth. When class ends, Adrian calls out, "Emma, stay for a minute." My stomach drops. Vanessa smirks as she walks past me. Once everyone's gone, Adrian leans against his desk, arms crossed. "How's the contest essay coming?" "Good. I think. I'm still revising, but I'm happy with the direction." "Good." He pauses, studying me. "You've been distracted lately. During seminars. Is everything alright?" I blink, caught off guard. "I'm fine. Just busy with the contest and my thesis and everything else." "Hmm." He doesn't look convinced. "You know you can talk to me if something's affecting your work. That's what I'm here for." "I know. But I'm fine. Really." He holds my gaze for a moment longer, and I swear something passes between us. Something that makes my skin feel too tight. "Alright. Don't let the pressure of the contest get to you. Your work is strong. Trust yourself." "Thanks," I managed to say. As I'm leaving, he calls after me. "Emma?" I turn back. "Be careful who you trust. Not everyone has your best interests at heart." I have no idea what that means, but it stays with me for the rest of the day. That night, I'm lying in bed, texting A.H. about my day. I leave out the weird conversation with Adrian, but I tell him about Vanessa and the contest stress. **A.H.:** *She sounds jealous. Don't let her get in your head.* **Me:** *Easier said than done. She's been here longer, knows more people, has more experience. What if she's right? What if I don't deserve this nomination?* **A.H.:** *Stop. You're brilliant, E. I've read your ideas through our conversations. You think deeply, you challenge assumptions, you're not afraid to be wrong. That's what makes a great scholar.* **Me:** *You sound like a professor.* **A.H.:** *Maybe I just know talent when I see it.* **Me:** *You haven't seen me. Not really.* **A.H.:** *I've seen enough.* There's a pause, then another message comes through. **A.H.:** *I need to tell you something.* My heart starts racing. **Me:** *Okay...* **A.H.:** *I think I'm falling for you. Actually, I know I am. I've known for a while now. And I need you to know that before we meet. Because when we do meet, I want you to understand that this isn't just some casual thing for me. You matter, E. More than I expected.* I stare at my phone, tears pricking my eyes. I don't know why I'm crying. Maybe because I feel the same way and it's terrifying. **Me:** *I'm falling for you too. God, this is so stupid. We've never even met.* **A.H.:** *It's not stupid. It's real. Maybe the most real thing I've felt in years.* **Me:** *Then meet me. Please. I need to see you. I need to know this isn't just in my head.* **A.H.:** *Soon. I promise. There's just something I need to handle first. Something important. But after that, nothing will keep me away from you.* **Me:** *What are you so afraid of?* The response takes a long time. **A.H.:** *Losing you before you even give me a chance.* **Me:** *That doesn't make sense.* **A.H.:** *It will. When you know the truth, it will make sense. And I'm hoping you'll understand. That you'll see past the circumstances to what's real between us.* **Me:** *You're scaring me.* **A.H.:** *Don't be scared. I'd never hurt you intentionally. You have to believe that.* **Me:** *I want to. But you're not making this easy.* **A.H.:** *I know. I'm sorry. Just... trust me a little longer. Please.* I set my phone down, frustrated and confused. What is he hiding? Why can't he just be honest with me? Sophie knocks on my door and pokes her head in. "You okay? You look upset." "I'm fine." "Liar." She comes in and sits on my bed. "Is it A.H.?" "He told me he's falling for me." Sophie's eyes go wide. "That's good, right?" "I guess. But he still won't meet me. He keeps saying there's something he needs to tell me first, something about his 'situation.' I don't know what that means." "Maybe he's nervous. Three months is a long time to build something up in your head." "Or maybe he's hiding something bad." "Do you think he is?" I think about all our conversations, the way he talks to me, the way he makes me feel. "No. I don't think it's anything bad. But I think it's something big." "Then just wait. If he's worth it, he'll figure it out." Sophie leaves, and I'm alone with my thoughts again. My phone buzzes one more time. **A.H.:** *Sweet dreams, E. I hope you dream of good things. Of us.* **Me:** *Goodnight, A.H.* I fall asleep with my phone next to my pillow, wondering who this man really is, and why my heart already feels like it belongs to him. Across campus, Adrian Cross is lying in his bed, staring at the same conversation on his phone. He's run out of time. Three months of this double life, and it's killing him. Emma deserves the truth. She deserves to know that the man she's falling for online is the same man who pushes her in seminars, who watches her when he thinks she's not looking, who nominated her for a contest because her work genuinely impressed him. But telling her means risking everything. His job. Her trust. The connection they've built. Adrian knows he should have told her weeks ago. But every day he tells himself "one more day," and one day becomes tw o becomes three becomes three months. Tomorrow, he decides. Tomorrow he'll figure out how to tell her the truth. But tomorrow becomes the next day, and the next, and before he knows it, the app updates. And everything changes.