Chapter 18 #2
We didn’t get the win, but we salvaged respectability.
We came in third, mostly because Maya single-handedly swept the music category while Ryan and Javier stared blankly at the speakers.
Luke laughed more than I’d seen in weeks, the tension in his jaw finally loose, and every time the table cheered, his leg pressed harder against mine.
At one point, we held hands under the table.
At 9:30, Luke caught my eye. The subtle nod. The protocol.
“No early practice tomorrow, but I still need to hit the weight room before my last final,” he announced, standing up and grabbing his coat.
“Gross,” Javier sympathized.
“Austen, you heading out?” Luke asked, the script practiced.
“The library closes at ten,” I lied smoothly. “I need to return a reference book before the break.”
“Weak,” Ryan jeered, but he bumped fists with me anyway. “Good game, Lovell. Maya, you’re officially on the roster for next semester.”
“I’ll have my agent call you,” she deadpanned. “Actually, if you two don’t mind, I’ll hang out here for a little longer.”
“Cool,” Ryan said. “Be our guest.”
We said our goodbyes—casual, appropriate, nothing that would linger in anyone’s memory.
Outside, the December air was a shock, biting through my jacket and turning our breath into white plumes. The noise of the bar faded behind us. We walked in silence, maintaining a respectable distance until the shadows of Stony Creek Hall rose in the distance.
Only then, when we hit the blind spot beneath the old oak tree, did Luke’s hand find mine in the dark. His fingers laced through mine, warm and rough.
“That was fun. We had a good night,” he said, his voice dropping to that low register reserved for the dorm room.
“Acceptable night,” I corrected. “We could have performed better. Without Maya, we would have been far below average.”
He pulled me into the deeper shadow of the trunk, cutting off my analysis.
“Shut up about the math,” he murmured, and kissed me until I forgot about the statistics entirely.
Friday brought the question I’d been avoiding.
“Christmas break,” Luke said, tossing clothes into a duffel. “What’s your plan?”
I was at my desk, organizing notes for a January syllabus I didn’t need to review yet. “Stay here. Catch up on reading. The dining hall runs a reduced schedule, but there’s a microwave in the basement.”
He paused mid-fold. “You’re staying on campus. Alone. For three weeks.”
“It’s cost-effective.”
“It’s depressing.”
“I don’t celebrate Christmas. The isolation is irrelevant.”
He set down the duffel. Walked over. Sat on the edge of my desk, close enough that his knee pressed against my arm.
“Austen.”
“The room is already paid. A plane ticket to anywhere else would be—”
“I’m not asking about logistics.” His voice was soft. “I’m asking if you’re okay.”
I stared at my notes. The words blurred. “I’ve spent holidays alone before. It’s fine.”
“Fine isn’t okay.”
My phone buzzed before I could respond. Maya’s name on the screen.
Maya: Vermont. Christmas. My parents have a guest room. Say yes.
I read it twice. Luke read it over my shoulder.
“Say yes,” he said.
“I can’t just—”
“Yes, you can.” He took the phone from my hand, typed a response, and handed it back. Yes. Thank you.
“That was presumptuous,” I said.
“That was efficient.” He kissed my temple, quick and light. “You deserve an actual holiday. With people. And probably a fireplace.”
“Maya’s family has a fireplace?”
“I’m guessing… it’s Vermont.” He returned to his duffel. “Point is, you’re not sitting in an empty dorm eating microwave oatmeal or mushy mac-n-cheese while I’m in Jersey pretending my dad isn’t disappointed in everything I do. At least one of us should get a chance at being happy.”
I watched him pack. The tension had crept back into his shoulders at the mention of Jersey, the familiar armor reassembling.
“You could stay too,” I said. “Skip the trip.”
“Can’t. If I avoid him through another holiday, the voicemails will get worse.” He zipped the bag with more force than necessary. “Three weeks. We text. We call. We survive. If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll send you some shirtless pics.”
“Only if they’re headless. Aren’t all sexy pictures sent by gay men headless? But honestly, survival seems like a low threshold.”
He looked at me, and the armor slipped just enough to show what was underneath. “It’s the only one I’ve got.”
Saturday morning, we said goodbye.
His bus left at seven. Maya wasn’t picking me up until noon, but I woke with him anyway, watching him move through the dark room by muscle memory. Toothbrush, deodorant, phone charger.
At 6:40, he stood by the door with his duffel over one shoulder.
“Three weeks,” he said.
“Twenty-one days. Five hundred four hours. Thirty thousand—”
He crossed the room and kissed me. Not quick this time. Not careful.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine.
“I’ll miss you,” he said. “You have no idea how much I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too.” The words felt strange in my mouth—too simple for the weight they carried. “Text when you arrive.”
“Promise.”
One more kiss, briefer, then he was gone. The door clicked shut. His footsteps faded down the hall.
I sat on his bed. It still smelled like him. The chess set was packed in my bag for Vermont, and the pea bags were restocked in the freezer. The room was exactly as he’d left it except for the absence that filled every corner.
I pulled out my phone. No messages yet—he probably wasn’t even out of the building yet.
I typed anyway.
Me: Safe travels. The probability of bus-related incidents is statistically negligible, but I wanted to note that I hope you arrive without complications.
Three dots appeared.
Luke: That might be the nerdiest “I love you” I’ve ever seen.
I stared at the screen. My heart stopped, restarted, stopped again.
Me: That is not what I said.
Luke: Close enough.
Another pause.
Luke: I’ll text when I land. Don’t let Maya’s family feed you too much turkey.
Me: No promises. And, I do love you.
Luke: I love you more.
I set the phone down. Pressed my palm against the mattress where he’d slept. We’d just said our first ‘I love you’s’ through text messages. I closed my eyes and let out a long breath. Twenty-one days. Five hundred four hours.