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I cut myself off before my words can run too far ahead of me. It’s a beautiful vision, a tempting future, and Avery’s eyes shine with the same longing that burns in my chest. Itisthe future, however, and not the present. In the present, I’m their TA, and the last thing I should be doing is spending the entire day in their house touching them in every way I can think of.
Heat dances across Avery’s cheeks. If my skin was as pale as theirs, I’m sure I’d be glowing too. I have to swallow before I continue.
“I want to spend more time with you,” I say. “But I also should be cautious about this. Just for now.”
“I know,” Avery says. “I understand.”
It’s difficult to let go of their hands, difficult to step away and put a breath of space between us. Not merely because of their stunning body. I’ve never been with a non-binary person, but that hasn’t mattered to me at all.I’m drawn to every aspect of Avery, their body, the way they dress, their long, silky hair, but perhaps most of all their mind, the way we can talk about our field for the entire day and never run out of topics, the passion that shines through as we discuss heavy concepts, the brilliance burgeoning in their mind. I could spend the whole day working on essays for my classes beside them and it would seem like the greatest day of my life.
But I can’t do those things today. I’ve given in, conceded to my attraction, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to act like a fool. There’s still a risk — a significant risk. I would much rather wait and do this right than risk too much in the heat of the moment and lose it all.
I check my pockets to make sure I have my phone and keys. Then Avery walks me downstairs. They poke their head out of the door, but the neighborhood is quiet. Even if university students live on this block, they likely went out partying last night. There isn’t so much as a person walking a dog waiting for me outside.
I linger at the door, kissing Avery a few more times before I force myself to let them go.
“Can we do this again?” Avery asks. The hope in their voice digs claws into my gut.
“Yes,” I say.
“When?”
“I don’t know. Soon, I think. When it’s safe.”
“How will we know it’s safe?” Avery asks.
“We just have to wait, make sure no one noticed us. If someone suspects something, I’m sure my department will bring it up. They wouldn’t wait around on a thing like that. So if they don’t say anything in the next few days or so…”
“Then I get to see you again?”
I nod, and Avery rises up on their tip toes to kiss me again.
“God, I hope we know soon,” they say.
My stomach lurches in sympathy. My whole body seems to rebel against leaving this house, but every second I waste makes it more likely for the wrong person to notice we walking home. I only allow myself one more peck before I finally drag myself out of the door.
I walk quickly, before temptation can drag me back. It isn’t super early, but October encases the morning in quiet and coolness. If my blood wasn’t running so hot today, I might be cold, but instead I walk swiftly down the sidewalk, mostly heedless of the temperature as I replay the past night and morning.
In spite of the danger, I can’t help smiling to myself. I took a bigger leap than when I drove hundreds of miles away from home to attend grad school out here, but I’m not as scared as I probably should be. Letting go last night broke down some barrier inside me. Maybe I’ll come to regret it. Maybe someone saw us leaving the club. Maybe someone is noticing me walking home and coming to the obvious conclusion. But I’m still flying too high to stressabout it.
That is so weird.
This entire time, I’ve been freaking out over this, but the moment I gave in it all lifted off of me like throwing off a heavy jacket. I’m sensible enough to be cautious, but I’m not checking over my shoulder anymore.
I float home, so unburdened that I almost miss the package waiting at the door of my apartment. I nearly trip over it, then scoop it up to bring it inside with me.
Leo isn’t home. Maybe he had a good night as well. Maybe he simply came home, slept peacefully and headed to the library on a day when it’ll be mostly deserted.
I toss my keys on the counter and check out the package. My heart thuds when I see my parents’ address on the box. I tear into it, prying it open frantically, already guessing what might be inside.
A package of fudge awaits me. Not just any fudge, either. This is the good stuff from the farm down the road. Mr. Hart guards his homemade fudge recipe as jealously as a dragon guarding its gold, but no one back home is all that eager to bother him for the specifics. The stuff is so good that the town nearly breaks out into a brawl when a new batch comes out. You can’t go to a birthday or funeral or graduation or wedding without encountering this fudge. Mom and Dad had to get there fast to snag some to send me.
Tears sting the backs of my eyes. I hug the fudge to my chest, way too overcome by this fatty treat. It’s just fudge,I tell myself, but my heart knows better. It’s home. It’s comfort. It’s everything I know and miss and want to go back to. Maybe it’s everything I never should have left. Am I really cut out for being here if I immediately fell for a student?
“Oh God, what am I doing?” I groan out loud, sinking to the cool linoleum of the floor with the fudge clutched to my chest.
A piece of me wants to call my parents right now and confess the whole thing to them; a larger piece of me is terrified of hearing judgment in their voices. I’m their baby boy, the first one to take my education to such a high level, the one they brag about at parties. And I’m letting them down so I can have something I want.
I call them anyway, and thankfully my mother answers on the first ring.
