CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX DEAN
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
DEAN
I’m not gonna miss New England weather, my god. I kick my boots off into the drip tray and shrug my coat off, making sure not to let too much snow slide off onto the floor.
Another two months of this, and then I’m off. Which, again, is bittersweet itself.
Nick going all quiet and sulky when I opened my laptop to look at flights wasn’t lost on me.
On one hand, I get it. He’s trying to live his life, and that’s here, but I’m trying to do the exact same, and for me, the path forward lies back home, or at least in any country except this one.
Staying in the US and doing anything other than studying even more is a long fucking shot, and my pending grad school application is an even longer shot.
On the other hand, I don’t know if I’m any more excited about going home than Nick is.
In fact, I don’t know how accurate it is to say I’m going home—I’ve been to Shenzhen exactly twice in my life, and I know exactly zero people there.
I mean, I know a guy from high school who lives across the border in Hong Kong, but we haven’t spoken in years.
Without thinking, I pull out my phone, and find an email waiting for me.
From: National Commercial Bank
My heart shudders, and I press on the notification.
Esteemed Applicant:
I roll my eyes. This company knows my damn name.
As you are aware, the domestic financial, accounting, and economic environments are highly sensitive, and it is necessary to apply strict controls and regulations, especially in the areas of personnel management.
I sit up straighter, squinting at the screen as I concentrate on reading the rest of the message.
In accordance with recent policy guidance published by the National Financial Regulatory Administration concerning domestic data privacy and financial information security, we are taking necessary action—
My stomach drops. Do I even want to keep reading?
—by adding a mandatory half-year unpaid probationary period for all incoming employees with undergraduate degrees from international and Hong Kong/Macao/Taiwan universities.
This policy change is implemented in order to effectively assess the actual educational and security backgrounds for certain employees, and we regret the disturbance this may bring to your planning.
So because I chose to go to college in another country, a private company that hired me to work in a department with zero state contracts decided to de-risk by…pulling the rug out from under me? To comply with policy guidance I know for a fact is non-binding?
Rent in Shenzhen is cheaper than it is here, but six months of unpaid probation, with no firm guarantee of continued employment, is a massive slap in the face.
It’s the complete opposite of the stability I’ve been trying to seek, and if I’d known the company would pull something like this, I wouldn’t have accepted their offer in the first place. Or even applied.
I click my phone off and toss it across the bed, rolling over and smashing my face into a pillow.
My thoughts darken, with uncertainty and illogical shame swirling around my head.
I know coming here for college wasn’t a bad idea.
I got hired on the merits of my education, and being targeted before I start isn’t a reflection on me.
But still, it fucking stings, and my first instinct is to think about what I could have done differently.
If I went to college in China, I probably would have had to switch into a local school after ninth grade, and the adjustment itself might have nuked my academic prospects.
I could have applied to more grad schools, but there aren’t a ton of economics master’s programs that would have been worth staying here for and shelling out another chunk of cash on tuition.
And I’ve wanted to go home for years. It’s just now, there’s a pesky, handsome baseball player who’s upending my plans that don’t even exist anymore. I never thought I’d be the kind of person to make major life changes for a guy I met a few months ago, but here we are.
The groan I let out is visceral and resigned. Even if I’m not entirely helpless, there’s nothing I can do right now. At least wallowing alone isn’t making me feel any worse, and I keep at it for who knows how long.
That’s only broken by the sound of keys in my lock, and I instinctively bring my head up and walk out of the bedroom, the sudden absence of my pillow stinging on my forehead.
Nick’s here. He’s a sight for sore eyes, and my god, I need to take him in.
I sink into the folding chair that’s serving as my substitute couch, letting my gaze roam up his amazingly tight baseball pants, across the hoodie hugging his athletic body in all the right places, and I end up fixating on his backward ball cap, the adorable strands of hair peeking out from under the brim, and the soft, reverent expression he’s wearing when our eyes lock.
Ranking anything is hard for me, but when it comes to America’s contributions to the world, I’m putting fucking baseball hats worn backward at the top of the chart. I can’t rip my eyes away.
“Holy crap, I’m beat,” Nick says, kicking his shoes off and dropping his gear bag to the floor. “I’m gonna shower, and I hope you’re ready for a night of lying in bed and doing nothing.”
“That sounds exactly like what I need.” I stand up slowly and make my way over to him at the entryway, all while keeping my job-related frustration under the surface.
It isn’t like I’m trying to bottle everything up and hide it forever, but Nick just got back from a nerve-wracking practice where he had a ton of eyes on his performance—he doesn’t need me to unload even more stress on him.
“How was your day?” he asks, sticking an arm around my back and drawing me in for a kiss. He tastes like citrus-flavored sports drink, and I linger on his soft lips to soak in the first bit of comfort I’ve had all day.
“Fine,” I murmur. “I was looking forward to seeing you, though.”
He tilts his head, and I can almost hear the gears turning behind those gentle gray eyes. “There’s something on your mind.”
Am I that bad of an actor?
I shake my head and try to extract myself from Nick’s questioning stare that has no right to be as warm as it is. “I don’t want to bother you with it.”
He pulls me in even closer, and I give up the fight, resting my chin on his shoulder.
“Hey, I’m your boyfriend,” he says. “And you said we’re adults, so we talk about things. What’s got you all sad?”
All the fight I had left in me dissolves the second he starts tracing gentle lines up and down my back. He’s getting under my skin without even trying hard at all, and as frustrating as my lack of resolve is, I can’t deny that telling Nick about what happened is for the better.
“My job offer’s been upended,” I deadpan. “Going to college here is apparently a risk to their information security, and they’re putting me on six months of unpaid probation.”
Two firm hands land on my shoulders, grabbing hard. “No.” Nick’s voice is as broken as my career prospects. “That’s bullshit. I’m so fucking sorry.” He wraps both of his arms around me, pulling me close again, and my forehead lands in his neck.
Hold up, that shouldn’t be possible—I’m taller than Nick. I look down at his feet, and—
“Are you standing on tiptoes?” I ask, snickering.
“Maybe.” He hugs me tighter. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”
It is, even if I don’t say it out loud. I simply let myself relax into Nick’s embrace, his warmth seeping across our clothes and into my body, and I inhale more of his masculine scent.
It’s grounding, all of this, and for a second, my heart jumps at the prospect of getting more time with Nick, and maybe even staying.
But as usual, my familiarity with the immigration system rears its head, and my lofty speculation dissipates.
I groan, not knowing what to say.
“Hey, I’ve got you,” Nick says. “What do you need from me?”
“Rub my shoulders while I sulk in bed?”
“Fuck, man, that’s so sad. I was thinking I’d blow you and cook dinner.”
“Nick, oh my god.” I swat his shoulder, grateful for the levity. “I don’t think I’m in the mood for sex tonight.”
“Shit, you’re turning me down? This is worse than I thought.” He dodges my second smack and yanks me closer by my belt loops. “Why don’t I take you out? You think that’d cheer you up?”
“Why can’t you let me be sad?” I mutter into his shoulder. “Fuck you for being so nice.”
He chuckles along with me, bumping his shoulder blade into my cheekbone, and I pull back to take in his smiling face.
“Because I don’t like it when you’re sad.” After planting another kiss on my cheek, he steps back, hands on my waist. “Give me a minute to rinse off, and then we can head out. Get ready if you need to, but you look amazing already.”
He turns around, and my eyes predictably drift downward to his muscular ass, which stretches the fabric of those devious pants to their limit. The bathroom door closes before I can melt entirely, and I shake my head to clear it.
I did leave for class today, so I’m not a total slob; all I have to do is spritz on some cologne and grab a jacket.
When I’ve finished, Nick’s already standing in the hallway, looking annoyingly hot as usual. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jeans, and he’s chosen not to put his hat back on, revealing the soft hair he’s been growing out for the past few weeks.
He should wear his hat. It’s a need.
“No,” I say to him, even if it’s harsh. “Put it back on.”
“Put what—”
“Your hat.” I hand it to him, and spin it around after he slips it over his hair.
“Jeez, you’re such a needy asshole,” he quips, grinning at me. “You could just tell me you have a thing for the baseball aesthetic.”
“Who says I do?” A semi-serious joke surges to the tip of my tongue, and I let it loose. “Maybe I’m warming myself up to being a baseball spouse. It might be the most realistic plan for my future.”
He freezes halfway through opening the door for me. “You’d better not be joking. You know I’d bust my ass to make it happen.”
I know it’s too soon, way too soon, but Nick offering to make things work is almost enough to make me pop the question.
We end up at the ramen place down the street. Nick asked me to choose, I said I didn’t care, and then he threatened to throw me into the lake if I wasn’t more decisive.
He’d never, but this place was visible from where we were, and I’m craving something savory, anyway.
I got him to tell me about his closely scrutinized practice as a distraction, and I was more than happy to listen to him go on about how he took a rookie under his wing and almost broke the auto-pitcher with a randomly precise swing of his bat.
All in all, I’m getting the idea he’s a hot commodity in the baseball world, and my god, I hope things work out for him. Nick deserves it.
And right when I was beginning to think I’d be able to forget about my imploding life, I had to sabotage myself and bring my future up.
“So,” Nick says, after I moan about losing my job security again, “what are your options?”
“I don’t even know,” I say. “I could work for that company for free for six months and maybe stay on afterward, or I can turn it down and mope around my parents’ house while applying for grad school again.
” I make a frustrated jab of my chopsticks into my bowl, uselessly mixing around what’s left of the noodles, and the fact Nick doesn’t care about it being rude is more relieving than it needs to be.
“But none of that changes anything. My visa is gonna run out two weeks after I graduate.”
“So you’ve still got…”
“Two months left.”
Two months left with you.
Nick nods solemnly. “And, uh, did you hear back from the grad school you applied to?”
Even he knows how hopeless it’d be to try getting hired as an international student here.
“Washtenaw U? Nope.” I pop the P, sipping the over-salted broth from the ladle so my mouth has something to do while I ruminate. “Their acceptance deadline has already passed, and the other program in Chicago already turned me down. I’m such an idiot for only applying to two schools.”
“No, you aren’t,” Nick says firmly. “If you want to stay, is there something you could apply for that’d let you just, like, exist? Without working?”
The laugh I release is drier than the air outside. “Yeah, a tourist visa.” My mind goes to the month-long wait times for a visa interview at the Shanghai consulate. “That’d take ages to organize, and I’d end up sitting around burning cash on rent and stuff.”
“Shit.” He runs a hand along his forehead. “What are we gonna do?”
“I’ll start my job and hope I pass probation?” I mentally kick myself when Nick’s face falls. “Look, I’m just being a little realistic, and grad school is a good career move in my field. I can try applying here again when applications open back up.”
“And you’d get back in how long—two years?” Nick grumbles. His expression is pensive, and I’m not sure what kind of scheme he’s cooking up. I’m the one who knows the US immigration system, and— “Say the word and I’ll get on one knee.”
I recoil, physically, and I’m so surprised, I don’t care about how rude it looks. “You can’t do that,” I say immediately, before checking myself. “I know where you’re coming from, but it isn’t practical. The government would ask for a shit ton of proof we don’t have.”
He cocks his head, one of his signature cheeky grins spreading across his lips. “How long does that proof have to span? I’m sure we can make evidence quickly if we try.”
I scoff. “Are you suggesting we falsify—”
“It’s not falsification if our relationship is real,” he counters. “I’ll get our friends to follow us around and take candid pictures of us being couple-y, we can text each other more instead of calling so we have screenshots to show the case agents…”
“Nick.” I chuckle, and he stops in his tracks like he always does when I say his name. “We’ll be fine. And you know I want to come back, and it’ll be easier for me to join you if I do things properly.”
What I don’t add is that inventing evidence to support a sponsorship petition is grounds for getting kicked out permanently. I think he gets the idea.
He sheepishly scratches the back of his neck. “Right, yeah. I just… I just wish it was easier for you to stay.”
“You and me both,” I mutter. “Tell you what—it’s a long shot, but I’ll send a letter of continued interest to Washtenaw in case they’re still looking at applications.”
The way Nick’s face lights up solidifies the tentative plan in my mind, which is almost enough to erase the practical, annoying doubt in my core. I can’t place all of my hopes on one option, especially since I have no idea if it’ll even work, but I’ve felt powerless for ages.
So I’ll take a shot, even if it only ends up meaning I tried my best.