But a couple of weeks ago, when I asked him if he’d move here next semester, he just said, “It’s not the time to talk about this.”
Then when is the time?
Tonight. I’ll have to make him say he’ll move. While I’m fine with being in a secret relationship, I can’t take these weekend rendezvous any longer.
Even Cy noticed I’m grumpiest on Sunday evenings. And yes, Cy knows about where I disappear to every weekend. He stopped nagging, though, seeming kind of busy lately, and that has everything to do with the “ghost” from his past that he’s been looking everywhere for.
And if I’m correct, that ghost is a nerdy-looking man in his early thirties who I caught Cy stalking in the local library. When I asked him about it, Cy just smiled maniacally, which is bad news for the dude. Great news for me, though, because Cy has little time to nag me, and he seems to have lost hope that I’ll give up on Vaughn. I could be ninety and knocking on Satan’s door and would probably not stop pursuing him.
Despite everything in my past, Vaughn is the only person who makes me like myself when I’m with him. He accepts me exactly as I am, and somehow, I make him laugh. The perpetual grump who once glared at me for sport now smiles and laughs more than anyone else around me.
I did thatis all I can think when he bursts out laughing about some random thing I say or do.
I like to think he’s himself in my presence as well. Only difference is that he’ll always be more guarded around me.
When I arrive at the house’s front door, I’m humming while removing my helmet. The afternoon air blows through my hair as I check my phone since this is around the time he’ll text me that he’s taking off.
I grin when I find the text, but it soon drops when I read it.
Mishka
Can’t make it this weekend. I have to attend the opening of a private art gallery with my parents. Sorry for the late notice.
Me
Are you serious right now? You already only come around on weekends, and now youcan’t make it?
I come around EVERY weekend, Yulian. One won’t kill you. Besides, all the traveling is depleting my energy.
Will I be seeing you once a month now?
I didn’t say that. I’m just pointing out that I’m flying too much.
You wouldn’t have to fly too much if you’d just switched schools, but you won’t do that, because, even now, you’re still putting fucking distance between us.
It’s just this weekend, okay?
Not okay. Come over, or I’ll do something you won’t like. Like calling my contacts who have the time for me.
Threaten me with other people again, and I’m ending this arrangement. Are we clear? Don’t be childish.
Yulian…don’t piss me off. Answer me.
You might have gotten the idea that I’ll let you do whatever the fuck you want because I like you and want you and have an incurable crush on you, but I’m not a toy you can discard whenever you wish.
When the fuck did I say you were a toy? Are you picking a fight on purpose?
Yulian…don’t shut me out like this. It’s just a weekend. I promise. I’ll make it up to you, okay, baby?
It’s not just about aweekend.
It never was.
Since Vaughn wasn’table to make it, I caught a plane. A private jet—Cy’s, to be more specific—and that’s how I found myself in New York City.
More accurately, at the gallery opening Vaughn talked about.
Listen, I don’t know how Cy got the details or even procured me an invitation, but he’s a bro’s bro and a genius, which is all that matters.
