I slipped off my shoes, tucking my leg underneath me on the sofa. “Do you have champagne?”
“For once, I actually do.”
“Sorry I didn’t bring anything.”
He returned from the kitchen with wine and a canned beer. “You’re good. It was last minute.”
Flopping on the sofa, he lifted an arm over its back. T-shirt slouching off him, neck muscles tightening when the beer went down. Even on the opposite end of the couch, he felt too close.
“So,” I said. “Why are you alone tonight?”
“I wasn’t in the mood to go out.”
I realized I was going to have to be more direct. “Where’s Nia?”
“New York.”
I marveled at the kind of woman who abandoned her boyfriend on New Year’s Eve and just went to New York. I pictured her sporting a fur coat in Times Square, Technicolor lights flashing across her face. I felt a shiver of guilt. Jay’s face, open and vulnerable, thumbs catching my tears. I looked at my phone. Still nothing.
“Why didn’t you go with her?” I asked.
Tristan paused. “We’re kind of in a weird place right now.” He added, “Also, have you been to New York? It’s cold as fuck.”
He turned the TV on. I half expected CNN to be playing. He asked what I wanted to watch. I said I didn’t know, so we just stared in silence as he scrolled through endless streaming options. Eventually he gave up and got another beer.
His back still to me, he said, “When do I get to read your novel?”
“Never.”
“C’mon. Really?”
“Deadass.”
He returned to the couch, sitting closer.
“When do I get to read your dissertation?”
“I dunno, like I said, like, six years. I might be dead by then though.”
“What do you wanna do after school? I never asked.”
“Teach.”
I smiled. “Really?”
“What? I don’t look like a professor to you?” He swiveled his neck to flash me his ironic Patrick Star tattoo, drawn with a child’s wobbly hand.
“No.”
He laughed. “Seriously, you can ask Jay.”
I could tell we both felt uncomfortable. He reached down to lift his pant leg and scratched his ankle.
“We’re actually on a break.”
If he felt anything about this, he didn’t show it. “Damn. I’m sorry.”
“I mean, maybe it’s not a real break.”
