It seems impossible to be uncertain over my acceptance when this is all I thought I ever wanted. But now there’s Alec and I want him too.
“I want you to do what’s right for you,” he says.
But before I can even think what that is, his lips pucker against my neck, and then more. His breath trails heat all the way to my collarbone, to my chest. His mouth is everywhere and I soften under his touch. My head fills with his scent. My body quivers.
“You want me, don’t you?” His words call to me from above the surface.
“Yes.” The word is hot liquid, a volcanic burst.
“More than anything?”
“Yes.” I close my eyes, my body heaved with anticipation. But his movements are off. His knee isn’t coaxing my legs apart. Where is the weight of him blanketing me? I come up for air, the world crashing into me with all its colors.
He releases my arms and the mattress buckles. Is he sitting up? My head swirls. What happened?
He throws his legs over the edge of the bed, fumbles for his boxers, and stands to stretch on his shirt.
I sit up, clutch the sheet to my chest. “Is something wrong?”
He hands me the slink of my dress and then slips on his own jeans. “No.” He sits on the bed next to me, hangs his head.
“Something just happened. What did I do?”
“You said you wanted me more than anything.”
“I do.”
He lifts his gaze then, his eyes red and stung. “Obviously, that’s not true. If it were . . .” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “We shouldn’t be doing this if we can’t be together. It’s not fair to either of us. I don’t think you love me the way I love you and”—his breath skips—“that kills me.”
I reach for his back, but it is rigid. He moves away.
How did we get here?
“Get dressed.” He taps my knee. “I should drive you home before my parents get back.”
In the tangle of sheets, I wriggle my dress over my head. I am a million miles away from him. No, I have pushed him a million miles away.
“Alec, please. I wish it could be different.”
“You have to do what makes you happy.”
God, he is such a better person than I am.
“Is it okay to tell you I love watching you dress? I’ll miss that if . . .” He looks away, trails off.
He’ll miss that . . .
. . . if I choose Boston over him
. . . if this is over for us now
. . . if I can’t love him as much as he loves me.
If I stay with him, he wants to watch me get dressed every day. Share an apartment. A life. Make me dinner before making love. Make love before falling asleep. Wake next to me.
It’s the same reality I dream of every day.
I find my bag and go to the bathroom. Staring in the mirror, my cheeks are still ruddy, flushed with want. How can I give this up? Alec is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Unexpected and perfect. Am I going to walk away because of bad timing?
He said it wouldn’t even be a choice for him. That it would have been me over Michigan if he were the one who had power over his academic choices. I pull the acceptance form from my bag and stare at it.
All the power I do have. Plans change, right? People change. I’ve seen it with my own parents. How could I know Alec would change my world the way he has? Maybe the future isn’t some distant dream but a series of changing choices. I flatten the paper against the vanity and sign the bottom, checking the appropriate boxes. I stare at the maroon logo one last time before licking the envelope. The paste tastes bitter, but there is something more—the excitement of the unknown.
“All set?” he asks when I exit the bathroom. He’s in the hallway, his blue fleece already on, another barrier between us.
“All set.”
The car has trapped bitter cold air and when he turns over the engine every inch of me wants to be back in his bed, between the sheets, connected in the energy we effortlessly brew together.
We drive through the sleeping neighborhood in silence, my bag propped on my lap.
Alec turns onto the main road. “Can I tell you something?” Brake lights blink at us from a car up ahead.
“Anything.” Always.
“I wish I were . . .” He hesitates. “I wish I were better or more than or something, you know?”
No. “What do you mean? You’re incredible.”
“If I could make you feel about me the way I feel about you. . . .” He slams at his steering wheel. “Fuck. I just don’t want to think about losing you. If we’re done, you know.”
I break at the thought of being without Alec. “I don’t want to be done.”
“I don’t want that either, but I can’t see a way to make it work.”