Chapter 3: Breaking the Spreadsheet
The click of the door was a period at the end of a sentence. Then Katy moved.
It wasn’t a gentle pull. It was a push, her hands firm on Vy’s shoulders, spinning them so their back met the solid wood. The faded poster of some French New Wave film rattled. Before Vy could gasp, Katy’s mouth was on theirs, and this wasn’t the cold, hopeful kiss by the pond. This was hungry, unequivocal.
Katy’s hands slipped under the hem of Vy’s sweater, her palms cool against the flare of their ribs. Vy shuddered, their own hands coming up to tangle in the thick silk of Katy’s hair, knocking her glasses askew. They broke apart, breathless, foreheads touching. Katy’s glasses hung precariously from one ear.
“Okay?” Katy whispered, the word a puff of shared air.
In answer, Vy kissed her again, slower now, learning the shape of her mouth, the slight catch of her lower lip. They tasted of clarity. The careful academic pretense, the mentor-student dynamic, the spreadsheets and the five-year plans—it all crumbled under the simple, astonishing fact of skin. Katy’s hands mapped the feverish territory of Vy’s back, her thumbs tracing the line of their spine through the thin cotton of their shirt.
Vy’s own explorations were less sure. They fumbled with the buttons of Katy’s flannel, fingers clumsy. Katy chuckled, a low, warm sound against Vy’s jaw, and finished the task herself, shrugging the shirt off to let it fall on the pile of books by the door. The fairy lights strung above the bed caught the pale curve of her shoulder, the strap of a simple cotton bra.
“You’re shaking,” Katy observed, her hands coming up to frame Vy’s face.
“You’re not,” Vy managed.
“I am. Inside.” She kissed them, a soft press that gentled the frantic energy. “We can stop. Just say it.”
Vy shook their head, the movement dislodging a tear they hadn’t realized had formed. It was too much. The wanting, the fulfillment, the terrifying vulnerability. “Don’t you dare stop.”
They moved to the bed, a chaotic nest of mismatched sheets and a worn quilt. Katy’s knees hit the edge and she sat, pulling Vy down with her. The world narrowed to the twin landscapes of touch and sight: the calloused pad of Katy’s thumb on their cheekbone, the way the fairy light glow caught the downy hair on her arm, the heavy, familiar scent of her shampoo on the pillow.
It was clumsy. There were elbows in awkward places, a moment where Vy’s heel caught in the quilt, a shared, muffled laugh into a collarbone. It was nothing like the seamless scenes Vy had imagined in the silent library carrels. It was better. It was real.
Afterward, they lay tangled in the quiet wreckage. Vy’s head was on Katy’s stomach, rising and falling with her breath. Their sweater was gone, discarded somewhere on the floor. Katy traced idle patterns on the bare skin of Vy’s shoulder, her other hand still woven into their hair.
The room came back into focus piece by piece. The stack of econ textbooks on the dresser. The polaroid of Celena and Rain, stuck into the frame of Katy’s mirror, making a face at the camera. The faint, damp smell of the tea mug from yesterday.
“So,” Katy said, her voice hoarse.
“So,” Vy echoed.
“Your statistical analysis of the situation?”
Vy smiled into the soft skin of her stomach. “Sample size of one. Preliminary findings are… promising. Requires further study.”
Katy laughed, a genuine, full-bodied sound that vibrated through Vy. “Nerd.” She squeezed their shoulder. “I’m serious, though.”
“I know.” Vy turned their head to look up at her. Katy was staring at the ceiling, a faint line between her brows. The post-coital glow was already cooling into something more pensive. “What’s the conflict ranking now? On a scale of ‘manageable oversight’ to ‘international incident’?”
Katy sighed. “Somewhere around ‘unauthorized diplomatic engagement.’” She looked down, her expression soft but serious. “I meant what I said. I don’t want to mess you up. This,” she gestured vaguely at their entwined bodies, “is a massive variable I didn’t account for.”
“You talk about yourself like you’re a lab experiment.”
“Aren’t we all?” Katy countered, but she smiled. “I just… I need to be good at this. At us. And I don’t know the protocol.”
Vy shifted, rolling onto their side to face her. They propped their head up on a hand. “There isn’t one. That’s the point.” They reached out, touching the corner of her mouth where the gap in her teeth hid. “You’re not my mentor right now. You’re just Katy. Who likes bad French movies and bergamot tea and whose best friend probably hates me.”
“Celena doesn’t hate you. She’s… protective. And she thinks romantic entanglements are inefficient.”
“Are we a romantic entanglement?”
The question hung in the air. Katy’s eyes searched theirs. She didn’t answer with words. Instead, she leaned in and kissed Vy, a slow, deep, unmistakable kiss that tasted like yes.
When they parted, the reality of the outside world began to seep in through the cracks under the door. Vy’s phone, buried in their discarded jeans, buzzed insistently on the floor. The sky outside the single window had turned the deep, starless black of deepest night, meaning it was probably past two AM.
“That’s my roommate,” Vy muttered. “Probably wondering if I got murdered.”
Katy’s arm tightened around them. “Stay. Just… stay. We can deal with the fallout tomorrow.”
It was a terrible idea. Vy had a 9 a.m. statistics recitation. Katy had a thesis meeting with her advisor. The fallout would be a cascade of logistical nightmares and sideways looks.
“Okay,” Vy said, settling back against her.
They must have dozed. Vy woke to the gray, muted light of a cloudy dawn filtering through the window. They were on their side, Katy curled around them from behind, her breath warm on the nape of their neck. One of her arms was slung heavily over Vy’s waist, her fingers loosely intertwined with theirs.
For a suspended moment, it was perfect. A held breath. Then Vy’s bladder insisted, and the spell broke.
They carefully extricated themselves, shivering as the cool air hit their skin. They found their clothes in a heap and padded quietly to the small, shared bathroom down the hall. Their reflection in the mirror was a shock: hair mashed on one side, a faint, reddish mark on their neck, their eyes wide and slightly dazed. They looked like someone who had stepped off a cliff and found they could fly.
Back in the room, Katy was awake. She’d put her glasses on and was sitting up in bed, the quilt pulled to her chest, scrolling through her phone. The blue light etched her face in stark planes. She looked exhausted, beautiful, and tense.
“Hey,” Vy whispered.
“Hey.” Katy put her phone down. “Your roommate sent four more texts. I didn’t read them, but the previews look concerned.”
Vy winced. “I’ll text her back.” They hesitated by the bed, suddenly feeling like a guest who’d overstayed. The intimacy of the night had receded, leaving a quiet, awkward morning in its wake.
Katy seemed to sense it. She patted the space beside her. “Come here. Before the world starts.”
Vy climbed back in, the sheets still warm from their body heat. They sat side by side, shoulders touching, not looking at each other. It felt monumental and terribly fragile.
“Rain will be back from her overnight at Brown around ten,” Katy said, stating a fact. “Celena expects me for brunch at the dining hall at eleven-thirty. She’ll want a debrief.”
“A debrief,” Vy repeated, the word clinical and cold.
“That’s what she calls it.” Katy finally looked at them. “What do you want to do?”
The question was a gift and a weapon. Vy knew what they wanted. To stay in this rumpled bed, to order terrible dining hall pizza and eat it right here, to forget about international relations and statistics and the judgment of sharp-eyed juniors. But that wasn’t the world they lived in.
“I want to see you again,” Vy said, choosing the core truth. “Tonight. After the debriefes and the roommates and the recitations.”
Some of the tension left Katy’s shoulders. “Okay. Okay, good.” She leaned over and kissed Vy’s temple, a quick, grounding touch. “Now get out of here before someone sees you fleeing my tower at dawn. It’s bad for both our reputations.”
The dismissal was gentle, lined with care, but it was a dismissal. The transition back to reality was beginning. Vy dressed quickly, each article of clothing feeling like a piece of armor going back on. They shouldered their tote, now stuffed with crumpled clothes and yesterday’s innocence.
At the door, they turned. Katy was still in bed, watching them, the fairy lights above her like a faded constellation.
“Today,” Vy said. It was a promise, a question, a plea.
Katy nodded. “Today.”
Vy slipped out into the empty, echoing hallway. The door clicked shut behind them, a period once again. But the sentence, they knew, was far from over. They walked quickly, the cold morning air in the stairwell a shock, the mark on their neck burning like a secret brand. They had their answer, their preliminary findings. The experiment was underway, and there was no control group anymore. There was only the thrilling, terrifying freefall, and the hope that Katy Guo was falling right alongside them.
The freefall sensation lingered in Vy’s bones all day, a low hum beneath the drone of their statistics lecture. Every spreadsheet cell blurred into the memory of Katy’s hands on their skin. The mark on their neck, hidden under a high collar, pulsed like a second heartbeat. Celena, at brunch, had watched Katy with a silent, analytic stare that felt like a physical probe, but Katy just drank her coffee and deflected questions about her ‘late night’ with a practiced, vague ease that thrilled and terrified Vy. The debrief, evidently, had been stern.
“Meet me at the carrels after ten,” Katy’s text read, just before Vy’s econ seminar. “Fourth floor. The stained-glass window.”
The Pendleton Library at night was a different creature. The golden light was gone, replaced by the sterile blue of LED study lamps pooling in isolated islands on the vast dark wood. The fourth floor was nearly deserted, a silent cathedral of knowledge. Vy’s sneakers squeaked on the polished floor as they approached their familiar nook.
Katy was already there, a shadow against the now-black window. She turned, and her face was all stark angles in the dim light, her expression unreadable. She didn’t smile.
“Hey,” Vy said, their voice too loud in the hush.
Katy closed the distance in three long strides. She gripped Vy’s face, her thumbs pressing into their jawline, and kissed them with a desperation that bordered on violence. It was nothing like the night before. This was a claim. A conflict. Vy moaned into her mouth, hands flying to her waist, gripping the soft wool of her sweater.
“Celena thinks this is a catastrophic error in judgment,” Katy breathed, not letting go, her lips moving against Vy’s. “She says I’m exploiting a power differential.”
“Are you?” Vy gasped, arching as Katy’s mouth found their throat.
“Yes.” The word was a hot whisper against Vy’s skin. “And I don’t give a fuck.” Her hand slid down, palming Vy through their jeans, a rough, intentional pressure that made their knees buckle. “Do you?”
“No.” The answer was immediate, torn from them. Katy’s fingers worked the button of their jeans, then the zipper, the sound obscenely loud in the silent library. Cool air hit Vy’s stomach, followed by the scorching heat of Katy’s hand sliding beneath their waistband. Vy cried out, a sharp, muffled sound they swallowed against Katy’s shoulder.
“Quiet,” Katy commanded, but her own breathing was ragged. Her fingers pushed past the elastic of Vy’s underwear, through the coarse thatch of hair, and found them wet and already clenching around nothing. “God, you’re so fucking ready.” She plunged two fingers inside, a swift, deep invasion that stole Vy’s breath. “Is this what you thought about all day? In class?”
“Yes—fuck, Katy—” Vy choked out, hips jerking to meet the ruthless rhythm of her hand. Their own hands scrambled under Katy’s sweater, finding the bare skin of her back, nails digging in. The world narrowed to the sound of their stifled gasps, the slick, filthy noise of Katy’s fingers moving inside them, and the distant, safe hum of the library’s climate control.
Katy twisted her wrist, her thumb finding Vy’s clit, and Vy saw stars behind their eyelids. The orgasm ripped through them, a silent, convulsive wave that left them shuddering and weak, held up only by Katy’s arm around their waist and the solid desk at their back. Katy slowly withdrew her fingers, bringing them to her own mouth, her eyes locked on Vy’s as she sucked them clean.
“My turn,” she said, her voice dark with want. She guided Vy’s trembling hand to her own jeans, urging them open. Vy fumbled, driven by a dizzying mix of awe and base instinct. They pushed Katy’s jeans and underwear down over her hips, just enough. The thatch of coarse hair was darker than the hair on her head. Katy guided Vy’s fingers into the soaked heat, groaning as Vy touched her.
“Like that,” Katy panted, her forehead falling onto Vy’s shoulder. “Don’t be gentle.” Vy obeyed, driven by Katy’s hissed instructions, by the way her body clenched and bucked against their hand. They learned her rhythm, the spot that made her gasp, the precise pressure that made her curse into their shirt. Feeling Katy come apart under their touch was more powerful than their own climax. Katy’s orgasm was a series of sharp, bitten-off cries, her body rigid, then limp against them.
For a long minute, they leaned against the desk, clinging to each other in the dark, clothes disheveled, the smell of sex and sweat cutting through the lavender and old paper. Katy’s breathing slowly evened. She straightened, pulling her clothes back into order with a practicality that felt jarring. Vy did the same, their fingers numb and clumsy.
Katy traced a finger over the cover of the economics textbook still on the desk, the same one from yesterday. “This complicates everything,” she said, not looking at Vy.
“I know.” Vy’s voice was raw.
Finally, Katy looked at them. The defensive wall was back, but it was cracked, and through the cracks Vy saw a flicker of the same fear they felt. It was a mirror. The thrilling freefall was also a nauseating drop.
Vy reached out, took her hand. The words tumbled out of Vy in a rush, soft and fractured in the library silence. “Katy jiejie, you know you’re my first kiss and is the person who take my virginity too.” They swallowed, the admission leaving them exposed. “Gosh, I like you a lot.”
Katy went very still. The title ‘jiejie’—older sister—hung between them, fraught with all the forbidden nuance Celena had warned about. She didn’t smile. Her eyes glistened in the low light, and she blinked rapidly. She reached out, her thumb catching a tear on Vy’s cheek they hadn’t even felt.
“Shit,” Katy whispered, the word full of a profound, helpless tenderness. She pulled Vy into a hug, tight and crushing, her face buried in their hair. They stood like that for a long time, in the shadow of the stained-glass window, holding onto each other as the freefall continued, with no ground in sight.
They stood like that for a long time, in the shadow of the stained-glass window, holding onto each other as the freefall continued, with no ground in sight. Katy finally pulled back, wiping her own eyes with the heels of her hands. “We can’t do this here again.” Her voice was scraped raw. “My room. Tomorrow. After my seminar.”
Vy just nodded, their throat too tight for words. They watched Katy gather her bag, the familiar textbook, the scattered pens. The transformation back into the composed junior was a physical, painful thing to witness. With a final, unreadable look, Katy turned and walked away, her footsteps absorbed by the library’s dense carpet.
The walk back to Vy’s dorm was a blur of cold air and disjointed thoughts. The scent of Katy was still on their hands.
Katy’s text came just after nine the next evening. Rain’s gone for the weekend. Come up.
Tower 3 felt like a separate country. Vy’s knock was soft, tentative. The door swung open immediately, as if Katy had been waiting on the other side. She pulled Vy in, locking the door behind them. The room was warm, lit only by the string of fairy lights. The air smelled strongly of bergamot and, underneath, the cleaner they used on the shared bathroom floors.
“Hi,” Vy said.
Katy didn’t answer with words. She kissed Vy, deep and consuming, walking them backward until Vy’s legs hit the edge of her neatly made bed. There was a frantic edge to it, a driven hunger that felt like it was trying to erase something. Her hands went to the button of Vy’s jeans.
“Katy, wait—” Vy gasped, catching her wrists.
“Don’t you want to?” Katy’s eyes were dark, challenging.
“Yes. Always. But just… wait a second.” Vy gently guided her to sit on the bed, then sat beside her, their thighs touching. “Talk to me. What did Celena say?”
Katy looked away, toward the polaroids on her wall. She let out a long, slow breath. “She said I was being selfish. Reckless. That I was fucking with a freshman’s head because my own life is too predictable. That it’s not mentorship, it’s predation wrapped in a cute package.” She recited it flatly, like a clinical diagnosis. “She said I should be with someone like Rain. Established. Uncomplicated.”
“Is that what you think?” Vy’s heart was a trapped bird.
“I think,” Katy said, turning to look at them, her gaze softening, “that Celena has never done a single thing in her life that wasn’t on a five-year plan. I think she’s scared for me.” She reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind Vy’s ear. “And I think she might be a little right, which is the part that kills me.”
“I’m not a child,” Vy whispered.
“I know.” Katy leaned in, her breath warm. “But I have three years of shit on you. Three years of knowing how this place works, how to play the game. That’s a real thing.” She kissed Vy, softer this time. “But when I’m with you, I don’t want to play any games. I just want this.”
Her hands resumed their work, undoing Vy’s jeans and pulling them down along with their underwear in one rough motion. She pushed Vy onto their back. “I just want to feel you.”
Katy stripped off her own sweatpants and tank top. She knelt over Vy, her body a pale outline against the twinkling lights. She reached for a small bottle on her nightstand—plain, functional lube, not romance. The click of the cap was loud. She poured a generous amount onto her fingers, warming it for a second before bringing her hand between Vy’s legs.
“You’re sure?” Katy asked, her fingers slick and slippery at Vy’s entrance.
“Yes. God, please.”
Katy pushed in with two fingers, curling them, her eyes locked on Vy’s face. Vy arched, a sharp cry torn from their throat. It was more intense than in the library, deeper, with a practiced precision that made their vision blur. Katy worked them open with a ruthless, tender efficiency, adding a third finger, stretching them until Vy was panting, begging into the quiet room.
“Okay,” Katy whispered, more to herself. She withdrew her fingers. She grabbed a condom from the nightstand drawer, tore the wrapper with her teeth, and rolled it on herself with a few quick, practiced strokes. She positioned herself, the blunt, rubber-clad head pressing where her fingers had been.
She didn’t ask again. She pushed in, slowly, a relentless, burning invasion that forced the air from Vy’s lungs. Katy’s own breath hitched, a ragged gasp next to Vy’s ear. She buried her face in the crook of Vy’s neck as she seated herself fully, a deep, complete possession that made Vy feel both shattered and whole.
“Fuck,” Katy muttered, her body trembling with the effort of holding still. “You feel… unbelievable.”
Then she began to move. It wasn’t gentle. It was a piston-like rhythm, deep and hard, each thrust jolting Vy up the bed. The headboard knocked a dull, rhythmic beat against the wall. Katy’s hands gripped Vy’s hips, her fingers digging in, holding them in place as she fucked into them with a focused, almost grim intensity. The slick, wet sound of their joining filled the room, a filthy counterpoint to their strained breathing.
“Tell me,” Katy grunted, her pace punishing. “Tell me you want this.”
“I want it,” Vy choked out, their own hands scrambling at her back. “I want you. Just like this.”
“Harder?”
“Yes. Fuck, yes, Katy—”
Katy adjusted, hooking one of Vy’s legs over her arm, opening them wider, changing the angle. The next thrust hit a spot that shattered Vy’s coherence into a wordless wail. They came, violently, their body seizing around Katy, who swore and followed them over the edge, her own orgasm a silent, convulsive shudder that lasted for several pounding heartbeats.
She collapsed, her weight heavy and welcome, her sweat-slick skin cooling against Vy’s. The only sound was their ragged, slowing breath and the distant hum of the tower’s plumbing. After a moment, Katy peeled herself away, disposed of the condom, and returned to bed, pulling Vy against her.
They lay in the afterglow, but it was a fragile peace. The things Celena had said were a third presence in the room, sitting at the foot of the bed.
A sharp, rapid knocking fractured the silence.
Not Vy’s tentative tap. This was assertive, impatient. Katy went rigid.
The knocking came again. “Katy. I know you’re in there. Open up.” Celena’s voice, crisp and clear through the thin wood.
Katy closed her eyes, a wave of sheer dread passing over her features. She mouthed ‘shit’ to Vy. “Just a second!” she called out, her voice falsely bright. She scrambled out of bed, pulling on her sweatpants and a hoodie. She gestured frantically for Vy to get dressed.
Vy moved in a panic, pulling on their clothes with fumbling hands, their heart hammering against their ribs. The scent of sex was everywhere. They stood, feeling horribly exposed, as if their skin were still glowing with the evidence.
Katy looked at them, then at the room. She walked to the window and shoved it open, letting in a blast of cold night air. “Just… stand over there,” she whispered, pointing to the corner by her bookshelf, out of the direct sightline from the door. Her expression was one of pained apology.
She took a deep breath, smoothed her hair, and opened the door just a crack. “Hey. What’s up?”
Celena didn’t wait for an invitation. She pushed the door open and stepped inside, her gaze sweeping the room like a forensic investigator. It landed on Vy, who tried to look casual leaning against the bookshelf, their face burning. It flicked to the rumpled bed, the open window billowing the curtains, then back to Katy.
“We need to talk,” Celena said, her voice icy. “Alone.”
“Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of Vy,” Katy said, but her voice lacked its usual force. She crossed her arms over her chest, a defensive gesture.
Celena’s lip curled, just slightly. She finally looked directly at Vy, her assessment cold and thorough. “Fine.” She turned her attention back to Katy. “Rain saw someone leaving your room at dawn yesterday. She thought it was maybe a one-night thing from Boston. I defended you. I said you were smarter than that.” Her gaze cut back to Vy. “But then you missed our study meeting tonight. And you’re ‘busy’ all weekend.”
“Celena—” Katy started.
“No. You listen.” Celena took a step closer, her voice dropping but losing none of its intensity. “This isn’t a cute crush anymore. This is you being stupid. Do you have any idea what this looks like? Your little protégé, in your room, with the door locked? How do you think that reads?”
“It’s not like that,” Vy said, their own voice small in the tense space.
“I wasn’t asking you,” Celena said without looking at them. Her eyes were pinned on Katy. “You’re her mentor. You’re supposed to be guiding her through IR-Econ, not into your bed. This isn’t some romantic novel, Katy. This is your reputation. Her reputation. And when this blows up—and it will—you’ll be the villain in that story. Not her. You.”
The air in the room vanished. The cold from the window was nothing compared to the chill of Celena’s words.
“You don’t know anything about it,” Katy said, but her defiance was crumbling.
“I know everything about it!” Celena’s composure snapped, a rare flash of real anger. “I see you making the same fucking mistake I did with Professor Haskins last year. The late-night ‘review sessions.’ The excuses. The feeling that you’re so special, so mature, that the rules don’t apply.” Her voice trembled, just for a second. “He almost got tenure revoked. I almost transferred. It’s not a game.”
The confession hung in the air, brutal and clarifying. This wasn’t just about principle. It was about personal history, a wound Vy hadn’t known existed.
Katy looked gutted. “Cee…”
“I’m not having this conversation to hurt you.” Celena’s voice was quiet again, final. “I’m having it because I’m your friend. End it. Cleanly. Before someone else has this conversation with you, and it’s the Dean of Students.” She finally looked at Vy, her expression not unkind, but utterly resolute. “You should go.”
Vy looked at Katy, who wouldn’t meet their eyes. The freefall wasn’t thrilling anymore. It was the sickening lurch of the ground falling away forever. Without a word, Vy walked to the door, past Celena, and out into the fluorescent glare of the hallway, the door clicking shut behind them with a sound of absolute finality.