Chapter 2: Birthday Nerves

I'm Alex—intersex, and hiding a secret crush on my cold and aloof roommate, Jason.

It was Jason's birthday, and the Bluetooth mouse I ordered on Amazon had just arrived. Jason’s own mouse had just broken, so mine showed up at the perfect time. I don’t know who spread the word about Jason’s birthday. He’s the campus heartthrob, and plenty of people want to give him gifts.

I’m socially anxious and tend to fade into the background, so I stood on the edge of the crowd, wondering how I could give him my present. The student lounge was full of noise—someone had started a chorus of “Happy Birthday, dear Jason!” while others snapped pics for Instagram. I hugged my hoodie tighter, shuffling my Vans against the scuffed tile, waiting for a break in the crowd. I felt invisible, which was usually comforting, but today it just made my stomach twist.

Just as I was hesitating, he reached out, his hand unexpectedly warm. I froze, my heart slamming against my ribs as he tugged me closer, his breath brushing my ear. “Dude, why are you lurking over here? Come join us.”

His voice was low, barely carrying over the chatter. Jason’s touch was gentle, but my breath hitched anyway. Suddenly, all those months of quiet daydreams pressed up against the reality of his warm hand around my wrist.

I seized the moment and handed him my gift. “I remember your mouse broke a few days ago, right? I happened to get a new one, so I’ll give it to you.”

My words came out in a tumble. I could hear someone laughing in the background—maybe at a meme, maybe at me. I wished the floor would swallow me whole as I pushed the box into his hands before I could overthink it. For a second, I worried he’d think it was too cheap—a mouse from Amazon when everyone else was handing over fancy water bottles or limited-edition hoodies. My palms went clammy with anxiety.

That’s when the chat bubbles appeared again.

[He just handed himself over—what a little fool.]

[This clueless kid still doesn't know the mouse is now linked to his most sensitive spot.]

[Wait, isn’t this kid intersex? That’s gotta make things even wilder.]

[From now on, whenever his roommate spins the mouse wheel with his middle finger, won’t this silly baby get so worked up he’ll grab the sheets and stick out his tongue?]

They floated in my peripheral vision, like notifications from some unhinged group chat I’d never joined. My heart started pounding even harder, but I tried to ignore it, focusing on Jason’s hands instead.

I was a little confused. How do the chat bubbles know I’m intersex? And what does it mean to be linked? What does Jason spinning the mouse wheel with his finger have to do with me?

The questions buzzed around in my brain, more distracting than the party noise. I shot a quick, nervous look at Jason’s hands—long, steady, the kind that made you imagine him playing piano, not pounding out code—hovered over the mouse.

I subconsciously glanced at Jason’s fingers. His fingers were long and fair, with well-defined joints—really nice hands. The kind of hands you noticed when he was typing, or when he absently cracked his knuckles before a big exam. I’d caught myself watching them way too many times, but never like this—never with the chat bubbles’ teasing commentary in my head.

When he saw the gift I’d given, Jason’s eyes softened with a smile. “For me?”

His whole face changed when he smiled, like the sun finally coming out from behind gray clouds. The way his lips tilted up made something flutter in my chest, a feeling I tried to swallow down.

The chat bubbles popped up again.

[Little fool, you even gave away your most precious thing. What will you do if he takes advantage of you in the future?]

[Dummy, it’s not too late to take it back. If you don’t, you’ll lose all control and end up crying.]

I stared at the floating words, wishing I could swipe them away. Was I missing something obvious? My cheeks burned—maybe from embarrassment, maybe from the weird, illicit thrill that came with imagining Jason ‘taking advantage’ of me, whatever that meant. Still, I kept reminding myself it was just a mouse. Right?

But I hadn’t prepared anything else besides this gift. It’s just a mouse. Is it really that serious?

I squeezed the straps of my backpack, trying to ground myself in the mundane, normal world of plastic-wrapped gifts and awkward small talk. But the chat bubbles lingered, whispering doubts.

While I was lost in thought, Jason had already reached out to touch the mouse.

Thanks to the chat bubbles, I got nervous and raised my hand to stop him. “Don’t touch it yet—”

My voice cracked, making a couple of people turn their heads. I felt the urge to bolt, to yank the mouse back before anything could happen. But it was too late.

But before I could finish, Jason’s fingers were already spinning the mouse wheel.

The next second, I bit my lip and let out a muffled moan.

Heat shot through me so fast I nearly choked. I clamped a hand over my mouth, praying nobody heard. It was like an electric jolt zipping straight through me, sharp and hot and mortifying. My knees wobbled, and I had to clench my fists to keep from making another sound.

My eyes instantly reddened, and tears welled up. People nearby looked at me curiously.

I hurriedly bit my lip harder, desperately trying to hold it in.

Jason looked at me, worried, and touched my forehead. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?”

He brushed my hair back, his fingertips cool against my clammy skin. I wanted to melt into the floor, wishing the ground would swallow me up right there between the vending machines and the overstuffed couch.

I immediately shook my head and insisted I was fine.

“I’m okay, just... the room’s kinda stuffy, I guess,” I mumbled, the lie thick on my tongue. I tried to smile, but my lips trembled.

I stared at the mouse in his hand. The chat bubbles weren’t wrong. It seemed I really was linked to this mouse. Whenever Jason touched it, I felt it in my most private place.

Regret hit me hard. I really wanted to tell Jason to just give the mouse back.

But before I could say anything, Jason reached out and ruffled my hair. “Thanks for the gift. I really like it.”

His hand lingered on my head a second longer than usual, and it almost made me want to cry for a different reason. The casual affection, the way he said it—it was all too much.

“I’ll use it every day from now on.”

Every day?

My vision went dark, my knees went weak, and I nearly collapsed on the spot.

It was like someone had unplugged me. I clutched the back of a chair for balance, heart slamming in my chest as I realized what that would mean—every day, every click, every spin.

The chat bubbles gloated:

[The gift’s given, no take-backs. Now he’s completely at his mercy.]

[Perfect, the little dummy’s going to get played with every day by his roommate. Can’t wait to watch!]

Their digital laughter felt like it was aimed straight at me, and I wanted nothing more than to go back in time, to never have ordered that stupid mouse at all.