They’d said that this was...
What had they said? Exactly? What had Shiloh said?
That their timing was bad. That they couldn’t be together if they weren’t going tobetogether.
But she was so happy. She was clearly happy. And affectionate. She kept touching him and kissing him. Everything was so easy.
There were moments—hours—when it felt like they’d finally arrived, like they’d finally made their way to each other. Like all their previous interactions had finally clicked together in a sensible way. Wasn’t this where Shiloh and Cary had been heading all along?
And even though they’d said—Shiloh had said—that this wouldn’t work and couldn’t happen, it clearlywasworking. Itwashappening.
They couldn’t undo it now.
They couldn’t know how good they were together and pretend otherwise.
“I love you,” Shiloh kept saying between kisses. “I love you, Cary.”
An hour before Cary had to get on a bus, he went down to the men’s floor to take a shower.
When he got back, Shiloh had showered and changed, and she was making her bed.
“I found one of your socks,” she said, “and now I’m worried that something else might be missing. You only have six socks, right? Total?”
“I have six pairs. I’ll be fine.”
She kept cleaning and straightening. She seemed upset.
Cary was upset, too. He sat on her roommate’s bed, watching her. Not sure what to say. He didn’t know how he was supposed to walk away from her.
“I can get phone calls now,” he said.
Shiloh laughed harshly. That hurt for a second, but then he saw that she was trying not to cry.
She wanted to walk to the bus stop with him. It was a couple of blocks away.
“I never gave you that tour of campus,” she said.
“I saw what I came to see,” Cary said.
Shiloh laughed again, less horribly.
When they got to the bus stop, they turned to each other. There was no telling how much time they had left before the bus would get there.
“Shiloh,” he said, “I need you to be serious for a minute.”
“I know.” She couldn’t look at him.
“This weekend...”
She lifted her chin. “Cary,” she said. “This doesn’t have to be...anything.”
“It’s alreadysomething.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t have to be. It could just be an island of good. For us.”
“An island?”
“I know how you are, about honor and obligation. And I’m just— I’m setting you free, okay? You don’t owe me anything. This was just one great weekend between friends. You know what I mean?”
