Don’t Be in Love

44

Don’t Let Him Go — Adelaide

Thunder roared outside my balcony the next night. Kurt curled up on my slippers under my desk as I clicked out of my empty inbox and finished scrolling through positions in Boston.

My door creaked open, and Sabrina poked her head in.

“There’s someone downstairs for you.” She smiled.

My heart plummeted.

“Who?”

“You know who.” She closed the door behind her. Kurt leapt from my slippers, letting out a disgruntled meow, as I jumped from my seat. I threw on actual shoes, smoothed out my sweatshirt and brushed a hand down my hair before running down the stairwell to the lobby.

I froze on the bottom step. Dorian was in a soaked black T-shirt and barn jacket under the awning outside.

Reluctantly, I took the last step and stepped outside, jolting him. “What are you doing here?” I asked, folding my arms deep into the crevices of my sweatshirt to avoid brushing the wet strands of black hair sticking to his forehead.

“Ya know, just enjoying the rain.” He shrugged.

“Did you walk all the way here?”

“No, I took a cab. But I arrived ten minutes ago and have been pacing ever since.”

“Why are you here?” I asked.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” I checked around the street for anyone watching.

“Why do you think I’ve been out here for the past ten minutes?”

I sighed. “Someone’s going to see us, you should come inside—”

He shook his head. “I just came here for one thing.”

“Alright, what is it?”

“Christmas Eve, I asked—”

“The last thing I want to hear about is Christmas Eve, Dorian.” I turned and pushed the door—

He grabbed the handle, caging me in.

“Let me finish,” he said. I turned around, my back to the door, but he didn’t move. I could see every crinkle that lined his lips. Each crinkle that I loved. Every feature he had offered up to Victoria.

All I could picture was him kissing her. Or her perfectly manicured nails running through his hair as she kissed him. I wondered if that’s how he looked when we kissed. And if he ever thought about me while kissing her.

My dinner rolled in my stomach.

Now, his face was a mosaic of emotion while mine was numb, incapable of forming any expression that wasn’t dismal.

“Christmas Eve,” he restarted, “I went to her place to tell her it was over.”

“You did what?”

“She wasn’t happy about what I had to say. She told me you’d never want me and that you’d leave me before I even had a chance to tell you how I felt.” I felt ill . I had done exactly what she said. “I’ve been trying to have this conversation with her for years, and she thought she could convince me otherwise by trying to kiss me but realistically, we’ve been through for a long time. I pulled away the second she was on me.”

I stared at him in shock. I should believe him. But what if? What if he was lying? What if he went straight up to her apartment after?

The images of them from this semester wouldn’t shift. I couldn’t picture him pushing someone so beautiful off him. Someone that made sense for him on a tax bracket level.

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked.

“Because I want you to know that everything I’ve said to you is true. I want to be with you.”

“Dorian, I’m leaving, after graduation. I’m moving back to Boston.”

His face fell. “You’re what?”

“I’m going back home at the end of the semester. There’s nothing for me here.”

“I’m here,” he said.

“That doesn’t change that you still love her ,” I pressed.