Our eyes lock. His eyes try to communicate with me words his mouth doesn’t utter.
“I’m so sorry about the last time… when you saw me drunk. I haven’t had a drop of alcohol since then. The image of you telling me that you can’t be with me has been messing with my head a lot. I don’t want to be like my dad, who even to this day drinks more than necessary. When he got very drunk, he was the most violent to my mom.”
Victor shakes his head as if to shake off the unwanted memories, but I know the memories won’t go anywhere. They are fixed within us.
He can use them to do something better with his life.
“I don’t want to be a trigger for your bad memories about your family,” he says.
At that moment I understand Victor a little more. The connection between us solidifies.
“I embraced the violence I experienced at home. I use it in my fighting. But you despise it and you’re scared of it.”
I reach for his hand and pull it out of his pocket. We intertwine fingers, and he smiles warmly. I realize how similar we are in our past experiences, and how different we are in the way we reacted to those events.
“If I have to, I’ll see a therapist or join a group to make sure I get rid of the drinking habit. I don’t want to be like that. Because of you. Because I want you to feel free to choose me, to feel free to be safe.”
My heart melts. Can he be any more perfect and flawed at the same time?
We’ve arrived in front of the building. I lift on tiptoes and kiss Victor’s soft lips. He gives me the widest smile.
Before I can step away from him, Victor pulls me by my waist and my body molds against his.
* * *
Ifind my seat at the top of the auditorium. Thirty or forty students are spread out in the large room. The professor walks in and starts the lecture, but my mind drifts. Victor’s words replay in my head. Instead of taking notes, I’m doodling on the back of my notebook. What feels like five minutes later, I vaguely detect the professor’s voice letting the class go and I place my notebook in my backpack. As I’m rummaging through it on the floor, my eyes spot black male shoes next to my running shoes.
“Hello,” a deep male voice says, probably belonging to the owner of the shoes.
As my eyes lift, my heart stops working. The dark gray pants, the blue dress shirt. The clean-shaven, handsome guy in front of me. How’s this possible?
“I’m Carter.” His smile is wide and slightly elusive at the same time.
This guy must have walked out of my dream board.Is he real?I almost stretch my hand to touch him. He does exist. I’m breathless, my mouth hanging open desperately trying to inhale air. I try to recover so I don’t look like a total idiot.
“You’re Tia, right?”
He extends his hand, and I stare at it. He must be real. He’s moving. Speaking. Now’s my chance to touch him. My fingers tremble and I stretch my hand to take his, but no electricity runs through me.Interesting. Not the same way as when Victor touches me.
“Sorry. How do you know my name?”
“The professor called it.”
Of course she did. I want to disappear. He probably thinks I’m the stupidest person in the classroom.
I have to tell Abi the dude from my dream board is an actual living and breathing person. She won’t believe it.
“Are you a sophomore? I haven’t seen you around, and I’m pretty sure I would have noticed such an attractive woman.”
I almost faint. Good thing I’m still sitting.
“Freshman. I tested at a higher level for math.”
“Impressive.”
I laugh nervously. Carter has a unique charm, but I’m not drawn to him the same way as I am to Victor. There’s something powerful that pulls me to Victor.
I stand up and pick up my backpack. Carter is a few inches taller than me.
