15

Nico

Nico sat on the floor of the dorm room for a long time. The building was never truly silent, so he listened to the sounds: the wind raking the roof; the plonk of rain drops against the glass; the ping and clang of the old boilers. His face felt hot. His eyes were dry. He made lists in his head: pack, find a hotel, call an Uber. Then he’d start over, amending the list: find a hotel first, then pack. Find a hotel that you can afford. Get an Uber.

Instead, he changed into running shorts and a tank. He grabbed a hoodie and realized, too late, it was Jadon’s, so he left it. He left his phone too, and his last thought, as he pulled the door shut, was, Fuck it.

His run took him into Forest Park again. He made sure not to follow the same route that Jadon had taken him on. That was part of the reason, he was sure, why the park felt so different. And the fact that it was late afternoon, moving into evening—that was part of it too. The sun was a small, hard ember in the west, the sky brushed in broad purple strokes, and dark hung in the branches, thickening. He passed two women fighting, shouting as they shoved each other until one of them misjudged a curb and fell, screaming. He passed an old man laying out a piece of cardboard on a bench, the tarp on the ground next to him suggesting he planned to spend the night. One of the tiny creeks he crossed was choked with foam go-cups and single-use plastic bags and what he thought, in the gloom, might have been a dead possum. The sound of his steps on the pavement seemed too loud, echoing out into the vast darkness, and even though his body warmed and loosened as he ran, he felt cold the whole time. He caught himself thinking, occasionally, treacherously, of the hoodie. And then he’d have to remind himself that it was Jadon’s. The pain was like something lodged under his breastbone. In his mind, it was the tip of a knife.

When his legs were shaking and he couldn’t run anymore—could barely walk—he dragged himself back to campus. Full dark had settled. The campus lights popped on in little white spheres that didn’t do much to push back the night. A group of grad students—math, he guessed, or engineering—passed him; they were dressed in normal clothes, but they wore headbands printed with equations and formulae, and they were laughing and talking excitedly. One of them (the only one Nico recognized, the Pythagorean theorem) shoved his friend as he laughed, and then shouted, “We are all totally going to make love tonight!”

Make love, Nico thought, and he waited for the giggle. Instead, tears stung his eyes, and he had to grapple with the wave of emotion that threatened to crush him.

Harlow Hall was roasting after the chill October evening, and the heat was half-welcome to Nico and half-suffocating. He dried his face with the tank as he pushed into the stairwell. A startled squawk made him freeze. And then he stared.

On the other side of the door, Gio was rubbing his shoulder and glaring—first at the door, and then at Nico. Next to him stood Dr. Meza, who had changed into a marled sweater and looked elegantly casual. They were holding hands.

Gio reacted first, dropping Meza’s hand as color rushed into his face. Meza considered Nico, but his expression remained cool and unperturbed. He caught the door, met Nico’s eyes, and said, “Evening, Nico. I guess you’re not joining us for dinner.”

How long had it been? An hour? Two? Nico tried to work out the sequence of events. At most, two hours had passed since that awful encounter on the quad. And in that time, Meza had already moved on. What had it been, Nico wondered. A blow job in the dorm room? Or maybe they were saving that for a more romantical evening, and today, in a hurry, it had been making out, maybe a quick fiver? It must have been a rush for Meza, hooking Gio so quickly. Or maybe he’d been working on him all week, the way he’d been doing with Nico.

Now, to Nico’s surprise, the giggles came. He shook his head, fighting another wave of laughter as he said, “No, Dr. Meza. I won’t be joining you.”

Annoyance tightened Meza’s features. Gio still looked scared out of his mind.

“But I hope you have a lovely evening,” Nico said as he slid past them. “Oh, and Gio, remember that old people’s skin is delicate, so, you know: watch your teeth.”

Meza let out a sharp breath. Gio murmured something. Nico didn’t look back, and a moment later, the door at the bottom of the stairwell closed.

He showered until the shaking in his legs stopped. Then he padded to his room. No towel, mostly because he’d forgotten one. But also because he couldn’t bring himself to care. If Dr. Chapman spotted him, the old man was going to get an eyeful.

Jadon had been right, he thought as he stood in the tiny room, considering the clothes laid out on the bed. Right about the pretense. Right about Nico’s desperation. Right about the ridiculousness of the whole situation. Quarter-zips and button-ups and cardigans. So many goddamn chinos. Nico hadn’t even brought his best tanks—just athletic ones in neutral colors. Who the fuck was I kidding, he thought, and a wave of tears came again. Self-pity, mostly. But also frustration. And anger at himself, for having believed so much bullshit. For having wanted so badly to believe it.

He slipped into Jadon’s hoodie. It was warm, light, soft. His underwear was gone, so he found a pair of joggers and pulled them on. He’d made a mess, shoving everything into one suitcase, so now he went to work packing things the way he should have. Like an adult, Emery would have said. That made him smile, but it also made him want to cry.

It had been an overreaction, which was classic Nico. Letting his temper slip. His emotions getting the best of him. Pretty on the outside, one of his exes had told him once, and an ugly little fucker on the inside. And wasn’t that the truth? Because Jadon hadn’t been trying to ruin Nico’s career—Nico had blown the whole thing out of proportion. Hell, even saying he had a career was blowing things out of proportion. What had actually happened? Jadon had been worried for him. Jadon had been…protective. And, yes, a little jealous, which Nico could admit that he liked. The memory flashed of a kiss in the Pretty Pretty, of the untapped well of Emery’s rage, and his face heated with embarrassment. So, maybe Jadon had been out of line, first in speaking for Nico when he answered Dr. Meza’s question, and then when he had insisted he knew what was best. But the ugly stuff, the hurtful things, those hadn’t started until Nico had struck first—until he’d ramped everything up, higher and higher, the way he always did. His face got hot as he remembered how easily Jadon had identified Nico’s hypocrisy.

With a sound of disgust, he gave up on folding the clothes neatly, shoved the rest of them in the second roller bag, and decided that was good enough. He was fairly sure Emery wasn’t going to inspect his luggage—fairly sure was about as good as it got with Emery, who might, at any point, decide that Nico’s packing required his supervision. He’d order takeout, hole up in the dorm room, and yes, unashamedly barricade the door with the spare bed. And tomorrow, Emery would be here, and he’d go home, and this would all be over.

A knock at the door sent a flush of startlement prickling through him. He stared at the door, trying to tell if he’d engaged the thumb lock. Then another knock came and, “Nico? It’s Maya.”

She looked fantastic—a wrap dress with a chunky cardigan, gold bangles of varying sizes on one arm, a heavy gold necklace that managed to look both old-fashioned and stylish at the same time. She looked at him, looked past him, and then asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m all right. I guess.”

She gave him another appraising look. “And you’re not going to dinner? Don’t let that asshole win, Nico. There’s still time, and you deserve to celebrate—Dr. Young practically fell out of her chair telling you how much she liked your paper.”

“No, she said—she said I made some good points. And anyway, it’s not—” He caught himself about to tell her that Jadon wasn’t an asshole, and that it wasn’t about winning. But he changed it to: “I think I’m going to stay in tonight.”

“Want to talk about it?”

They ended up on the bed (the clean one), and Nico told her about all of it—the stalker, Jadon, the weird half-argument about North and Shaw that had escalated into something uglier when they’d run into Dr. Meza, and then the fight in the dorm room.

“That slimy piece of shit,” Maya said.

“Honestly, Maya, Jadon’s a good guy. I think it was a lot of bad stuff happening at once, and I didn’t make it any better.”

“No, that’s obviously at least fifty percent your fault. I’m talking about Meza. I thought he might be a scumbag—he’s too smooth, you know? But I didn’t think he’d proposition a grad student at a seminar in exchange for publication.”

“Yeah, well, that offer is off the table.” Maya’s thick eyebrows knitted together, and Nico added, “I think he and Gio already had round one. I caught them in the stairwell.”

“What a sleaze.”

“Who cares? It’s over.”

“I care. Assholes like him get away with this kind of behavior—” With an obvious effort, she stopped herself. “I won’t go on my rant.”

“Rant away.”

“No, you already know how I feel.”

“But you’ll feel better if you tell me again.”

She thought about it. And then she said, “In the first place, the only reason he gets away with this is because he’s a white man in an institution dominated by white men, and he uses marginalized people’s vulnerabilities against them.”

It went on for a bit after that.

“Feel better?” Nico asked.

“No,” she snapped. “Now what are you going to do about Jadon?”

“What am I going to do? Nothing.”

Maya gave him a disgusted look.

“There’s nothing I can do, Maya. I said some pretty shitty things to him. About the shittiest, actually.”

“Which you didn’t mean.”

“Obviously I didn’t mean that stuff. I mean, not all of it. I got carried away.”

“No, you overreacted. You get that, right?”

“Yes, thank you.” Nico couldn’t keep the waspish tone out of the words. “I did manage to figure out that much on my own.”

“So, you tell him you overreacted. And you tell him you’re sorry. That’s basically how an apology goes.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me. He definitely doesn’t want anything to do with me, not now.”

“How about you let him make that decision?”

Nico chose to ignore that. “And anyway, even if I did apologize, he’s in this weird place right now, and I don’t think he’d let himself, you know, see what could happen with us. Maybe he’d try. For a while. But things would get bad at work, or he’d feel like he wasn’t doing enough, and eventually he’d cut me off.”

A little too loudly, a little too forcefully, and definitely a little patronizingly, Maya said, “Oh.”

“You can leave now.”

“I didn’t realize that the prerequisite for any relationship is that it be perfect and have an ironclad guarantee that it’ll last forever.”

“You realize nobody else sees you be this bitchy. They all think you’re sweet and polite and professional all the time.”

“That’s their loss. Nico, you’ve got your head up your butt. I’m saying that sweetly and politely and professionally, because what I want to tell you is that you’ve got your head so far up your ass, you could use your throat as a periscope.”

“Seems a bit labored.”

“Nico!”

“I don’t know what you want me to say!”

Maya took a breath. She smoothed her dress over her leg. Then, to Nico’s surprise, she took his hand. “How about this? Let’s start with why you’re scared of going out with Jadon.” Nico opened his mouth, but before he could speak, she said, “And don’t tell me you’re not scared. He’s gorgeous. He’s kind. He’s clearly got the patience of a saint. And if the last few days don’t tell you how much he’s willing to sacrifice for you, then you’ve been walking around with your eyes closed. But you don’t want to even see if there’s a possibility with him. It’s easier to sit here and tell me he’s gone and it’s over and that’s too bad, but life will go on. And that’s bullshit.”

Nico shook his head. Tears started in his eyes, and he blinked them away. “Okay, well, I don’t know why everyone acts like I’m crazy because I want to be taken seriously as a scholar and hooking up at a seminar—oh my God, I think your nails are literally inside my hand!”

With a saccharine smile, Maya relaxed her grip. She patted Nico’s leg with her free hand. “You were saying?”

“I—” But for the first time in a long time, Nico was too tired to put up with his own bullshit. He drew his legs up, pulled his knees to his chest, found a more comfortable spot against the wall. Maya sat with him, her talons—thank God—mercifully withdrawn. “Before you and I were friends, I was dating this guy, Chendo.”

Maya seemed to consider what to say. “I heard a little about him.”

“How he got murdered?”

“That.”

“He was…well, I mean, it feels so weird to say this out loud, but he was abusive. Not physically, but pretty much every other way you can imagine. He’d send me texts about how he was cheating on me. He’d say the most horrible things. About how I was worthless in pretty much every way. About how that’s why he cheated, because I couldn’t give him what he wanted. And I put up with it for a long time. I don’t know why.” His throat was dry, and he heard himself say again. “I don’t know why.”

Maya rubbed his arm.

“And then he was dead, and I couldn’t—I mean I couldn’t even process that, couldn’t make sense of it. I never got to tell that fucker off. I never got to stand up for myself. He was gone. And I’d eaten his shit for so long. And then I met Emery, and—”

“I know,” Maya said. “I remember.”

“It wasn’t the breakup, Maya. I’m happy for him and John-Henry.” His laugh caught in his throat. “Well, most days. But while Emery and I were dating—God, it was torture. I still had all this insecurity about Chendo. I was angry at him. I was sad. I was angry that I felt sad, that I was sad even the tiniest bit. I was angry that he was gone and I’d never get to tell him to fuck off. And meanwhile, Emery and John-Henry were falling in love. Emery’s not perfect, but he’s a great guy, and I had to stand on the sidelines and watch as he fell in love with somebody else. And every time I tried to talk to him about it, every time I wanted to do something about it, he’d pretend it wasn’t happening, or that he didn’t know what I was talking about.”

“He was gaslighting you.”

“I don’t know. That’s harsh, and honestly, that’s not Emery. I think he didn’t know. Or didn’t want to believe it. And we did talk about it, eventually. But the bottom line is that, for the second relationship in a row, I felt like I was going crazy. I’d meet these guys. I’d feel a connection. And then the whole world would turn inside out because no matter how much they liked how I look, they didn’t like me. Not as a person. And I—I’m tired of that. I don’t want that. I want the next guy to be someone who loves me for who I am.”

“And it’d be nice if you had some scholarly credentials,” Maya said with a hint of a smile, “to prove how good and worthy and valuable you are on the inside.”

“Okay, first of all, you don’t have to be such a bitch.”

Maya broke up laughing, and after a moment, Nico smiled too.

“How do you know he doesn’t like who you are on the inside?” Maya asked. “Jadon, I mean.”

Nico shrugged.

“That’s not good enough.”

“Oh my God. I don’t know, Maya. He bragged to his buddies about hooking up with an underwear model. I mean, I didn’t lure him into bed by talking about Christian existentialism.”

“So, you did hook up with him?”

Nico gave her a flat look.

“It wasn’t this bed, was it?”

“Thank you for your help, Dr. Freud. I’m fine now. You can go.”

“I’m serious. What makes you say he doesn’t value who you are as a person? Did he do something one of your exes did? Did he say something?”

“I told you about that conversation with Dr. Meza. It’s like I wasn’t even there; Jadon took over.”

Maya stared at him long enough to communicate what Nico took to be total disbelief in how stupid he was. “He’s a guy.”

“Right, but—”

“And a cop—”

“Okay, yes—”

“Of course he’s going to get all bristly and protective. And he definitely didn’t like that Dr. Meza was being such a creep.”

“He said it was stupid, arguing about old books. That I was wasting my time.”

“After you riled him up.”

Nico opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“Look,” Maya said, “I don’t know the guy. Maybe he’s a superficial jerk, like you say. But I haven’t heard anything that sounds like that’s the case.”

Shutting his mouth slowly, Nico tried to think. Yes, in the argument, Jadon had been dismissive of Nico’s work. But had that been true more generally? He thought about Jadon’s insistence that Nico finish his paper. How Jadon had snuck food into the library so Nico could keep working. How Jadon had asked about Kierkegaard and kept asking, wanting to know. And how he had listened. How he had remembered. He thought about how Jadon had changed the location of their first meal because he’d noticed Nico was interested in the Walk of Fame, how he’d wanted to give Nico another piece of history.

Maya was looking annoyingly smug.

“I don’t like you,” Nico told her.

She smirked. “Of course you don’t. You love me. Now get dressed. We’re going to dinner, the two of us.”

On the verge of saying yes, Nico stopped himself. “Actually,” he said slowly, “I think I’ve already got plans. A Halloween party.”

“With a certain detective?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.” Even to him, Nico’s grin felt sheepish. “I hope so.”

“God, this is adorable.”

“No, it’s not.”

“And pathetic.”

“No, it’s not.”

“You’re practically glowing. Where’s the dark, angsty bitch I fell in love with?”

“I’m still angsty,” Nico said. “I’m still a bitch.”

Maya hopped off the bed and kissed his cheek. “Come on. Let’s figure out a costume.”

“What about the closing dinner for the seminar?”

She scoffed and waved a hand.

“Oh no,” Nico said. “You’re going. You’ve got to go. Otherwise, Gio is going to take over the conversation, and Kaylee and Ridson are literally going to die from overexposure.”

“They’ll be fine—”

“Besides, Dr. Chapman wanted to talk to you about that summer fellowship—”

“I can email him.”

“—and if you don’t go, I’m going to stop being your friend and cut all ties.”

Maya didn’t look particularly frightened by that threat.

“Go,” Nico said, nudging her toward the door. “I’ll be fine. I’ll get my costume, and I’ll call Jadon, and I’ll keep you updated in case I’m wrong and he hates my guts and I have to go eat myself to death in a Ben and Jerry’s.”

“Text me every five minutes.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Every ten minutes.”

“I’m closing the door now.” As it swung shut, Nico sang out, “I love you.”

Maya laughed as her steps moved away down the hall.

Nico considered his options. Almost all the clothes he’d brought were professional and responsible and would have satisfied any straight guy shopping for outfits at Target. He could do something with that—like a hot nerd, maybe, which wasn’t a costume idea so much as a way to get in Jadon’s pants again. The fake glasses, maybe. Jadon had gotten a kick out of those. The real shame was that Halloween was in the fall because what Nico wanted Jadon to see was the tiny swim shorts—

Oh, Nico thought. Lifeguard. Easy.

He changed into a pair of tiny red shorts—technically, they were for running, not for swimming, but they had white trim that was cute and retro, and they made his legs look amazing. And, if Nico were being honest with himself, his junk too. He kept Jadon’s hoodie on for now; in a pinch, he’d wear it to complete the costume, but he had the thought that if he hurried, he could still get into the school store and find a windbreaker—something that a lifeguard might wear on a windy California beach. Something that he could leave hanging open, so his chest and belly were on display.

He stepped into a pair of slides and gave himself a once over in the mirror. A whistle. They’d probably have one of those as well in the school store—self-defense. And then one more idea hit him, and he dug through his toiletry bag until he found what he wanted: a moisturizing lotion with sunscreen. Daily skin care routine, obvs. But even more importantly, tonight he’d lay a thick white stripe of zinc down his nose. Lifeguard to the rescue. He tucked the bottle into a pocket of the tiny shorts (it fit, which was amazing all on its own).

Phone in one hand, keys in the other, he headed out of the dorm. Darkness had settled over everything, but light pollution made the sky seem low and flat. Oppressive, Nico thought. Like a steel lid. The air still smelled woody and wet, and even as Nico wondered about the rain, a fresh spritz caught him. He thought he heard footsteps, but when he turned, all he saw were new-fallen leaves tumbling and scraping across the pavement. He was wound too tight; too many days of looking over his shoulder (figuratively and literally). The party would be a step in the right direction. And making things right with Jadon, that too.

Unlocking his phone as he crossed the quad, he bobbed in and out of pools of darkness. He tapped Jadon’s name and put the phone to his ear. The call rang. Leaves spun and fell, and when they whispered against the brick footpaths, Nico thought again that they sounded like the scuff of soles. And then the sound was louder, unmistakably footfalls. Nico started to turn—

The blow connected with the side of his head, and his world went white. He didn’t lose consciousness, but for several moments, the connection between his brain and body lagged, and all he could do was stumble. A hand caught Jadon’s hoodie and yanked, and somehow, Nico kept his balance and managed to slip free, leaving the hoodie behind. He tried to catch himself, and then he fell as the weight of another body bore him down to the ground. Fingers forced something hard and rubbery between his teeth, stifling his cry for help before he could fully form it. His arms were forced up between his shoulder blades until he screamed against the gag. Then rope tightened around his wrists, and he could feel the change in the other body: the slackening of muscles, the physical relief. Because, a part of Nico knew, the hard part was done. It was over.