35. Follow Me
FOLLOW ME
ANDERS
When I was little, I saw something on the internet about lucid dreaming. Apparently you can fly and do whatever you want.
Ten year old Anders was on a mission to ski off the summit of Everest. I remember building a diorama of it for my science fair, and something about the fact that Everest has all these dead frozen bodies just really shook me.
Maybe it was the humanity aspect of it—paying thousands of dollars to climb up someone’s final resting place.
Or maybe I couldn’t fathom loving something enough to risk my life for it.
Even back then I was this moody, cynical little kid who had too many problems to count.
My weirdest dream is one that visits me at the most random times. It always starts out the same.
I strap on my skis and take a puff of oxygen before slowly inching towards the edge. It’s a steep drop, but all I can see is the thick, white expansion that circles around us. The white swallows everything, and suddenly I feel sick. I can’t do it.
I stake my pole into the snow to ground myself, but it’s too late.
I plummet, free falling from the highest point of Earth. Right as I’m about to hit the ground—
“Anders—”
“What the fuck?” I gasp, sitting straight up in the bed.
The room is dark. No more white. No more snow. Warmth surrounds me, the sheets sticking to every inch of my skin. The silence presses against my ears.
“Hey,” Parker whispers. “Did you have a bad dream?”
“Mount Everest,” is all I have to mutter for him to understand.
“That’s the third night in a row,” he says sadly. I feel him pull me to his chest, brushing his lips across the back of my neck. “Do you wanna talk about it?”
“No,” I murmur, shifting to my other side. I reach out and feel for him in the dark, letting my hands settle flat on his chest.
“Do you wanna talk about it now?”
I snort softly, tucking my head beneath his chin. “I think I’m just nervous about my meeting with my advisor.” There’s a pause but Parker nudges me to keep going. “And also the fact that I graduate college in two weeks,” I add.
“Tell you what,” Parker whispers in his sleep-drawn voice. “Let’s go back to sleep. We’ll wake up and have sex.”
“Oh my God,” I laugh.
The advising building always smells like somebody’s dead grandmother’s attic. The air is stale in a way that feels institutional, trapped inside walls older than half the country’s infrastructure. Every hallway twists into another with no logical pattern whatsoever, like it’s the backrooms.
The ugly olive-green carpet definitely hasn’t changed since then either.
Neither has the dark wood trim lining the walls, scratched up by decades of students pacing before meetings they’re terrified to attend.
I pass the bulletin board outside the advising offices, layered with faded internship flyers and graduate program announcements.
Half the papers are curling at the corners.
Dr. Plaid’s office sits all the way in the back of the building, bigger than most administrators’ offices combined. I swear the man has somehow annexed part of the hallway over the years. His door is cracked open already, warm yellow light spilling through the gap.
I knock twice against the wood.
“Mr. de Sousa,” Plaid calls dramatically. “So nice of you to finally bless me with your presence.”
I snort under my breath and step inside.
The office looks exactly the same as always.
Towering bookshelves stuffed with political theory texts.
Two absurdly large computer monitors that completely block Plaid whenever he sits behind them.
A Washington Commanders mug parked beside his keyboard like a permanent fixture.
The smell of expensive coffee hangs thick in the air.
“You lied to me,” I tell him immediately, dropping into the chair across from his desk and sparing the formalities. “At the beginning of the semester.”
Plaid looks up over the rims of his glasses. “About?”
“That political ideologies class.”
He gasps dramatically. “How dare you.”
“You said it was easy.”
“It is easy.”
“It is not easy,” I argue. “Dr. Markut grades essays like I’m personally rewriting the Constitution.”
Plaid hums thoughtfully while clicking around on his computer. “Interesting.” I narrow my eyes. He turns one monitor slightly toward himself. “Because according to your grades, I’m not seeing anything lower than an A.”
I press my lips into a hard line. “That’s…beside the point.”
“Mm.” He hides a smile behind his coffee mug. “Skill issue, perhaps.”
“Oh my God. You’re up to date on your slang.”
Plaid chuckles to himself before finally pushing his glasses up onto the top of his head. He leans back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach. “So,” he says. “Graduation. Let’s talk about it.”
The word hits me weird every single time I hear it.
“It’s coming up,” I tell him. “Pretty exciting.”
“Excellent.” He nods approvingly. “And we’re still considering grad school?”
I shrug one shoulder. “Depends who gives me more money. Still waiting to hear back from a few.” That’s only partially a joke.
Plaid’s expression changes slightly then. Subtle enough I almost miss it. Without saying anything, he lifts one hand and points directly at himself. “We are.”
I blink at him. “…What?”
“We,” he repeats slowly, amused now. “Are giving you more money.”
My stomach drops. I sit up straighter in the chair before I even realize I’m doing it.
“How much money?”
Plaid reaches for a packet sitting beside his keyboard. “Well,” he says carefully, dragging the word out in a way that instantly spikes my anxiety, “Dr. Markut needed a graduate teaching assistant.”
I stare at him.
“And,” Plaid continues, shuffling through the papers, “he specifically requested you.”
My brain short-circuits a little at that. “Dr. Markut?”
“The very same.”
“But he hates me.”
Plaid barks out a laugh. “No, he doesn’t. It’s called tough love, Anderson.” I stare at him blankly. Plaid grins and finally slides the packet across the desk toward me. “Full tuition,” he says casually. “Housing stipend. Regular stipend on top of that.”
The room goes quiet. Like, genuinely quiet. I think he keeps talking after that, but suddenly all I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears.
I look down at the packet without touching it. Full tuition. Housing stipend. GTA position. Requested by Dr. Markut.
I swallow hard. “Really?” The word comes out embarrassingly quiet.
Plaid’s expression softens immediately. “Yes, really.”
I stare at the papers another second before finally picking them up.
The packet shakes a little in my hands. I don’t even remember applying for this.
I remember talking vaguely about graduate school to Markut back in August. I remember joking about surviving another two years in D.C. But this? This feels so fucking unreal.
“You have two months to officially decide,” Plaid says. “But selfishly, I’d appreciate an answer sooner.”
“Why?”
“So I don’t have to hunt you down through the Pits of Hell after graduation.”
I laugh suddenly. “That’s fair,” I manage, still riding the wave of shock.
Plaid watches me carefully over the rim of his mug. “You worked hard for this, Anders,” he says quietly. “Don’t act surprised.”
By the time I leave the advising building, my entire body feels electric.
The cold air outside hits my face hard enough to sting, but I barely notice it.
Students flood the sidewalks around me laughing and talking and dragging backpacks behind them while the late afternoon sun throws gold across the brick pathways.
I stop halfway down the steps and look at the packet again just to make sure the words are still there.
I actually fucking did it. I keep looking down at it like it might disappear if I stop checking.
But it’s real.
The front door barely has time to slam shut behind me before Parker’s voice carries down the hallway. “You home?”
Warmth blooms instantly in my chest. I kick my shoes off messily by the door, grinning so hard my face already hurts. “Yeah,” I call back, shrugging out of my jacket. “Where are you?”
“In here.”
I follow the sound of his voice toward the office, pulse buzzing beneath my skin. I don’t even think I’ve fully processed what happened yet. Everything still feels unreal. My advisor’s smile. The number attached to the offer.
Parker glances up the second I appear in the doorway.
The look on his face changes immediately.
Softening like it always does when he sees me.
Looking more like a sexy professor than a professional athlete, his reading glasses are still perched low on his nose, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He pushes back from the desk slowly, eyes scanning my face once.
“You’re home late,” he murmurs. “What’s going on?”
I can’t hold it in another second. “I got offered a full tuition scholarship and a paid GTA position.”
For half a second, Parker just stares at me. Then his entire face lights up. “For Georgetown?”
“Yeah,” I laugh breathlessly. “Yeah.”
“Oh, holy shit.” He crosses the room so fast I barely get another breath in before his hands are on me. One arm hooks beneath my thighs while the other wraps around my back, lifting me clean off the ground like I weigh nothing. I yelp out a startled laugh, grabbing onto his shoulders automatically.
Parker kisses me hard. “Incredible,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Christ, angel.” His hand slides up the back of my neck, fingertips threading into my hair while he kisses me again. “They wanna steal my baby’s brain.”
I snort helplessly. “I think they really do.”
“You know how insane that is?” he asks, pulling back just enough to look at me. His eyes are bright in a way I don’t see often. “Full tuition and a GTA position? That’s like being first pick in the draft.”
I shrug even though my chest feels like it’s about to explode. “Guess I’m kind of a big deal.”
“Kind of?” I laugh again when he kisses the corner of my mouth. “Mm. Holy shit, sweetheart. You’re such—” Kiss. “A big.” Another kiss. “Deal.”
Parker still hasn’t put me down. Honestly, I don’t think he realizes it. He carries me out of the office absentmindedly, one large hand spread securely across my back while he keeps talking. “I’m serious, Anderson. That’s huge.”
The living room windows glow gold with late afternoon light, throwing soft streaks across the hardwood floors. Parker finally settles onto the couch with me still halfway in his lap. His palm smooths slowly up and down my spine. “That’s my smart boy,” he says quietly. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”
Warmth blooms low in my chest. I think I could live inside this moment forever.
He brushes his thumb beneath my eye before asking, “Where else did you apply again?”
“I don’t care,” I answer immediately. “I’m staying in D.C.”
“What?” Parker huffs out a laugh. “No chance.”
My smile falters a little.
“D.C. is boring,” he continues, nudging his nose against mine. “Go somewhere cool.”
“I like D.C.”
“Yeah?”
“D.C. has you.”
“Okay, but…” Parker’s expression softens instantly. “It’s not like we’d never see each other.”
My stomach drops. “You would leave D.C.?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“When the season’s over, I can visit all the time,” he says gently. “I’ll be retired. I’m gonna have so much more time for you.”
Visit. The word lands insanely wrong, hitting me too sharp and too sudden. My ears start ringing, the piercing sound filling my head. “What do you mean you’ll visit me?” I ask carefully, lowering my voice.
His expression shifts, his brows pulling together. “You wouldn’t want me to come visit you if you went to school somewhere else?”
The knot in my chest tightens.
“What’s wrong?” Parker quickly asks. “You’re upset.” I immediately look away toward the windows, unable to look at that fucking look of fragility I know he’s giving me. “Anders,” he presses. “Gotta talk to me here so I can help you.”
“I’m okay.” My voice cracks immediately.
“No you’re not.” Parker goes completely still. “I know what it looks like when my boy is upset.”
I laugh weakly and rub at my face. “Sorry.”
“Stop.” His hand tightens at my waist. “Talk to me,” he says again, whispering it softly. “You’ve lost the right to shut me out.”
I stare at the fading light outside and sigh. “You’re gonna think it’s stupid,” I mutter. Parker’s expression softens immediately as he shakes his head. “Okay.” I swallow hard, trying to bite back the embarrassing rush of hesitation. “I don’t want you to just visit me if I end up leaving D.C.”
Immediate understanding flashes across his face. “You want me to come with you.”
Relief floods through me because hearing him say it out loud somehow makes it less terrifying. “I know that probably sounds insane…we haven’t even really—”
“No, I’ll come with you.”
My breath catches. “You will?” I mutter, blinking. “You’d follow me?”
He smiles softly. Tenderly. “If you want me to come with you, then I’ll come with you,” he tells me. “Because I love you and I don’t want to be apart.”
He says all of this like it’s the most simple thing in the world…
Maybe that’s the goal here. A love so strong it’s simple and uncomplicated.
“Parker,” I breathe, my chest aching. “What did you say?”
His expression hardens a little, but there’s still no difficulty in voicing it. “I love you, Anderson.”
“You love me,” I echo to myself, flicking my eyes up to him. “You’re in love with me?”
He brushes my hair out of my face and caresses my cheek with the back of his hand. “I’m so fucking in love with you.”
The room goes completely still. I just stare at him, blinking.
It’s not just the declaration that hits me, though.
It’s the fact that he said it first on his own complete volition.
And for some reason—maybe the best reason—there isn’t an ounce of doubt in me.
He loves me. I believe it. Love isn’t an obligation.
That’s what he told me all those years ago…
“It feels right.”
I let out a deep, shaky breath, my mouth slowly pulling into a grin. “It does.”
His fingertips skim over my arm. “Don’t say it back until you’re ready, okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper, tucking my head against his shoulder. I slide my hand up his chest.
The scariest part of all of this isn’t that I know I love him. I’ve always loved Parker. He’s always been mine. It’s the fact that everything is so much more complicated. This isn’t as simple as whether Parker wants to be with me. That’s in the rearview.
Now we have to figure out what happens next.