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“Hey.”
His guarded tone withers some of my excitement at seeing him. It’s only been two days, but I was hoping to get more from him after the way we left things on Sunday. He opened up so much to me. What could have happened since he walked out my door to make him shut down again?
“Studying?” I say.
“Yeah.” He waves at the books and laptop around him.
“Me too. I mean, I’ve been here for a while, but I was studying. I was working on the research project for your class, actually.”
“You don’t need to be working on that already. It’s only October.”
“I know, but I want to. Whenever I have free time I do a little bit on it. That way I won’t have to stress out at theend of the semester. It’s not all that often I have free time between classes and the café.”
“And you just happen to have free time right now,” Diego says.
“Hey, I was here first,” I point out. “You’re the one who showed up to my study session.”
“I didn’t sit at your table,” Diego says, but a hint of a smile tugs at his mouth.
I roll my eyes. “No, but you could have. You don’t have to run away like you don’t even know me.”
“Don’t I?”
The question hangs between us. I take the seat across from him. The door is closed, but I lower my voice anyway.
“It’s been two days, Diego. No one has said anything. We’re fine.”
“Two days isn’t that long.”
“I think it’s long enough to know if the whole department is having a meltdown over an illicit…”
I almost said relationship, but bit it back just in time. This isn’t a relationship, obviously. It’s one hookup and a lot of making out and longing. Not that it couldn’t be a relationship. I could have spent all of Sunday working on essays while Diego sat there reading in my living room. I could have done all those normal, couple-y things without a bit of hesitation. But he had to go. He had to play it safe. And I understand, but I’m about at my breaking point when it comes to “safe.”
Diego sighs. Before he can tell me why we shouldn’t even sit in a library together, I cut in.
“I understand why you need to be careful,” I say. “I do. But do you really think it’s fair to treat me like a stranger?”
Diego’s warm brown eyes watch me. Something moves in his jaw as he chews over his response.
“No,” he says. “But it’s still dangerous for me to spend too much time around you on campus. I like you too much. It’s going to be obvious.”
All of my frustration deflates in a rush. Diego really needs to stop doing this. Ever since Saturday night, he’s been casually lobbing out these declarations like they’re nothing. He’s so blunt that he could be describing the weather, but hearing him say, again, that he really does like me almost rocks me out of my chair. How can he simultaneously be so forthright and so withdrawn?
“And,” Diego goes on. It takes me a second to pull myself back into the conversation. “And I’m … I’m not sure how much I belong here. I don’t know if I’m cut out for a place like this. I want to get my degree, but I miss home. I miss my small town. I miss the crappy gay bar and the fudge shop and my parents’ house. I don’t want to promise you things I’m not actually sure I can give you.”
Just like that, any surge of joy I might have felt drops away as my stomach plummets into my shoes.
“You’re leaving?” I say.
“No. Not right now. I have to at least give it a semester,right? But after that … I’m not sure.”
“You’re not sure? Don’t you want your grad degree? What’s the point of all this if you don’t even finish?”
Diego is looking down at the table, refusing to meet my gaze. The air in the study room suddenly seems thinner, and I can’t get enough of it into my lungs.
“You can’t just give up,” I say. “You worked so hard for this. You said yourself that there aren’t enough people in your field. How can you throw this away so easily?”
“I’m not throwing anything away,” Diego says. “I just … don’t belong here. This place is so different. Maybe it’s best if I do my work back home, where I belong.”
