I can hear him scrambling off the bed and his footsteps padding across the hard, tiled floor.
The door opens wide, and I’m greeted by mussed brown hair, like he’s spent the last forty-five minutes since he texted me running his fingers through it. His brown eyes are wide and framed by the dark lashes that I love to stare at when he’s sitting across from me. His lips are swollen and more pink than normal, hopefully because he’s been nibbling on his bottom lip like he usually loves to do and not because of Thomas.
“Hey, I wasn’t expecting you.”
“That wasn’t a very warm welcome.” His cheeks flush, and the rosy color looks nice against his tanned skin.
“I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Yeah, you said that already.” I smile at him, and his lips tip up, tentatively. “You were complaining about an assignment, and I figured you could use some help.” Or a distraction, but I don’t say that out loud.
“Oh, right. Right.” He clears his throat and nods his head, still blocking the door so I can’t walk in. “I guess I could use some help.”
“Are you going to move over so I can come in, or do you want to work on it right here?” I gesture with my hand to the doorframe.
“Here’s fine. Here’s great.”
He finally steps aside and lets me into the room. I’ve never been inside, and there’s a clear difference in which side is Hunter’s and which side is his asshole roommates. Hunter’s is organized; his desk is cleared off except for a pencil holder filled with pens of varying colors.
Charcoal drawings are taped on his walls, dark shades and light spaces cover the pages. The lifelike drawings make my fingers twitch, wanting to reach out and trace my fingertips across the art. People laughing with their eyes crinkled in the corners. Shadowed faces. Abstract lines formed to create a tree line that mirrors the one from Hunter’s hometown.
“Wow,” I murmur to myself, once again shocked into silence by the complexity of him. He never gives himself enough credit.
“So, I’m having a problem with this text. The professor assigned us all a story to read and examine. It’s easy enough to read and understand, but I just… have mixed feelings.” He sits at his desk, twiddling with his pen and tapping it against his upper lip.
“What’s it about?” I draw my gaze away from his art and sit on the end of the bed, closest to his desk.
“It’s called The Lady, or The Tiger.” Thank fuck, it’s actually something I know about because I read it in high school and quite liked it. I’m surprised it’s in the college curriculum, though.
“I’ve read it. What are you having problems with?” My favorite part of English class was reading and trying to findthe deeper details embedded in the text. Authors can write one thing, and every person who reads it can interpret it a different way.
He taps his pen harder against his lip, digging the tip until it leaves behind a small indentation beside his scar.
Hunter sits in silence, and I wait for him to put together his thoughts so I can know what he needs help with.
“What do you think she chose?” he finally asks, putting the pen down and pulling my thoughts away from his mouth.
“Personally, I think she chose the woman.”
“Why?” The story comes to me in bits, and the overall question was,would you rather watch the love of your life be happy with someone else, or be dead?Which aren’t the greatest options. But it’s a quick death for the man versus a slow one for the woman. I think of her constantly being in pain, feeling her heart break day after day, watching her beloved move on with someone else. Someone who isn’t her, just because her dad doesn’t approve.
I think of my life, watching Hunter and Thomas constantly together. Holding hands and sharing food at restaurants. The constant knife in my chest, carving away a sliver of my heart at a time. But I know that I would rather have him around me in any way that I can, rather than never have him at all.
I’ll have to keep stealing these small moments and protecting them from being destroyed.
“Because there would be nothing left for her to live for if her true love was gone.”
“But could you honestly argue that?” Yes, yes I absolutely could. Because I made the same decision when I chose to back off from Hunter and let him live the life he thinks he needs. When the day comes for him to come back, I’ll be waiting patiently with my arms wide open because he’s it for me. I wouldchoose this over and over again, as long as I get the chance to have him.
When he looks at me, I don’t know what my eyes are saying, but he stands up, hesitantly walking around the corner of his bed to come stand in front of me. The top of his head barely meets my chin from my raised position. The angle is perfect for me, though, to look down and see the soft swoop of his dark eyelashes every time he blinks, covering his beautiful brown eyes from me for milliseconds at a time. It still feels too long.
My body gravitates toward his, and I tilt my head down until our noses rub together, the soft, sweet motion causing an ache to form in my chest. Being this close to him and not being able to keep him is agony.
“You would rather see the person you love happy with someone else. As long as they’re still living and breathing. Knowing that you may never get the chance to love them again.” My whole body hurts at his words, because this moment is careening us toward our end before I’m ready for it. I’ll never be ready to let him go. “That’s not very selfish of you,” he whispers, his eyes closed. But he rubs the tip of his nose against mine again. My eyes are wide as I stare at him, refusing to miss a moment of this. His cheeks are rosy, flushing beautifully. He was made to be displayed, like a cherub in a church, so everyone can admire his beauty.
“I don’t want to be selfish,” I reply. His body shudders, and he leans in closer until our chests touch. The rise and fall of his lungs reacting with my own, when his rises, mine falls. Like the sun and the moon in orbit, both knowing they’re there, but never being able to see or touch. Having that constant bond with someone and never being able to act on it, because it would destroy the world as we know it.
Kiss me,I plead, longing and desperation warring in my body with the need to feel his lips on mine. To know that even if wego right back to being friends, and he goes back to his boyfriend, and I go back to my girlfriend, in this moment, we are real.
