Muse.

When In Rome

On the way home, I get a text from Pieck: u and ur boyfriends are famous.

Attached is a TikTok carousal of stylized black and white photos. There is no mistaking the girl in the photo with mignonette sauce dribbling down her chin. In the foreground, the well-groomed backs of Eren and Armin's heads loom large. Eren's arms are extended, his shirt pulled taut to reveal the musculature of his arm as he lefts the oyster from my lips. In the photo, shock and pleasure shine in my wild eyes. I scroll to the next frame—Eren lighting my cigarette on the other side of a frosted window—and the next—Armin pulling me by the hand to the dance floor. The photos betray every intimate moment from our revelry at Ragazzo Grasso, from the dinner table to the dance floor and back. Well, almost every. The nosiness of that girl at the next table astonishes me. I'm surprised she didn't follow Eren and I into the women's bathroom.

I can't stay mad longer than a couple seconds. The pictures are beautiful. The girl is obviously talented with an iPhone camera. And besides, that night was one of the best nights of my life. Now I have evidence of it. I download the pictures for later. I think to show Armin, but he is driving and my dalliance with Eren is a sore subject.

Back at Fereinhaus, the crew is gathered around the living room in a pool of lamp light. Their faces glow white with the light of phone screens.

"I got something," says Connie leaning towards Historia on the couch.

She glances at his screen. She shakes her head. "That closed last fall after that roofie scandal with the staff."

"What are y'all doing?" I ask, depositing the remnants of our currywurst and frites into the garbage.

"Researching nightlife," says Eren from where he lies on his stomach on the floor in a white tee and green basketball shorts. "What'r'y'all doinnn," he drawls in that Texas accent he so loves.

Reiner lies alongside the coffee table on his back, splinted and slinged, arm lying stiffly across his stomach. Eren's confidence and ease disturbs me. My stomach turns.

"We went for a drive," Armin offers from behind the fridge door as he takes another bottle of mineral water.

"Oh. Cool. There's dinner in the dining room," Eren adds, looking down at his phone.

"We ate," says Armin.

"Oh," Eren mouths.

Armin settles onto the couch with an aerated groan. He kicks his feet onto Connie's lap, rests his head on the arm.

"Christ, you look awful," says Eren, his green eyes alight.

Someone's in good mood.

"Thanks," Armin mutters. Adjusting his head and smacking his lips.

"You look gorgeous," says Connie, clapping Armin on the shin.

"Thanks Con." He exhales.

I step between Eren and Reiner. Eren follows me with his gaze until I sit down on the far end of the couch. Then he looks back at Armin.

"What about the grotto," suggests Reiner.

"The grotto? You mean the place where you have to check your clothes at the door?" Eren double checks.

"Yeah," Reiner's voice is warm. "Remember when we went there over fall break year ten?" He turns his head sideways to look at Eren. He drops his voice to a softer tone I had not yet heard from him. "We got high and fell in love with that Spanish girl, and you said it was the best night of your life."

I look down at my phone and open X, reading words without processing them while I continue to eavesdrop.

Eren scoffs. "I fell in love with the Spanish girl. You just wanted to watch me."