“Where’s your laptop?”I ask, looking around for it.It’s not on the counter where I last remember seeing it, and now that I look around the living area, it’s completely clutter-free.The books that usually live stacked on the side table have been neatly tucked into the built-in shelves framing the television, and the Lego project I was in the middle of at the coffee table has been corralled onto a tray, the unused pieces sorted into neat little rows.
His eyes follow mine, and he winces.“Sorry, I didn’t mean to touch your stuff, I just—”
“It’s okay,” I assure him.“The way you organized the pieces will probably make it easier to finish, so thank you.”
He flashes a tentative smile, and it settles something deep in my chest.
“Laptop?”I prompt again.
“I put it in my room,” he says, although he makes no move to retrieve it.
“Do you want me to get it?”
He shakes his head and slips his hands out of mine, though he seems reluctant to.“No, I’ll do it.”
Once he’s out of the room, I can take a moment to ground myself.The smell of cleaning supplies is still burning in my nose, and the prickly feeling that my damp socks and the knees of my jeans are leaving on my skin has officially gotten to the point I can’t ignore it.I don’t have time to change, but I can at least take care of the sock problem.I peel them off and dash to my room to toss them in just as Parker comes out of his room with his sticker-covered computer tucked under his arm.
“Oh,” he exclaims, stopping short of bumping into me.
“I, uh, wet socks,” I say, gesturing awkwardly into my room.
He frowns.“Shit, sorry, I—”
“No, don’t apologize.It’s okay,” I tell him.
He nods, and we head back down to the kitchen island.He sits, and I stand behind him as he pulls up his student portal, logs in, and navigates to the section where his final grades are posted.However, he doesn’t click on it.The cursor just hovers over the menu option.
“You can do this.”
I was aiming for reassuring, but clearly, I missed the mark because he violently shakes his head.
“It’s okay.You can take your time,” I tell him.
“I can’t,” he says, his voice cracking.
Without consciously deciding to, my hand finds his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.In a flash, he covers it with his own, like he’s anchoring it there.
He looks back up at me.“Can you do it?”
“You want me to look at your grades for you?”I ask, needing to clarify.He trusts me to do this for him?I wouldn’t trust myself to be the person giving important news, especially if it’s bad.Not that I think it will be bad news, but if it is, I’m not confident I’d be able to deliver it gently.But he looks up at me over his shoulder and gives me a small, pleading nod.So I take a quick breath to steady my secondhand nerves and sit next to him.
He slides the computer over, then pivots in his seat to face me.I click on the menu option for grades, hyperaware of Parker’s eyes on me.The screen loads, and I scan over the letters next to each course, a wave of relief passing over me with each grade.He passed—better than passed.He got straight A’s.I knew he could do it; he worked so hard the entire semester.There was hardly a moment when he didn’t have a textbook on his lap while we watched TV together in the evenings, which may annoy some people, but I’m content to exist in a room with someone without actually interacting with them.But despite my confidence in him, I wasn’t able to help getting swept up in the pure anxiety radiating off of him when I came into the apartment.
But he did it, and I couldn’t be prouder.
“Well?”
When I look up, he’s chewing on his bottom lip.But before I can tell him to stop before he makes himself bleed again, he continues.
“Did I pass?”
“If you consider straight A’s passing,” I say, unable to stop myself from being a little sarcastic.Usually my sarcasm amuses him, which I figure he might need at the moment.
He doesn’t laugh, though.Or even roll his eyes.He just looks at me in shock.“Are you serious?I got straight A’s?”
I nod and gesture at the laptop.“Do you want to see for yourself?”
He leans toward me, nearly out of his seat, so he can see the evidence of his hard work himself.At least, that’s what I assume until his arms are around me.
