“Being?”
I sighed. “I’ve only got a month left here,” I admitted after a second, my voice quieter than I meant it to be. “On my contract.”
He didn’t react right away.
“What happens after that?”
“I go back to California, I guess,” I said with a small shrug. “Unless something changes.”
“Do you want something to change?”
The question caught me off guard.
“I mean—yeah,” I said, laughing awkwardly. “Obviously. I’d love to stay longer. This place is amazing, and I came here expecting it’d be my new home. But that’s not really up to me.”
He was quiet again.
Thinking.
Or filing something away.
With Tobias, it was sometimes hard to tell the difference.
“You don’t think you’ll be offered a long-term position?” he asked.
“No… I wish, but…” My voice tapered off as I shrugged my shoulders.
“I see.”
I cringed internally, suddenly aware again that I was talking to a donor. That there were lines and rules. That I was probably already too close to breaking them most days without realizing it.
“So,” I said quickly, trying to redirect, “what brings you over here today? Just visiting the galleries again?”
“Yes.” Then he added, “I was hoping to find you.”
My brain stalled for about half a second.
“Oh.” That came out smaller than I meant it to.
“You weren’t on the floor earlier,” he continued. “I inferred you might be assigned here during the afternoon lull.”
“You were looking for me?” I repeated before I could stop myself.
“Yes.”
Yes.
Something warm and nervous and confusing filled my chest.
“Oh,” I said again.
Tobias studied me for a moment after that, then asked, “Have you given any more thought to my offer?”
My stomach tightened instantly.
Oh.
Right.
