CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
D mitri
I hang up the phone and turn to Oskar. “I’m meeting with immigration tomorrow. They’re squeezing me in. Apparently, they’re aware of the media attention and want to get this over with too.”
“Oh.” His eyes go round. “Then we’ll know.”
“Is fine,” I say.
“Absolutely,” he echoes too quickly.
I nod sharply, but the room tilts. The couch seems to have drifted miles away.
Oskar slips his arm around my waist because he is amazing and always knows what I want.
I collapse onto the expensive leather. For a moment, I remember the nights I collapsed on the couch with overnight guests who were not Oskar.
I press my face into my hands.
“What’s wrong?”
“Just thinking about all the wasted years. All the time I could have been with you.”
“Oh.” He blinks.
“I’m sorry. I know you were busy being a student and everything for two of those years. I know you probably wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with me—”
He launches himself into my lap, making me laugh in surprise. His hands frame my face. “Of course I would have wanted you. I would never have ignored you. You are the most incredible man—”
I laugh. “You trying to make me happy, Baby?”
“I’m being truthful,” he huffs.
I wrap my arms around him before he can move away or do something ridiculous like suggest cooking dinner.
“There’s a chance I won’t make it through tomorrow,” I tell him. “Vince says I should prepare for that.”
“But you might.”
“Yeah. Hope so. You know what I’ll miss most if I have to leave?”
He inhales sharply.
“You, baby. More than anything.”
“More than hockey? The city? Your whole life here?”
“More than all of it.”
His eyes glisten. “I’ll miss you so much. I don’t want you to leave. I-I—”
He cuts himself off. I think I know what he wanted to say.
I take his hands in mine. “If I don’t pass, they want me out by tomorrow night.”
“What? Why so fast?”
“Apparently, I’m bad publicity for the whole immigration system now.”
“Oh.” He leans back against my chest, pulling my arms tighter around him.
I don’t tell him I should probably start packing, that Vince suggested boxing up my life. What’s the point? My furniture stays. My clothes can be thrown in a suitcase if it comes to that.
And though I don’t tell it to Oskar, there is a high chance that the worst will happen. The US immigration system will want to show people that it takes immigration violations seriously, and why shouldn’t they? I don’t know how persuadable the immigration officers will be under national pressure.
Still, there’s a chance. There’s hope.
“What does this mean?” Oskar asks.
“Probably that we should order takeout, so we don’t waste any time cooking.”
Oskar lets out an astonished laugh, and my heart warms. His laugh is the best sound. Not strictly speaking the most melodic sound. But definitely the nicest sound in the world all the same.
Because all I want is for him to be happy.
“We can still keep in touch if you leave,” he says.
“Yeah, internet’s pretty amazing.”
“Hey! I would have written you letters.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. Instead, you’ll get video calls.”
I stroke his waist, memorizing the exact weight of him in my lap, the precise way he fits against me.
“You’ll still want to talk to me?” my voice wavers.
He stiffens. “You’re my best friend, Dmitri.”
“Yeah. Same.” My voice is husky, and his body radiates tension.
Best friend doesn’t feel like enough. But I asked him to marry me before I thought to ask him for a date? How can I tell him that I want to keep seeing him in every romantic sense? When what I have to offer him is so much less than before?
Would he say yes out of a sense of duty or obligation? Propriety?
Maybe.
Oskar is good at rule following. Not everyone can get into Harvard, and even those who do don’t always succeed.
Why would he want to be with some jock who tarnished his reputation? Who doesn’t have a job? Who is not even allowed to be in the same country as him?
My heartbeat quickens, and I press kisses onto the side of his neck until he’s moaning, and my cock is raging, and thoughts are more of an abstract concept than something I’m actively having.