Her Own Terms

Nina stared at her phone, thumb hovering over Ava's contact name. They'd been texting back and forth for weeks now—ever since they'd been paired for the literature project. What started as discussions about symbolism in poetry had somehow evolved into late-night conversations about everything and nothing.

She loved talking to Ava. Loved the way she analyzed characters like they were real people she cared about. Loved her laugh when Nina made terrible puns. Loved how Ava always remembered the little things Nina mentioned in passing.

But that was where it got complicated.

Nina flopped back on her bed, staring at the ceiling. She'd finally put a name to what she'd been feeling for months—maybe years. Asexual. The word felt both foreign and familiar, like finally finding the right key for a lock she'd been struggling with.

It explained so much. Why she'd felt like an outsider when her friends gushed about celebrities they found "hot." Why she'd nodded along to conversations about hookups while feeling like everyone was speaking a different language. Why romantic comedies always seemed to skip over the parts that actually interested her—the getting to know each other, the emotional intimacy, the quiet moments.

Her phone buzzed.

Ava: Still on for coffee tomorrow? Found this bookstore café that looks perfect for discussing our Virginia Woolf analysis 📚*

Nina's heart did that fluttery thing it always did when Ava texted. She definitely had feelings for Ava—deep, overwhelming, want-to-spend-all-her-time-with-her feelings. But how could she explain that to someone who might expect... more?

Nina: Absolutely! Can't wait to hear your thoughts on the lighthouse symbolism

Ava: You're the only person I know who gets as excited about metaphors as I do 💕

That little heart emoji made Nina's cheeks warm. Did it mean something? Or was Ava just being friendly?

Nina had spent hours reading forums and articles about asexuality, finally feeling seen in other people's stories. But she'd also read about the challenges—the misconceptions, the assumption that asexual people didn't want relationships at all. She wanted a relationship with Ava more than anything. She just wasn't sure how to explain that her version of romance might look different than what Ava expected.

The next afternoon, Nina arrived early at the café, choosing a corner table surrounded by towering bookshelves. When Ava walked in, scanning the room with that focused expression she got when she was thinking hard about something, Nina felt that familiar flutter again.

"This place is perfect," Ava said, sliding into the seat across from her. "Very 'Bloomsbury Group meets modern coffee culture.'"

They fell into easy conversation about their project, but Nina found herself distracted, watching the way Ava's eyes lit up when she talked about something she was passionate about, the way she gestured with her hands when she got excited.

"Nina?" Ava's voice broke through her thoughts. "You seem somewhere else today. Everything okay?"

Nina felt her face heat up. "Sorry, I just... I've been thinking about some stuff lately. Personal stuff."

"Want to talk about it?" Ava asked gently. "We don't have to discuss Woolf if you'd rather not."

There was something in Ava's tone—genuine care, no pressure—that made Nina's decision for her.

"Actually," Nina said, her heart racing, "there is something I wanted to tell you. About me. And maybe... about us? If there is an us. Which I'm not sure about, but I really hope there could be, even though I'm probably going to make this really complicated."

Ava leaned forward slightly. "Hey, slow down. Whatever it is, we can figure it out together."

Nina took a deep breath. "I think I'm asexual. I know I am, actually. And I also know that I have feelings for you—big, scary, wonderful feelings. But I'm terrified that those two things don't go together in a way that makes sense for... for someone who might want to be with me."

Ava was quiet for a moment, and Nina felt her stomach drop. But then Ava reached across the table and gently touched Nina's hand.

"Thank you for telling me," Ava said softly. "That must have taken a lot of courage."

"You're not... weirded out?"

"Why would I be weirded out? Nina, I care about you. All of you. And if you're asexual, then that's part of who you are." Ava paused, a small smile playing at her lips. "Besides, I have feelings for you too. Have for weeks now. I was just too nervous to say anything."

Nina felt like she could breathe properly for the first time in days. "Really?"

"Really. And we can figure out what that looks like for us. Together. No pressure, no assumptions. Just... us."

Nina squeezed Ava's hand, feeling something settle into place inside her chest. "I'd really like that."

"Good," Ava said, grinning. "Now, can we please get back to discussing how Woolf uses the lighthouse as a symbol for unattainable desires? Because I have theories, and I think you're going to love them."

Nina laughed, feeling lighter than she had in months. This was exactly the kind of relationship she'd hoped for—built on understanding, communication, and a shared love of overanalyzing literature. Perfect.