Stargazing with You

10. Medical School

Chapter 10

Medical School

Third Year

A few months into my third year and the start of my clinical rotations, I felt a shift within myself. It was as though all the theoretical knowledge from my textbooks was finally breathing, living, in the flurry of hospital activity. Each day brought new challenges, new things to learn in exciting new ways. For the first time in my life, I was more than just a student, sitting behind a textbook and learning the theory behind a problem or a disease. I was part of a team, a part of something bigger than myself. I was helping real people. And for the first time since starting medical school, I felt like I truly belonged.

It also helped that I finally had my anxiety under control. I had started an anti-anxiety medication two weeks after my Step 1 exam, and when it started to take effect, my brain felt like an unfamiliar landscape, in the very best way. It was like all the cobwebs and unnecessary junk had been cleared from the corners of my mind, leaving me feeling clean and for the first time, not terrified on a daily basis. I was seeing a counselor every other week who helped me talk through everything—my fears, my self-doubt, my relationship with my father.

Instead of frantically treading water, I was walking on it.

When I started my neurology rotation in the fall, I felt like I might have finally found my place in the world. Maybe it was Javi’s influence on me, but there was something about the complexity of the human brain that appealed to me and fascinated me. The neurology team, with its many residents and attendings, welcomed me with open arms, pleased by my obvious interest and quick learning.

Dr. Lena Karam, one of my preceptors for the rotation, noticed my enthusiasm immediately. She was a petite woman with sharp eyes and a sharp mind. Her passion for the field was evident in every patient interaction I witnessed, every discussion with residents that she led. At the end of my third week with her team, she pulled me aside after rounds, her expression serious but encouraging.

“Diana,” she began. “Have you given serious thought to what specialty you would like to pursue?”

I hesitated, knowing that somewhere in this very hospital, my father was probably operating, thinking in the back of his mind that I would be following in his footsteps someday.

“I sort of always assumed I would go into cardiothoracic surgery,” I replied, noncommittally.

She flashed me a knowing smile. “Is that truly what you want to do?”

“It’s still early in the year,” I hedged, “but these three weeks with your team have been amazing. I could seriously see myself going into neurology after this.”

“That’s what I was hoping you would say,” she said, beaming at me with pride. “I’m currently spearheading a clinical trial for a new drug for Alzheimer’s disease. How would you like to join our research team?”

The offer took me by surprise, and I instantly felt a mix of excitement and fear at the prospect. It was an honor to be recognized and sought out by someone as respected in her field as Dr. Karam, but I wondered if I was up to the task. Her faith in me, her belief that I could contribute something valuable, though, was incredibly affirming.

“I would love to, Dr. Karam,” I replied, the words out before I could second-guess myself. Her smile, broad and genuine and proud, told me I had made the right decision.

In the weeks that followed, I met with Dr. Karam and her team of resident researchers several times, mapping out my involvement in the trial. I balanced my regular rotations with patient interviews, literature reviews, and data analysis. The work was demanding but rewarding. Instead of feeling pulled in multiple directions to the point of fraying, as I feared I would feel, I felt like I was juggling my responsibilities well.

Christmas break approached, and I felt nervous to spend it with my parents. Halfway through my third year and my clinical rotations, I imagined that the conversation with my father about my desired specialty was inevitable. No matter how little time I agreed to spend in my parents’ home, it would be almost impossible to avoid the subject entirely. And I didn’t feel mentally prepared to have that fight with him.

Javi called a few days before Christmas. As soon as I saw his picture light up my phone, my lips stretched instantly into an involuntary wide grin.

“From what corner of the globe do I owe the pleasure?” I asked when I answered the line. I walked home from the subway in my scrubs and parka. The first real snow of the year had fallen that morning, and I was pleased that the little fluffy piles on the corners were not yet black and gray with urban grime.

“Palo Alto, if you can believe it,” he said on the other line. “But the Artemis hit US shelves today, figuratively speaking. I’m probably going to be stateside for a few months during the roll-out.”

I shook my head, though he obviously couldn’t see the gesture. “Can you believe it? It feels like just yesterday you were pitching me the idea on the beach.”

“I know,” he said. “I can’t believe we made it this far.”

“I can,” I replied. “I knew you were going to see this through.”

“Your belief in me has not gone unnoticed,” he said. “And it is appreciated. How is everything going on your rotations?”

“Really well,” I said. “Just finished up my Ob/Gyn rotation. Delivered a couple babies this month!”

“That’s amazing! Reconsidering neurology at all?”

“No, still pretty sure about it...” I said, though the uncertainty in my voice contrasted my words.

“But?” he asked.

“But I’m terrified to tell my father,” I finished. “I’m spending Christmas Eve at home, and I don’t know how I’m going to avoid him bringing it up. I already hide in janitor’s closets every time I see him coming down the hallway at work.”

Javi laughed. “At some point, you’re going to have to tell him. You can’t hide in closets forever.”

I laughed too. “I don’t know, my parents’ place has quite a few closets.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he said.

“But you love me?” I asked, grinning.

“But I love you,” he confirmed, with a tenderness in his voice that left me speechless for several long seconds. I shook my head at the sudden fluttering in my stomach. Maybe it was the Zoloft making my brain interpret everything in a more positive light, but it seemed like conversations between Javi and I lately had been different, somehow. Like there was an underlying current to our words, something demanding sitting just below the surface of our conversations.

“Will I see you soon?” I asked him, my tone sounding a tad more desperate than I wanted. It was rare that we didn’t have a visit scheduled. I had seen him and his family for Thanksgiving break, but he had been so busy with the final preparations for the distribution of the Artemis that we had not planned anything since.

“Very soon,” he promised. “I’ll check my schedule.”

“Wonderful,” I replied. “I can’t wait.”

“Me neither,” he said. “Talk to you soon, Doc.”

“Talk soon.”

A few days later, I was in my parents’ living room for Christmas Eve. I wore a fitted sweater dress in a deep red color with thigh high suede boots for the occasion. My hair fell in soft brown ringlets to my shoulders. The Christmas lights twinkled through frosted windows and cast a warm glow across the polished floors. My mom had decorated beautifully for the holidays, with garlands draped along the staircase and a towering fir tree adorned with silver and gold ornaments dominating most of the entryway. The festive atmosphere, however, did little to calm the uncomfortable fluttering in my stomach as I awaited my father’s arrival. He had been called in for an emergency procedure that morning, but he had texted us that he was on his way back.

The doorbell rang, and my heart skipped a beat before I remembered that my father would not be ringing the doorbell. I rushed to answer it, pulling the door open to find Javi standing in my parents’ doorway. My breath caught at the sight of him.

“Surprise!” he exclaimed, unwinding his scarf as he moved forward to hug me. My heart lurched with relief at his appearance.

“Javi! I can’t believe you’re here!” I wrapped him in a tight hug, feeling the cold from his coat seeping through my dress. “How are you here?”

“A little Christmas magic,” he joked, eyes twinkling with mischief. He handed me a bottle of wine. “For your parents.”

My mom appeared then out of the kitchen, wearing an apron and oven mitts over her green velvet dress. Her face lit up at the sight of Javi.

“Javier, what a wonderful surprise!” She embraced him warmly.

“Mrs. Richards, so lovely to see you,” he told her.

She chastised him, “Really, Javier, you can call me Helen.”

It was then that my father arrived back home. He had already changed back from scrubs into his nice clothes for the holiday, and I marveled at how his salt-and-pepper hair always seemed to stay in the same perfect arrangement, even though I knew he had spent several hours in a scrub cap. When he saw Javi, he gave him a firm handshake.

“Good to see you, Javier,” he said. “This is a surprise.”

“And you, Dr. Richards,” he said. “I thought it would be nice to surprise Diana for the holidays.”

We settled in the dining room as mom served dinner. The evening began more pleasantly than I could have hoped for with the unexpected addition of Javi. He charmed my parents, as he did everyone, with tales of his adventures around the world and the progress on distribution of his device. My father seemed genuinely impressed with Javi’s accomplishments. But as the plates were cleared and we settled around the fire in the living room with our desserts, I could feel the conversation shift to me, like a physical thing, a change of the wind.

“So how are the rotations going, kid?” my father inquired, settling into his favorite leather armchair. “All of your preceptors rave about you whenever they see me around. Surgery next, right?”

“Mm hmm,” I mumbled, pushing chocolate pie around my plate. Without saying anything, Javi’s knee moved almost imperceptibly until it was touching mine, providing quiet support.

“That’s going to be the real test," he said enthusiastically. "Gotta bring your A-game! You’re going to need those references for your residency applications next year.”

I debated giving another non-committal response. But this was a conversation I needed to have with him, whether it was now or in six months when I began my applications. But it was rare to have my two biggest supporters in life in one room—Javi and my mom—to back me up. I had to take this opportunity to speak up for myself and my dreams.

“Actually, I’ve been thinking about it a lot.” I looked across the living room at him. “I think I’d like to go into neurology.”

My voice was steady despite the pounding in my chest, and I was proud of myself for that. Javi’s knee gave mine another reassuring nudge.

“Neurology?” my father asked, his dessert fork clattering against his plate. “Why on Earth would you choose that? You have surgeon’s hands, Diana. I know your Step 1 score was average, but you can’t discount surgery already based on that alone.”

My jaw clenched, my teeth grinding together at the comment about my step score. To bring up that time of my life on Christmas, of all days, seemed like a low blow. But if I was being fair, he didn’t know anything about how terrible my life had been back in June, when I had taken the exam. He didn’t know how close I had come to quitting medical school all together. He only knew about the outcome: a mediocre score.

“It has nothing to do with my step score,” I said, resolutely. “I want to do neurology because I love it. I’ve been working with Dr. Karam on this Alzheimer’s clinical trial, and I love the work. I love the patients and the science behind it. This is what I want to do with my life, Dad.”

“Neurology is a waste of your talents. I had high hopes of you following in my footsteps.” The disappointment in his voice was a sharp, tangible thing, cutting deeper than I cared to admit. I put my plate down on the coffee table, my hands clenching into fists.

“This is what I’m passionate about. This is where I think I can make a real difference,” I insisted.

“Bigger difference than you can make repairing hearts? You’re being ridiculous, Diana. You’ll see once you do your surgical rotation, I’m sure.”

The room fell silent. My mom looked between us, worry creasing her brow, but said nothing. This is how it had always been with her. She was my biggest supporter when we were alone, and a silent bystander when we were with my father. I looked at my hands, my resolve crumbling. It was Javi who broke the hefty silence.

“Dr. Richards, with all due respect, isn’t it more important for Diana to pursue something she’s passionate about?” he asked, and I braced myself for my father’s inevitable explosion. “I’ve seen Diana’s dedication to neurology, her passion for this field, and it’s inspiring. And I greatly respect what you do, Dr. Richards. Undoubtedly, the heart is the most vital organ. But the brain?”

He paused for dramatic effect, and the flicker of a grin tugged at the corner of my mouth, knowing his penchant for a little drama.

“The brain orchestrates the symphony that is human experience. Comparing the two is like comparing the engine to the rocket scientist who figured out how to send a man into space. Both organs are complex, to be sure, but one of them pumps blood and the other encapsulates the entire cosmos of human experience and memory and emotion. She might not be doing what you do, sir, but I’d say she’s diving into one of the ultimate frontiers. I can’t imagine trying to minimize that.”

I met Javi’s gaze, glowing with the force of his pride in me.

Emboldened by his praise, I found my voice. “I couldn’t have said it better. Dad, I’m going into this field because I believe in helping people live better, not just longer. It’s where I can make a difference.”

“And she will,” Javi added, resolutely.

My father’s brow furrowed, his mouth opening to retort, but I pressed on, “Just because I’m not following in your footsteps doesn’t mean my path is any less valuable. I need you to try to understand that.”

The room fell silent. My mom looked worried, her eyes darting between me and my father, while Javi was a steady and calming presence beside me. My father sat back in his chair. His expression was inscrutable for a long moment.

Finally, he nodded. “I see your point. Your passion for the field, both of your passion for it, is commendable. I suppose it’ll take some time for me to come to terms with the idea of not sharing my world with you. But perhaps I need to look more into yours. ”

Relief washed over me. A huge weight seemed to float off my shoulders.

“Thank you, Dad,” I managed, my voice thick with emotion.

Javi beamed at me. As the evening wore on, the tension dissolved, replaced with the cheer of the holiday and a cautious optimism between my father and me.

Javi and I bid my parents good night a little while later. When we were safely on the street and out of sight and earshot of my parents, I threw myself at Javi, squeezing him as tight as I could.

“That was amazing!” I exclaimed, the thrill of the moment making my voice breathier than I intended. “I can’t believe you stood up to my dad like that.”

“Me?” Javi chuckled, his eyes twinkling with a mix of adrenaline and amusement. “What about you? You were incredible!”

I released him from the hug, but reached up, cupping his face gently. As our laughter subsided, for just a moment, the space between us felt charged with an unspoken energy. The cold bit at our cheeks, which were flushed from our excitement. The snow fell gently in flurries around us. His skin was warm under my touch. He had me locked beneath his deep, inextricable gaze.

“You couldn’t have given me a better Christmas present,” I whispered, my thumbs brushing lightly against his cheeks.

The world around us seemed to pause in that moment—silent except for the distant hum of the city. The fog of our breath mingled in the crisp winter air between us. His eyes flickered down to my lips, and for a heartbeat, I could have sworn he was going to close the distance between us.

But then, as if snapping out of a spell, Javi’s expression shifted from my face. He gave a slight, almost imperceptible shake of his head, as though to clear it. He stepped away from me, my hands drifting down from his face with the motion. He reached into his backpack with a rueful smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, his voice a touch too casual. He fished a little blue bag out and handed it to me. “Merry Christmas, Doc.”

I didn’t have time to consider what had just passed between us, but the air still seemed to hum with what might have been. My heart stuttered in my chest.

I looked at the bag with eyebrows raised. Tiffany blue.

“Javi,” I said, my voice laced with fear. “There is literally nothing that could be in this bag that wouldn’t be far too generous.”

“Just open it,” he pressed.

“Javi, a thimble from Tiffany’s costs $300!” I insisted.

“Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t get you the thimble then,” he said, laughing.

I shot him another disapproving glance, but I was far too curious not to open it. I unwrapped a white ribbon from around the little blue box, fished out a blue velvet bag, and poured its contents out into my hand. It was a silver bracelet, with a little charm dangling from the center link.

“It’s a neuron,” he said, clearly proud of his gift. And he had every right to be proud of it. It was an amazing, thoughtful, entirely too extravagant gift. I touched the little silver branches of the neuron pendant tenderly. The nucleus at the center was made of a single, small, glittering stone. I suspected, but was too afraid to ask, that it was a diamond. More than just a pretty piece of jewelry, this meant so much more. This meant that, even before he had seen me stand up to my father this evening, he had believed in me—believed that I was strong enough not to let my father’s influence get in the way of pursuing my passion.

“Javi, this is way too much,” I said softly. It was one thing to accept expensive gifts from my parents—it was another entirely to accept them from Javi, even if he did make good money now. Having him spend that money on me, and in such an incredibly thoughtful way, left me reeling.

“You can’t take it back,” he warned me sternly. “It’s custom-made, and they were fresh out of other future neurologists to sell it to.”

“I wouldn’t dream of giving it back,” I said, clutching the bracelet to my heart. The phrase custom-made did nothing to help the considerable guilt I felt. “It doesn’t change the fact that it’s entirely too much, though.”

Javi shrugged but looked pleased by my reaction. “What good is having my device out in the world if I don’t get to spend the money on people I love?”

“The thousands of lives you’re going to save?” I asked him.

“Oh yeah,” he answered, playfully nudging me with his shoulder. “I guess there’s that too.”

Javi called a cab to take us back to the apartment. When we were in my apartment again, stamping our boots free of snow and shedding parkas and scarves, I suddenly felt like being in such a small space with Javi was uncomfortable, in a way that it had never been before. He had literally slept in the same bed as me before, and yet I hadn’t felt this flushed and nervous then.

I needed to distract myself from the uncomfortable feelings ruminating in my gut. I ran to my desk to fetch a framed picture I had left there.

"I, uh, also have something for you,” I said, sounding shy as I showed him the gift. “I didn’t have time to wrap it, since I didn’t know when I would see you. I hope you like it.”

Javi’s face lit with excitement, and he inspected the picture carefully. It was a small painting, no bigger than a paperback novel.

“Diana, this is perfect. It’s our view. Our exact view from the top of Butler. How did you manage it?” He touched the tiny paint strokes delicately with the tip of his finger.

“I know it’s not Tiffany’s,” I joked, trying to ease the emotional weight of the moment. “But I figured we could both use a reminder of where we’ve come from, no matter where we go. I found an art student at Columbia who takes commissions. It only cost a little bit extra to get them to trespass onto the roof.”

Javi laughed. His eyes softened as he looked from the picture to me, a mix of nostalgia and joy playing across his face.

“It's more precious than anything from Tiffany’s. Thank you, Di,” he murmured. “It’s going right on my desk, and with me wherever I go.”

He moved to tuck the picture away in the safety of his backpack, while I fled to the restroom to get ready for bed.

Javi and I spent the week catching up in warm coffee shops and bookstores. We took brief walks around the neighborhood before the chill brought us inside once more. We played board games and watched old movies, like we used to. I was happy that, even though Christmas had left me feeling confused and expectant, we settled into our usual routine easily.

When New Year’s Eve arrived, the air was filled with a celebratory buzz in the city, and we finally decided to stop being hermits for the occasion. Blake invited us to join our other med school friends for a local party. I put my hair up into a high ponytail and wore a gold, sparkling mini dress for the occasion.

When I stepped out of the bathroom wearing it, I was gratified to find it had a dramatic effect on Javi. He did an actual double take at the dress. With my gold heels on, I was much closer to Javi’s eye level than normal. I stepped close to him, brushing an invisible speck of dust off the glossy lapel of his black suit. I noted the bob of his Adam's apple in response to our proximity.

“Shall we?” I asked him, my red lips curving up into a coy smile.

He cleared his throat and stepped back to gesture to my door. “After you.”

We arrived at the party to find Blake bedecked in sparkling emerald green and gold from head to toe. She wore a paper headband marking the year and put a matching one on my head as soon as I was in reach.

The party was lively, with music blaring and lights flashing as everyone danced and laughed, eager to ring in the new year. The glittering lights of the cityscape in the distance were mirrored by the sparkles of laughter and champagne that flowed freely throughout the night. As midnight approached, I positioned myself near Javi, our arms brushing as we stood watching the festivities. When the countdown began, a wave of excitement surged through the crowd. My heart leapt at the sound.

“Ten, nine, eight...” we joined in, our voices melding with the others.

“Three, two, one... Happy New Year!”

Cheers erupted and the air was filled with the festive sound of noisemakers. Tradition beckoned everyone to share a kiss with someone, and I glanced over to see Blake enthusiastically embracing a girl I remembered vaguely from my pediatrics rotation. Smiling at their antics, I turned to share a laugh about it with Javi. But instead of amusement, his expression appeared intense and a bit uncertain.

His eyes flickered down to my lips, and I took this as confirmation that he felt this too—this needy, heavy pull between us. I stepped forward until we were a breath away from each other. But I stopped short, my eyes searching his.

His hand wandered upward, bracing the side of my neck, and my whole world seemed to freeze as he drifted toward me. Finally, his lips brushed mine in a hesitant kiss—a fleeting connection that nonetheless sent a shockwave down my spine that rippled outward into my fingers and toes. I leaned in, diminishing the scant distance left between us. I placed one hand gently on his chest, where he felt like he was radiating heat, even through his black shirt and jacket. How could someone be so incredibly warm all the time? A little hum seemed to vibrate in his chest at the feeling of our lips together, and the sound and the feel of it against my palm made something inside me ache. I longed to pull him even closer, to deepen the kiss. To break whatever promises I had once made.

But he pulled away, and the world seemed to resume around us, the noise of the celebration crashing back into my awareness. The celebratory chaos seemed to swell back into focus. His eyes lingered on mine, flashing with a complex mix of emotions I couldn’t interpret.

“Just a New Year’s kiss,” he murmured, his voice laden with silent questions, his eyes searching mine.

“Yeah,” I whispered, my heart pounding even louder than the music. “Just New Year’s.”

Javi nodded slowly, a small smile playing at his lips as if to reassure both of us that our words were sincere. But there was a weight to the moment that lingered, like the final note of a song hanging in the air after the music had stopped. And I realized then that I didn’t want it to stop.

As the party began to wind down, the guests trickling out into the early hours of the morning, Javi and I made our way out onto the street to head back to my apartment. The cold January air was sharp, but the tension between us felt sharper. We pulled our coats around ourselves, our breath visible in the frosty air.

“I’ll be heading out tomorrow,” he finally said, breaking the heavy silence that had settled between us. His voice was soft, almost hesitant. “Got an early flight back to California.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak yet. I didn’t want him to see the disappointment I felt at his departure, nor the tangled mess of feelings I couldn’t quite understand myself.

“These visits are always too short,” he remarked.

“They are,” I agreed.

Javi seemed abnormally quiet on the subway ride home, on the walk back to my apartment, and while we readied ourselves for bed. After turning out the light, I stared up at my ceiling for a long time, knowing, as I always seemed to know, that Javi was not asleep. But this time my heart was pounding expectantly, so loudly in my ears I was afraid he could hear it in the tiny space. A part of me was tempted to call out to him, as I had done in the past. But this felt so different than those other times. Those times, I had been looking for comfort. This time, the memory of that kiss occupied the entire forefront of my thoughts. This time, if I called out, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to handle the ramifications of what it would mean for us, for our friendship.

And I had to remind myself that he was leaving. He would be back in California before the day was done .

I stayed quiet until a fitful, restless sort of sleep finally overcame me.

I woke before the dawn, only a few hours later. I lay awake for those moments, listening to the rhythm of his breathing. When he finally stirred, I made us coffee and toast as Javi quietly packed up his things. I walked him out to the curb so he could catch a taxi to the airport. Javi pulled me into a hug.

“I’m so happy you came out this week, Javi.” I pulled away from our hug to look up at him. Our eyes locked, and I could almost sense that same hesitation, the same unspoken words I wanted to say reflected at me in his eyes. But he shook his head and looked away, as he had before on Christmas.

My smile faded at his expression. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah...” he replied, but his tone was hesitant. “It’s just, I don’t feel like I’ve been completely open with you this trip.”

My heart thudded with concern. “Okay? What about?”

He seemed to collect his thoughts for a long moment before he would meet my eyes again. “I’ve started seeing someone. In California.”

I stepped back from him as suddenly as if he had electrocuted me. A mix of emotions flooded through me, a complicated blend of jealousy, disappointment, and sadness, but I quickly covered it up with a too-bright smile that I forced my lips into with great difficulty.

“Oh, Javi, that’s great!” I exclaimed, my voice a pitch too high. “I mean, that is so great. Just great. She must be great.”

I shook my head, realizing just how many times I had said the word ‘great’ in one sentence.

“She is,” he replied softly, sounding guilty at the admission. “ It’s pretty new. Her name is Alex. She works for a start-up in Palo Alto. We met at a tech conference a couple of months back. Only started dating a couple weeks ago. I didn’t really plan for it to happen, especially not now, but?—”

‘But that’s how the best things in life happen, right? Unplanned?” I cut in, my heart sinking a bit with each word. I felt like it was getting harder to breathe the more we spoke.

“Yeah, exactly,” he agreed, a touch of sadness in his smile. He took a deep breath, seeming as unsettled as I felt. “I want to be honest with you, Di. You’re my best friend. I should have told you when I first got here, I just... It just hadn’t come up.”

“Of course, no, I get it,” I said, though I didn’t really. Why hadn’t he told me? We told each other everything—how could he leave out such a vital piece of information?

I took several small steps back until we were maybe six feet apart. It might as well have been an ocean apart. The silence stretched between us for an uncomfortably long time.

“Well, have a safe flight, Javi,” I said quickly, a clear dismissal.

“Yeah, okay... Thanks, Di.” He turned away from me, toward the street and the approaching taxis. “Take care of yourself.”

I watched him go, my feigned happiness crumbling into the cold winter air.

My fingers lifted to my lips, brushing them gently. They were chapped with the frosty weather, but I could almost feel them still tingling from the kiss. They curved down into a grimace at the memory. I knew now that it had truly meant nothing to him, as he had said. Just a New Year’s thing . And I felt a completely foreign emotion well up and boil in my gut at the thought—I was angry at Javi.

I couldn’t remember ever really being angry at him before. But he had a girlfriend . He had kissed me, and he had a girlfriend . Of all the people I had ever known, I would never have dreamed him capable of toying with my emotions like this. Even though it was the briefest, most innocent kiss, I felt foolish and embarrassed that it had happened.

But if I was honest with myself, it wasn’t his fault. It was mine. My mind had apparently been inventing things all week—furtive glances, soft touches, heavy pauses between us. I had given meaning to signs that had apparently never been there, that I had fabricated. That little part of my mind—the part that asked dangerous questions about what Javi and I were to each other—had reared its ugly head once more. I usually was better at keeping that part tucked away, stifled in the back corners of my mind.

But I had let it escape once again, in definitive and heartbreaking fashion.