The Thursday night get-together wasn't her idea.
Somehow, after their group presentation had wrapped up earlier that day, someone had suggested drinks "just to celebrate." And somehow, that someone had said her name out loud before Regina could escape.
So now she was here—perched awkwardly in the corner of a too-loud apartment, clutching a too-sweet drink and pretending to enjoy being surrounded by way too many people.
Connor was across the room.
Not talking to Mandy. Not scrolling on his phone. Just standing there, watching the chaos around him with that usual half-bored, half-detached expression.
He looked up and met her eyes.
And then he walked toward her.
Straight past the beer pong table, ignoring whatever joke someone had tossed his way.
He stopped right in front of her.
"You okay?" he asked.
Regina nodded. "Too many people."
He gave a quiet huff of agreement. "Wanna get some air?"
She hesitated.
Then stood up anyway.
They ended up on the balcony.
It was cold, but not unbearable. The full moon hung above them like a coin in the sky—slightly too big. Slightly too bright.
Connor leaned against the railing, his drink dangling from one hand.
Neither of them spoke for a long time.
Then, out of nowhere—
"You ever feel like your body doesn't match your mind?"
Regina blinked. "That's... specific."
He let out a short laugh. "Forget it. I'm drunk."
"You don't seem drunk."
"I hide it well," he said, eyes still fixed on the moon. "Comes with practice."
There was another pause. Not quite awkward. Just heavy.
Then he turned to her.
His voice was softer this time. Less sarcastic. Less guarded.
"You know…" he said slowly. "It's lucky to have you."
Regina's heart skipped.
"What?"
He smiled—small, quiet, almost shy.
"Je t'aime,（I love you.）" he said.
The words weren't loud.
But they landed like thunder.
Regina froze.
It wasn't just the sound of them. It was the way he said it.Like it wasn't the first time he'd thought about it. Like maybe it was the first time he'd said it out loud.
She felt her breath catch.
"…What did you say?" she asked, switching to English. Pretending.
He looked away, suddenly focused on nothing.
"Nothing."
But she heard it.She understood it.Of course she did.
She had studied French before, so she knew exactly what those words meant.
Je t'aime. （I love you.）
She could've said Moi aussi（Me Too）.She could've said Don't joke like that.
She could've said a lot of things.
But instead, she sipped her drink and looked at the moon.
"Your accent's not bad," she said casually. "But your timing sucks."
He didn't say anything after that.
And neither did she.
The next day, Connor didn't mention the balcony.He didn't mention the moon.He didn't mention the words.
And Regina didn't ask.
But the phrase haunted her like a song she couldn't un-hear.
Je t'aime. (I love you.)
In class, she found herself scribbling it in the margins of her notes. At lunch, she caught herself whispering it into the rim of her straw. She even typed it once into her phone's Notes app, just to see how it looked on a screen.
Then immediately deleted it.
She told herself: He was drunk. He didn't mean it. He says stuff like that to everyone.
But late at night, when everything else was quiet, her heart refused to believe her head.
He looked at me like he meant it. He said it like it wasn't new. He said it like it hurt.
And the worst part?
I understood every word.