Without the Beanie

“You’re a Neko,” I whispered.

Gavin’s ears tipped outward. “Yes.”

I looked behind us, suddenly terrified for him.

“There’s nobody on the path,” he said. “I checked.”

“How did you know about me?”

“I didn’t. Not for sure.” He scratched the back of his neck. “You check your hat whenever somebody gets close. You sit like your tail’s bothering you. And you heard the printer jam through two closed doors yesterday.”

I stared at him.

“I do those things, too,” he added.

A laugh escaped me, thin and unsteady.

“You could’ve just told me.”

“In the library? ‘Nice presentation, by the way, are those ears under your hat?’”

I laughed properly then. His face softened.

“Your turn, if you want.”

I reached up, stopped, and looked toward the path again.

He waited.

Slowly, I pulled the beanie off.

Cold air touched the flattened fur. My ears lifted, one aching slightly at the base, and I closed my eyes.

For a moment, neither of us said anything.

Then Gavin said, “Better?”

I nodded so hard I almost laughed again.

He turned away while I changed into the swim shorts I had packed without any real expectation of using them. Their back seam had a concealed opening. I unfastened it and eased my tail free, grateful enough to feel ridiculous.

When I turned back, Gavin’s tail was swaying behind him.

He looked ordinary and impossible.

“Last one in has to explain our bibliography,” he said.

He hit the water before I could argue.

I followed with a noise that was neither dignified nor fully human.

“It’s freezing!”

“It’s October!”

“You said this was a good idea!”

“It is a good idea. You’re just complaining.”

I splashed him in the face.

We stayed in long enough for the first shock to pass. I swam beneath the overhanging branches, my tail moving freely behind me, my hair slick against my head. Nothing pulled at my waistband. Nothing pressed my ears down.

I hadn’t realized how much effort I spent holding myself still until I stopped.

On shore, we wrapped ourselves in towels. Gavin sat beside me on a flat stone, leaving a careful inch between us.

“Anybody else know?” he asked.

“My parents. Miyu.”

“My older sister. One ex.”

“What happened with the ex?”

“He moved to Vermont. Sometimes people just break up.”

I smiled at the mild rebuke.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I know what you meant.”

I pulled the towel tighter.

“When I was fourteen, a guy at school pulled my hat off. He thought it was funny.”

Gavin stayed quiet.

“I got it back before anybody really saw. But one person asked if there was something wrong with my head. Another reached for it the next day. For weeks, I couldn’t walk down a hall without watching people’s hands.”

“Did you tell someone?”

“My parents. The school stopped the grabbing. Everybody forgot about it eventually.” I rubbed the seam of my towel. “I didn’t.”

He nodded without telling me I shouldn’t still care.

That was the part that nearly made me cry.

“Your roommate?” he asked after a while.

“What about him?”

“Does he know?”

“No.”

Gavin looked out at the lake.

“He seems interested in you.”

“He’s interested in a lot of people.”

“And you?”

I watched a leaf spin on the surface of the water.

“I’m trying not to be.”

Gavin accepted that, too. He had a way of leaving room around an answer that made me want to fill it.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admitted.

“With him?”

“With any of this.”

His fingers touched the stone beside mine.

“Me neither, mostly.”

When I looked at him, he was closer. Not trapping me, not reaching for anything I hadn’t offered. Just close enough that I could see the tiny flecks of brown in his eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

I had time to think about Micah.

I did think about him.

Then I thought about how easy it had been to take off my hat, and how tired I was of being afraid, and I said yes.

Gavin’s kiss was gentle. His hand rested against my jaw. My ears moved toward him without permission, and when he smiled against my mouth, I felt an embarrassed warmth spread through my chest.

No panic came.

That mattered.

It wasn’t everything, but it mattered.

We went back when Miyu texted to ask whether I had been eaten by wildlife. I changed, put my tail away, and pulled on the beanie. The old pressure returned immediately.

Gavin watched me adjust it.

“Now you know where to find me,” he said.

At the main beach, Micah was helping Jyll fold a blanket. He looked up as we approached.

His gaze stopped on my damp hair.

“You went swimming.”

It wasn’t quite a question.

“There was a quieter spot,” I said.

He looked at Gavin, then back at me.

“I could’ve shown you one.”

“I didn’t know.”

His expression shifted. He folded the blanket once more than necessary.

“Right.”

On the drive back, I sat beside Gavin. Micah’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, then moved away.

I told myself I hadn’t done anything wrong.

It would have helped if that had been what was bothering me.

That evening, he knocked on our own bathroom door before coming out, which should have been funny but made something twist in my chest.

“Are we okay?” he asked.

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“You tell me.”

I sat on the edge of my bed, still holding my towel.

“We’re friends, Micah.”

“I know.”

“And roommates.”

“Also aware.”

He looked tired. For once, he didn’t make a joke.

“You looked happy today,” he said.

I didn’t know what to do with the gentleness of it.

“I was.”

He nodded.

“Good.”

Later, a message from Gavin appeared on my phone.

Thanks for trusting me.

I typed a reply, deleted it, and started again.

Across the room, Micah turned off his desk lamp. He lay facing the wall, one arm under his pillow.

I had kissed someone who understood my secret.

I still wanted the boy in the other bed to turn around.