✾ Gloxinia ✾
I tapped the message somewhat clumsily into my phone. My fingers were a bit chilly. How I longed for spring. It would be a time of new beginnings. I always felt like the air filled with a specific sort of freedom in the spring. But it would be a while yet.
Any news?
That's what the message said. Was it too short? I felt like I rarely saw Beau since he'd been back in school, so maybe I should have added something more. Something about my day so far. Something about making plans to go on a date. His birthday was coming up, and I wanted to do something for him. I tucked my phone back away.
He seemed so busy all the time, like he didn't really need me around. I knew that a little distance between us wasn't a big deal, but how much is too much? Maybe I was worried because he had other people again. I'd told him that I was jealous about Amory, and he'd reassured me. He said I had nothing to worry about. Of course, I didn't. Of course!
To be honest, I'd known that. I'd just told him in the name of honesty. I didn't want to keep anything secret from him. Immediately afterward, he'd absolutely lit up and informed me about his essay submission for a national competition. I was so proud. It was just another sign of the brilliance radiating from him. I asked to read the essay, but he told me no. Said he was embarrassed because it was about me, apparently. I conceded, after some resistance, and told him to keep me updated. He was supposed to hear back any day now. Early February, he'd said.
I wanted to believe that everything was fine. I really wanted to sit him down and talk to him soon. It felt like every day was a waste without him by my side. My lips felt unused.
"Ren!"
I jerked out of my own mind, looking around the coffee shop. Sitting at a corner table was a completely changed Jonah. He'd undergone a serious metamorphosis since I'd last seen him.
"Oh my god," I said, approaching the table. Jonah stood and pulled me into a hug, but I was still too shocked to form entire sentences. Back in high school, we'd been required to wear uniforms. Without those restrictions, Jonah had really gone wild with his getup. "Wow."
"You like?" Jonah asked, winking at me.
I nodded. "You look great."
Jonah smiled and sat down. He giggled a little. "Thanks." He was wearing perfectly fitted black pumps, skin-tight leather pants, a leopard-print blouse with puffy sleeves, and a black choker. I could feel the careful attention he'd given to even the smallest elements of his appearance, down to the elaborately carved hair and tiny piercing. And why not? Every style choice was an opportunity for him to shout to the world who he was, to wear his identity with pride. The flamboyant, confidently gay man in front of me was a far cry from the somewhat shy, secretive jock he'd once been. But it felt like a massive improvement.
"It really looks amazing on you. I'm serious. You're basically glowing," I said.
"Finally expressing my sexuality outwardly is therapeutic on the daily," he said, smiling and picking up his mug. I noticed even his fingernails were part of the ensemble, painted a shiny black. "And what about you? You've got hella tattoos!"
I shrugged. "Just sort of happened."
"You always used to doodle on everything," he said. "I'm not surprised your skin was no exception."
I smiled. Jonah looked good. Like, intimidatingly good. He'd been a gorgeous guy back in high school, but had worn his beauty modestly. Now, he really owned it. But more importantly, he knew who he was. That's what really shook me to my core. It was that confidence--like he was a seductive god come down from Olympus--that made him really come alive.
"Let me go get some coffee," I said, standing again. "Don't move. I'll be back."
"Hey, I finally get to see the Ren Amano again after years. I'm not going anywhere!" he said, waving me off.
I peeked back at him while waiting in line because I couldn't help it. It was hard to remember who he was before, but he was still essentially Jonah. His warmth, his energy, his heart. I could still feel them in the way he looked at me and in the way he spoke. Only two seconds of interaction and I could tell as much. I was glad that he wasn't entirely changed, that there was a central part of him that I'd gotten to know before everyone else. I felt lucky.
My phone buzzed. It was Beau. Patience! I told you I'd tell you when I heard.
I smiled and texted him back immediately. The very second you hear. Don't forget. I would have composed something more thoughtful or even called him, but I didn't want to keep Jonah waiting too long.
Jonah was bobbing his foot by the time I sat back down at the table. "Finally," he said, watching me sit.
"It was like two minutes. Come on," I said.
"I'm not a patient man," he said, smiling. I was glad to see him smile. It had been much rarer back in the day.
"Yeah, I know," I said. "You always used to pretend that you were, but I knew better."
"Never could hide anything from you, huh?" he said, bowing his head. He suddenly seemed withdrawn.
I hesitated. "Sorry. Didn't mean to-"
He shook his head. "Don't apologize, Ren. You don't need to apologize."
"I feel like I do for some reason," I said. "Don't know why. Maybe it's a habit." I cringed as soon as I said it. It made my apology sound insincere, which it was anything but. "Uh, not like-"
"Listen, I'm just salty because you could tell I was gay when no one else could," he said. "I was an athlete, a good student, a dutiful boyfriend." He shivered. "Gross. Hate to remember that last part."
"What was her name?" I asked, drinking some of my utterly black coffee. "Lisa? Liz?"
"Sh," Jonah said, pressing a manicured finger to his lips. "Forget I even brought her up, poor girl. All I'm trying to say is that you have a very strong gaydar, and it's a bit unfair."
"Unfair how?"
"Because you instantly knew my deepest secret and I never got to know yours," he said.
I swallowed hard. "Being gay was your deepest secret?"
He smiled softly. He knew I was avoiding the real question he was asking, the one he'd never even dared give words to. He wanted to know where exactly the dents in my complicated clockwork were that they kept me from functioning smoothly. What are your secrets, Ren Amano?
"At the time, it was my biggest secret. It's obviously no secret now, but it was torture back then. Anguish. I was paranoid all the time, had nightmares. Even our relationship. I dreaded someone finding out about us. God, look at him, they'd say. There he goes. That jock who likes to get railed by dudes."
"Jonah," I said because I couldn't think of anything to say. A piece of me mourned for the unfairly tough life he'd ended up with. It mourned for every person whose identity wasn't 'normal,' whatever normal even means.
"I do appreciate a good railing, though," he said cheekily, winking. I laughed. "Especially from you. God." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "Don't tell my boyfriend this. I love the guy, but he's got some things to learn."
"I could give him lessons," I offered. "Just send him my way."
Jonah laughed. "Careful, I might take you up on it." He shook his head. "Nah, I'll get his ass in shape."
"If anyone can, it's you," I said.
"So," Jonah said, leaning back and getting comfortable in his chair. "Let's get to it. Why the meet up?"
"Hm?"
"Come on," he prodded, "why did you want to come here? There's something you want from me, right?"
"That's kind of pessimistic. I can't just want to catch up with my old friend?"
Jonah scoffed, clearly not impressed. "Seriously?"
"I promise that's what this is," I insisted. But I felt nervous.
Jonah stared at me for a long moment. Finally, he sighed. "I was so worried back then about my inability to figure you out, but I'm starting to think that you couldn't, either."
"What?"
"It's like...I was trying to break down your walls expecting some dramatic truth to be sitting neatly on a pedestal on the other side--something I could make sense of--but in reality it's just a big mess behind them. Like, total chaos. Entropy. Big bang."
I grimaced. "That's kind of shitty to hear."
Jonah shook his head. "Nah, it's not so bad. Most people don't have their shit together. What's important is that at the center of your giant mess, you're still a good person."
"Probably."
"Definitely," Jonah said, his gaze so intense that I immediately believed him.
I took a deep breath. "So is there any way to clean my mess up?"
"Isn't that what you're doing now?" Jonah asked.
I bit the inside of my cheek. "It feels...like I am."
"That didn't sound convincing at all."
"It's just..." I felt a sudden onset of clarity. "It's meaningful, what I'm doing. It's important, I think. But I feel like it's not enough. It's surface level, like I'm treating symptoms and not the actual disease."
Jonah nodded. "Any idea what the disease is?"
I swallowed. I swear I felt shackles close tightly around my wrists, squeezing the life out of my hands. And oh, how that man wanted to do just that. Crush my hands, the cursed part of me that wasted time painting pictures instead of studying business. "My fucking father."
He looked intrigued. "Go on."
I shook my head and ran a hand over my face. "I never told you about him, I know. I've only told three people in my entire life."
"Ok, but I'll admit that maybe I was wrong. You came up with that answer pretty fast. Seems like you might have an idea what's going on up there."
I shook my head. "I wouldn't be so quick to say that. My dad was an asshole and he fucked me up badly, but there's no clear cause-effect."
"What did he do?"
Why? Why was it so hard to tell him? I'd told Beau about it literally the first time we met. I'd just stood up and ripped my shirt off so I could show a complete stranger the vulnerable marks that reminded me that I was a victim. But Beau had just seemed so exposed back then, like a scared kid; it hadn't seemed scary to show my scars to someone who had his own. Maybe Jonah was right. Maybe I didn't understand my own mind.
"Ok, I concede," Jonah said after enduring enough of my reticence. "I won't force you to tell me everything. But for now, let's just say that your dad wasn't the best and go from there."
"That's the problem, though. Where do you go from there? It's not like I can go back in time and set him straight. I was just a kid back then."
"Why not?" Jonah asked.
"Maybe because I don't have a time machine," I said.
"Sure, you do. He's still alive, isn't he?"
I stared. "Yeah." I couldn't tell if he was serious. "He's alive."
"Then you can-"
"You want me to talk to him?"
Jonah sighed. "I don't want you to do anything. This is your business. But that's my two cents. If you're serious about wanting closure, deal with the disease and not the symptoms. Your words."
I groaned and closed my eyes. I hated to admit it, but Jonah made sense. "Fuck, you're right."
"No matter what you do," he said, "it's been a good day for me. I finally got an inkling of what you've got going on, after all this time." I stared at him. "Lucky me."
"Were you worried about me, or something?" I asked.
"Not particularly," Jonah said, apparently confused.
"It's just that you called me the Ren Amano earlier, and now you're saying..." I thought better. I was just being egotistical. "Never mind."
"What is it?" Jonah pried.
I sighed. "It seems like you've been thinking about me."
Jonah bit his lip and averted his eyes. The coffee shop buzzed around us. "What makes you say that?"
"Just a feeling," I said, watching him closely. He looked more tense than he had a moment ago.
He suddenly turned to look me right in the eyes. His eyes flickered like little flames. "Maybe I thought about you."
I swallowed. All I could say was, "Oh."
Jonah groaned and leaned forward. "Ok, fine. But answer this: why did you ask to meet with me today?"
"I wanted to-"
"Catch up, I know. That's what you keep saying. But why now? Why me? Have you met with any of the other portrait subjects?"
I thought about it. The answer was a resounding no. The only other one I'd seen in person had been Aurora, and that was because we'd run into each other accidentally.
"That's what I thought," Jonah said.
"So why did you come?" I asked.
"Look, Ren. I have a boyfriend who I love very much. From what I gather, so do you. That's not what this is about," he explained. "My theory is that some people work well together, romantically or, in our case, not so much."
"But we were once involved. It wasn't bad, either," I admitted.
"That doesn't mean we always have to be. They're just memories now," he said.
I nodded. "So we're two of those people...the ones who work well together."
"It's why you wanted to meet, and it's why I agreed," he said. "So if we fall out of touch again, I'll hunt you down and destroy you." Jonah smiled sweetly. "Got it?"
❦
Amory seemed...weird. He was staring at the wall, his hands frozen in place. Half of the pastries he'd been plating were resting neglected on the baking sheet.
"Amory?" I said, leaning towards him. He didn't respond. "Amory?" I said again, waving my hand in front of his face.
He blinked rapidly for a solid two seconds before finally looking at me. "Huh?"
"Penny for your thoughts," I said, amused. I'd never seen him like this. Who was this guy and what had he done with Amory? All his usual over-the-top energy had vanished. No, not vanished. It had just transformed, turned inward where normally he projected it out into the world. There was a chaotic storm raging inside of him, manifesting itself in a completely tranquil exterior.
"I think my thoughts are worth more than a penny," Amory said, eagerly plating the rest of the pastries. He immediately left the kitchen as soon as he finished. Was he...avoiding me?
I would have followed him, but I needed to finish my work. If I kept up my habits, I'd get fired. I'd been slacking too much lately. There were a million things on my mind, but not so many that I couldn't spare a little energy for a friend.
When Amory finally turned up again in the kitchen, I grabbed his arm.
He stared at where I held him and then met my gaze. "You're getting flour on me."
I sighed. "Will you just tell me already? I'm here. I'm waiting."
Amory frowned. I didn't like this new sullen version of Amory that had appeared lately, but I wouldn't dare tell him that. Something told me both that he couldn't help it and that he needed help. "Tell you what?"
"What it is that's bothering you. That's been bothering you for weeks," I said, dropping his arm. We were the only two in the kitchen. I doubted anyone else would come. We were usually the only ones who did the actual baking these days. "Come on, I know you like to remain a bit of an enigma, but I like to think I know you at least well enough to be able to tell when something's wrong."
For a brief moment, he looked like he was going to tell me something. Emotion slid over his features, but he promptly bottled it up again. "It's nothing, Beau. Don't worry about me, alright? And how about you? Are things ok with you and Roommate?"
I shook my head. "This isn't about me. You once told me that you have a restless soul and that you can't talk about it, but isn't that lonely? You didn't want to talk back then, and I let it slide. But not this time."
Amory pinched the bridge of his nose. "Beau, can you just let it be? You don't know anything."
"That's the problem! I don't know anything. But it's because you won't tell me anything," I said, getting angrier. "I just want to be there for you. Aren't we friends, Amory?"
"Friends don't need to tell each other everything!" Amory shot back, his voice rising to match mine. He fought to control his emotions, clearing his throat. "Not everything."
"Does it have something to do with that day at Miller's office?" I asked.
Amory's whole body went still. His face was hidden behind his hair, but I could tell I'd hit a nerve. "Miller said that you got bad news that day. What was it?" I asked.
"Bad news," Amory repeated. He laughed, but it was a sad sound. His laughter was empty, anguished. "Bad news!" Amory exclaimed, raising his head. He had tears in his eyes. I rushed to his side, taking his hands. "He said it was bad news!"
"Amory," I said, holding his hands tightly. "What did Miller say? Something about school? Are you ok?"
He shook his head. "Goddamnit."
I'd never really heard him swear before, the sort of swear that cuts deep. It was the sort of utterance that gives real form to pain and fury. You say the words and suddenly your mysterious, invisible agony makes sense. One size fits all.
I wanted to acknowledge him. I didn't want him to feel isolated by that pain. I quickly wiped his tears away, leading him by the hand towards the back of the bakery. I didn't care about skipping work any longer. If I got fired, it'd be worth it.
I sat him down on a stack of sacks of flour and plopped down on a crate beside him. The pantry was small but big enough that we could sit comfortably without being cramped. The real problem was the lack of light. I could barely see his face but could tell he was still crying.
"Talk to me, Amory," I whispered.
Maybe it was the darkness--the invisibility--that allowed him to speak freely. He sniffed quietly and then promptly poured out his guts. "I told you that I am restless, and it was true. It was. I never really had a home, and I never wanted one. I moved around so often when I was young--because of my parents' jobs--that I got used to brief relationships and fast fascination."
I listened to him in silence. His words were swallowed by the eerie stillness of the pantry. Maybe that was a good thing, though. I wanted him to feel safe.
"Even when I decided to stay in New York for school, I thought it would always be like that. The four years would end and I would leave again, get on with the eternal travels. But I realized how tired I am. My feet are bleeding, and I don't want to walk anymore."
I took his hand. He let me, even squeezed my fingers weakly. I couldn't figure out what, if anything, this had to do with Miller.
"I want to stay in New York. That's what I thought. I realized it all at once, and I've never felt that way before. I've never felt this way before," Amory said. I felt his eyes on me even though I couldn't make them out entirely.
"So stay," I said quietly.
"I can't anymore," he said.
"What?" I demanded. "Are you leaving?"
"No!" Amory said loudly, panicked. Then his voice broke. He choked back a sob. "Maybe."
"Why? What happened?"
Amory collapsed in on himself. He bent over his knees, pulling my hand close to his chest. I felt his warm tears fall on my skin. When he spoke, I barely heard him even in dead silence.
"I found out what real love feels like."
My chest ached sharply. "Oh." I guess I knew why Amory had been so strange and quiet lately. He'd been working through a lot.
"And it is horrible," Amory said, his voice breathy. "Ça fait mal."
"Is it really so bad?" I asked. "You gave me advice once. Maybe I can return the favor?"
"I think I am cursed," Amory said. "The first person I ever really wanted to stay close to and he tells me to give up, to go away. Bad news!"
Bad news? What did--Oh. Oh.
Bad news.
I leaned closer to Amory, ever so slightly. "It's... Is it Miller?"
Immediately, he dropped my hand. "No," he said coldly. He moved to leave, but I launched myself at the door before he could get to it. I slammed into it, shutting it entirely before he could escape. "Amory, maybe I can help."
"I shouldn't have told you any of this," he said. "I'm not the kind of person who-"
"Stay!" I shouted. He stopped moving and stared at me. "You're not the kind of person who what? Who trusts people? Who helps them, listens to them, becomes good friends with them? Or you're not the kind of person who falls in love?"
"All of those things," he said. "I don't have time anyway. I'll be gone."
"You don't have to leave if you don't want to," I said. "Especially not if it's just habit or if you're doing it because you're scared. So tell me about him. Tell me what's wrong."
"I can't."
"It is Miller, isn't it?" I pushed. "Just admit it, Amory. Trust me. It'll be a lot easier if you do."
My eyes had adjusted to the darkness a little. I watched him cover his face with his hands. He nodded, not dropping them until after he finished speaking. "He told me to call him James," Amory said. He took a shaky breath. "He's so kind."
This was serious. Amory wasn't kidding around like he had been with me.
"I'm sorry, Beau," Amory said. He pressed a hand to his chest. "I was not the right person to ask for advice back then."
I scoffed. "Bit more complicated than you made it out to be, isn't it?"
Amory nodded. "I'm trapped. For a person who has spent his entire life roaming the world, untethered, that is a terrible fate."
"So you're serious about this?" I asked. "About Miller."
"James," he corrected. "He is just James." Amory stared at me. "You think I'm strange."
"I never said that," I said. "I didn't see it coming, but... You mean because he's our professor?"
Amory nodded. I watched him grip his own wrist tightly and awkwardly shift his weight. He was uncharacteristically anxious. "I didn't want you to find out at first, and then I wanted so badly for you to find out because if you finally knew maybe you could tell me that I'm crazy and it would all go away."
I sighed and pulled him into a hug. I didn't want him to feel ashamed. I'd always felt that love is love, even when the world told me otherwise. That was something mom had taught me. "I don't think there's anything wrong with it," I said quietly. Amory held me tightly, clinging to me for guidance. I never thought I'd see the day. "James isn't even that much older than you. He's what, late twenties?"
"He's eight years older than me," Amory whispered.
"That's not that much," I said. "And he's a good man. I can tell."
"Yeah."
"Listen, Amory," I said, withdrawing so that I could look into his eyes. I wanted him to know that I was serious. "He's your professor, so it's unusual. But it doesn't invalidate how you feel. You're not crazy. Hell, I spent half a year in love with my roommate. I tried desperately to reject those feelings because I was afraid, but you can't fight them when they're this strong. I know you think you were spouting nonsense to me, but it's like you said: your heart will have nowhere to go. Doesn't matter if you move to Africa or if you stay right there in his class. He'll stay with you."
"Yeah," he said. "I know that."
I couldn't blame Amory for falling in love with Miller. He was a great person who genuinely cared about his students. He'd helped me figure out how I felt about Ren and about life, sure, but what really got me was how easily he'd done it. Miller mysteriously knew that writing that essay would help me despite barely having spoken to me. Maybe he had some filter in those glasses that let him read people's thoughts.
Amory probably wasn't used to anyone being able to read his thoughts.
"I never told him the truth," Amory admitted. "I wanted to, but he stopped me."
"What happened?" I asked, sitting him back down.
"I met him off campus," Amory said. "We were in the same subway car. What are the chances of that?"
"Pretty low," I admitted.
"He was reading a book on the train and was so focused that he didn't realize I was there. I didn't want to say anything, so I watched him. I was curious. Where was he going? What was he reading? My stop came, but when I started to get up to leave, he did this...thing." Amory spoke with such intimate fondness that I just about started blushing. "He pushed his glasses farther up his nose with his pinky finger. That was all. That's all he did. And then I just couldn't leave. The doors shut again, and I sat back down."
"Why?" I asked.
"Because I wanted to see him do it again."
I couldn't help it. A little sound of adoration escaped my throat, having shot up directly from my heart where Amory's story had squeezed it out of me.
Amory looked like he wanted to tear his hair out. "I had a date that night. A beautiful girl was waiting for me, but I blew her off so that I could sit there waiting for his glasses to fall down his nose again."
"Did you say something to him?" I asked.
"I didn't have to. He noticed me first." Amory turned towards me, suddenly bursting with energy. "You know, I always thought he was charming up there teaching, putting up with Brown's bullshit, but when he saw me and smiled I just..." Amory groaned and thumped his chest like he was trying to dislodge the love stuck in it. "I just could not move away from him! He's so different outside of school when he doesn't have his big professor pants on."
I laughed. "So what happened after that?" I couldn't help it. I wanted to know. I lived for cheesy romance novels and rom-coms. Mom and I used to watch them together and fawn over cute guys, heart-wrenching tragedies, and happy endings. I wondered what sort of ending Amory would get.
"He said hello, put his book down, and invited me to dinner."
"Dinner?" I said, shocked.
Amory nodded. "Said he wouldn't mind having a friend on campus since he's still new. Apparently, he hasn't lived in New York that long."
"So you went on a date?" I said.
"It wasn't a date. We just got food. And then we walked in Central Park for a while. He talked about how he was worried that he couldn't do enough for his students as just an assistant professor, that Brown had too much power despite being such a shitty guy."
Sounds an awful lot like a date, I thought but kept that sentiment to myself. "So you just talked about school?"
"No. He talked about his parents and his younger sister. And he wanted to know more about me, so I told him. I just told him. Only because he asked. Because I wanted him to know more about me," Amory said. "And I don't tell people about myself. That's not something I do."
"Believe me," I said. "I know."
"Since that night, I've visited his office sometimes. We have long talks about philosophy because he makes it actually interesting. His eyes light up when he talks about it, and I like seeing him like that."
Amory looked absolutely lost in it. He looked like a love-struck kid with hearts floating around his head and sunshine in his eyes. It was a good look on him. I wondered if I looked like that around Ren. "Have you seen him off-campus since then?"
Amory scowled and shook his head. "I asked to get dinner with him but he makes excuses every time. And then..." The hearts around his head dissolved, and he wilted like a lonely flower. "I found out why he kept turning me down. I was in his office and all of a sudden I really wanted him to know how much I liked spending time with him, that I missed him when we weren't together. I just wanted him to know who I felt. So I started to tell him clumsily, like a fool. But before I could get three words out, he told me about how excited he was to see his girlfriend because he hadn't seen her for so long."
I watched his words whiz towards me and felt them punch me directly in the gut. "What!?"
"He has a girlfriend. She apparently lives right here in New York. She was the reason he took a temporary assistant job at NYU despite it being a far cry from the position he wants."
"Is that what he told you that day?" I asked, suddenly putting it all together. "The bad news?" I felt disappointed. I was sad for Amory and a little angry at Miller for letting it get this far without any intention of following through. How could he let Amory fall in love with him and just toss him aside like that?
Amory nodded. He quickly swiped at the corner of his eye, probably hoping that I hadn't noticed the flush of emotion on his cheeks and the sorrowful sparkle in his eye. "I thought--" Amory shook his head and hid his face in his hands. "I thought he felt something. Je suis un imbécile."
"Maybe he did," I said.
"Merde, Beau, you don't think I lie awake in the night and go over this in my head? There are no real happy endi-"
"Of course, there are!" I interrupted. I really wanted Amory to be happy. I hated to admit it, but it wasn't entirely for his sake. Something in me might have believed that if Amory could have a healthy relationship with Miller, I could have one with Ren. Confusing, unfair, heart-rending, irresistible love with someone who's leagues ahead of you, miles away from you, maybe even from an entirely different planet. Merde indeed.
"Look, maybe the reason he doesn't want to have dinner with you is because he has feelings for you, and he doesn't want to hurt his girlfriend. Like, he's in denial. Maybe he moved to New York expecting to settle down with this girlfriend, but despite all of his expectations and planning, he was never able to plan for you."
The way I said it, it sounded so over-the-top, impossibly romantic. It was a cheesy sort of romantic that hurt a little but also felt guilty-good. It was something straight out of one of the cheap romance paperbacks mom always used to bring home. But if miracle stories like those didn't exist in the real world, where would Ren and I go? What future awaited us?
I sighed. "You need to talk to him," I said. Amory looked horrified. The sword I turned against Amory was double-edged. My own advice made my insides churn. I had to tell Ren what was going on in my head. Because... "When you love someone, that's what you do."
"What good would that do?" Amory asked. "He moved across the country for his girlfriend. He's only known me for a few months. How am I supposed to compete with her?"
"You never know," I said. "Maybe it's fated."
"That's unfair."
"Why? Because it's hard?"
"No, because even if he does feel something for me and leaves her for me...what about her? You know?" he said. I paused. I hadn't really even thought about her. I suddenly felt like a scumbag. "And he's technically my professor."
"Not for too much longer, though," I pointed out.
"It's just shitty," Amory said.
I opened my mouth to argue with him. No, it's not so shitty, I wanted to say. But the truth was that love is shitty. It really is. Sometimes.
And other times, it's enough to convince a tired, lonely kid that life is worth living.