Our eyes catch. We’ve texted a few times since the con, and I am honestly happy to see him, but it all feels so complicated now with Rafael.
“Can I walk with you both?” I ask. Even if my emotions are twisted up, I don’t want to act like a jerk.
“Of course,” Milo answers brightly. The campus is bustling as we turn to walk down the long sidewalk. “Davis was just telling me about the research project he’s running,” he adds.
Davis chuckles. “I’m not exactly running it.”
I arch my eyebrows, impressed. “You helped design the research, though?”
“We’re trying to use some new smart materials in making robotic tools. It requires a whole team, but yeah, I did propose the primary project.”
Some birds chirp as we pass a big stone building. I can tell Davis is being modest, but he’s clearly even more successful than I realized at first.
“I’d love to design my own research,” Milo says. “I’m lucky, though. I’m on an amazing team right now, and I’m working with flowers. A lot of my classmates can’t even land a gig in their specialty.”
“I always think I’ll design my own research project sometime,” I say. “But the archive gives our spots to outside researchers, so I don’t know if it will happen.”
Davis smiles at me. “You’d be good. I love listening to you talk about the archives.”
Milo nods. “You’re one of Joey’s favorite historians.”
I’m flattered by their compliments, but I almost fall on my face when Davis holds my eye, then winks. Milo doesn’t seem to notice, though, and the conversation quickly rolls on despite how flustered I am.
Even with how distant I am, he hasn’t totally given up on me. I guess that’s good?
“I’ve been using this new coffee shop to work early in the mornings,” Davis says, addressing us both. “It’s perfectly quiet, and I can always get some of my own work done there before meeting up with the team at the lab. You both should join me some time, give a little attention to your own projects.”
Milo laughs and rubs the back of his head. “I’m trying to find more time away from work, but if I hit another busy period and need a new spot, I’ll hit you up for sure.”
“Yeah,” I offer half-heartedly. “That could be nice.”
We finish the walk, and I’m left confused. Getting up extra early to work on my own research project sounds really nice, actually. So much about Davis’s life appeals to me, but when we part ways, we don’t make specific plans to see each other again. We just hug and say something about talking soon.
He’s waiting for me to make a move, I know. And I should. If I were dating Davis and spending all my time with him, I probably would be motivated enough to plan my own research projects and hit new highs with my career. My friends already like him, and we have a million things in common, but even when I lay all the facts out in my mind, I hesitate at the edge of wanting more.
Not until after my fling with Rafael.
I’ll crash when the fling is over, but once I pick myself up again, maybe then I’ll be able to open my heart to what Davis offers. Or at least that’s what I tell myself as I leave campus.
By the time I get back to the apartment after work, I’m so excited to see Rafael, my other worries have faded away. We’re in the middle of our fling, this miracle where I get to kiss him and hold him, even if just for a few weeks.
I’m not going to let anything distract me from that.
When I open the door, Rafael greets me, waiting there with a kiss.
Something is different with him. His hair is freshly combed back, he’s wearing the jeans that hug his ass, and he keeps smiling at me from behind his glasses. Rafael kisses me again in the living room and strokes my arm, flirting.
Research projects might normally excite me, but in Rafael’s arms, work seems like a distant memory.
“I want to do something nice for you,” he tells me. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Oh.” I’m surprised when he takes my hand, and he keeps smiling, which makes the tingles start behind my chest.
He walks, pulling me with him. “I remembered this one time, a few years ago, we were talking about butt stuff, and you told me how nervous you were about cleanliness.”
“Right,” I say cautiously, then laugh. “But don’t call it butt stuff.”
He turns and catches my eye. “Butt fun?” he teases.
