Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

Avery

I BARELY NEED my usual morning jasmine tea to get me going today. I'm buzzing from waking up with Diego cuddled behind me, my body light and humming. I float through my morning routine of making tea and scrolling through my phone before I have to get ready to head to campus to use the library. I'm not going to ditch my study group this time. In fact, I plan to go to the university early and camp out at the library so I can't possibly miss them. At least, that's the idea, but my my routine is stalling out as I scroll through social media feeds, my brain sliding right off the words and gifs and pictures and looping back to thoughts of Diego.

I can't seem to stop touching my hair. I dry it so it doesn't drip all over everything, straighten it, and throw it into its usual high ponytail, but then I keep running it through my hands. The ghost of Diego's touch lingers in each strand, and somehow that memory is replaying more powerfully than anything else we did while naked.

As much as I want to replay all of it, I do need to get out of the house today. I dress needlessly cute in leggings under a thigh-length skirt and my coziest sweater, then head for campus. But my mind never really joins my body in the campus library. Normally, I love being here, but today I can't summon an ounce of focus. All I'm thinking about is whether or not I should text Diego when I take a break to get some food at the cafeteria. I told him to text me, but he hasn't yet. I remind myself it's been a scant few hours since I saw him and I shouldn't be disappointed, but I'm needy, especially after the night we just had. I want to hear that he's thinking of me, that he can't focus either, that I'm as much of a distraction to him as he is to me.

I hold myself back. Even when I leave the library, I manage not to text him. I don't want to scare the guy off just when he's opening up to me. For him to say we can do this again as long as we aren't stupid about it is huge. It means this is real. It's going to keep happening. He isn't running from me. I don't want to do anything that could jeopardize that.

I'm on the big, wide main path that goes past the dining hall and student center and all that stuff when I spot him. My heart dances around my chest like a little kid given too much sugar.

No. Play it cool, Avery. You're on campus. You're in public.

Right. If I get too excited, it could scare Diego and make him think I can't keep our secret. At the same time, I refuse to pass him by without so much as a "hello." Surely "hello" is safe. People say "hello" to their TAs and professors all the time.

I force myself to walk (and not run). I force myself to smile but not too broadly. I think I'm doing a pretty good job of looking like any other student approaching any other TA. But when I step up to Diego's side and say, "Oh, hey," he nearly jumps out of his skin.

His eyes go huge behind his glasses. He actually physically flinches away.

"Avery, what are you doing here?"

"I'm … on campus? I have a study group later and figured I'd show up early to get some work done. I do that sometimes, you know." Part of me can't help being disappointed that he reacted so dramatically to a simple greeting.

And then I see why I freaked him out.

A couple approaches us. They're older than most of the students here and even without a word of explanation, I know they're Diego's parents. His father has the same shifting amber-honey-chocolate brown eyes behind glasses. His mother has the same smile and pitch-black hair. They even walk like him. And when they speak, they have the barest hint of the Midwest drawl that pops up only in very specific words that Diego says like "know" and "go" and "Wisconsin."

"Oh, hello," his mother says. "I'm Diego's mother. Are you his friend?"

I blink. Even though I knew that was what she'd say, I definitely did not plan on meeting my secret TA hookup's parents today. Or maybe ever.

"I, um, I…" What the hell do I say? Is the right answer "friend" or "student" or "mentee" or something else entirely? What answer will make Diego feel safe?

"They're my student," Diego says.

His parents' eyes go wide, like Diego just introduced a rock star or something.

"A student," his mother says. "You take Diego's class."

That places me on steadier ground. This, I know how to talk about.

"I do," I say. "It's fantastic. Has he told you anything about it?"

And that's how I find myself talking to my crush's parents about the history of drag shows. I guess I should have some reservations about it, but it turns out that Diego's parents are really easy folks to talk to. They're curious and interested, asking genuine questions as I gush about a topic I care way too much about.

"We should go to a show while we're here," Diego's mom says .

I blink, shooting a glance at Diego. What happened the last time we went to a show passes between us in one terrified look.

"We can … look into it," Diego says.

"You aren't going to shock us with this stuff," his dad throws in. "We might be from a small town, but we've seen a bit of the world. It's just a show."

"I didn't bring anything nice to wear," his mother says.

I chuckle. "You don't have to dress nice. Leave that to the performers."

His mother seems pleased by that prospect, though Diego squirms with discomfort. I don't want to push my luck. Successful introduction to parents achieved. I should take the win and get out of here. Except the moment I propose doing so, his mother's face falls.

"You aren't going to show us around?" she says.

"Me?" I all but squeak.

"Well, you've been a student here longer than Diego, right? You probably know this place even better than he does."

"Honey, they probably have classes and stuff," Diego's father says. "We shouldn't bother them."

I should take the easy out. I'm sure it would make Diego feel a lot better if I left now. But his parents are so sweet, and when am I going to get another chance to learn about Diego right from the source? Plus, they picked up on Diego's use of my pronouns instantly and without a single complaint or question, and that gives them, like, a million points in my book.

"I have time," I say. "My study group isn't meeting until after lunch. I was just going to hang around on campus. I could give you a tour, get lunch, then meet up with my group." I shoot a nervous look at Diego. "I mean, if Diego's okay with that."

Diego is very, very still. Dangerously still. I don't know if he's terrified or angry or what, but his parents answer before he can.

"Don't be ridiculous," his mother says. "Of course he's okays with it."

She loops her arm through mine without a beat of hesitation, and we're off. I'm walking arm-in-arm with Diego's mom, pointing out the student center and administrative buildings. I even take her inside the admin building to show her the historical photos of what the campus looked like before it was this huge, sprawling behemoth of a university. She seems fascinated by all of it, engrossed in every word, and I suddenly understand where Diego gets his insatiable curiosity. She's a lot less timid about it than Diego is, however, diving in fearlessly where he might tiptoe delicately.

I lead Diego's parents to the liberal arts buildings next. It's where Diego does all his teaching, after all, and where his office is. We have to be a bit quiet. Even on a Saturday, there are a few people hanging around working, but once we reach Diego's office, we're free to talk how we please.

His mother sets her hands on her hips as she looks around the sparse office. "You haven't even decorated," she says.

"I've been busy working and studying, Mama," Diego says. "I'm a student, too, you know."

She waves her hand. "How are you supposed to work and study in such a drab place? It's depressing."

"It's not like I have anything to decorate with," Diego says.

"Then I'll send some things. Your old room at home has plenty of junk in it."

"Mama, please."

I hide a laugh behind my hand. For all that Diego stresses that six-year gap between us, he sounds very much like a kid right now, a kid being scolded by his over-concerned mother.

"Avery, back me up," his mother says, suddenly swinging on me. "This office is depressing, isn't it? Do any of you students actually visit him here?"

I swallow hard to keep heat from flashing through my face. I only visited Diego here once, and while nothing technically happened, I definitely pushed that line as far back as I could.

"It… It could use a little love," I say.

"Ha, there, you see? Avery agrees with me. I knew I liked them. "

Diego's mom slings her arm around my shoulder and hugs me against her, and her warmth soaks through me. This much, Diego did not inherit from her. He seems more like his father in this regard, a bit more withdrawn and withholding when it comes to such an overt show of affection. But screw it, I like it. I like being forward and blunt with my feelings, and I hug her right back.

"If I send him things, will you please make sure he decorates?" she says. "I don't know who else I can ask."

"I'm on it," I say. "This office will be like an interior decoration magazine shot the next time you see it."

A commotion sounds out in the hall, doors opening, voices bouncing against the walls and ceiling, footsteps creating a low rumble of thunder. It must be a group leaving, someone who booked a room for a project or something. Either way, it reminds me that this has eaten up the afternoon and I'm in jeopardy of blowing off my study group for the second time.

"Oh shit," I say. "I mean, oh shoot?"

Diego's parents laugh, so I assume their ears are not too virginal.

"Sorry, people must be leaving. It reminded me of the time," I explain. I check my phone. "I have to get going or I won't have time to eat before my group meets. I wish I could continue the tour for you."

Diego's mother gasps. "We've taken up your whole Saturday. I'm so sorry. "

"I told you we shouldn't have pestered them," Diego's father throws in.

"You didn't," I assure them. "Really. This was amazing. Way more fun than sitting around alone. Thank you for letting me show you around."

His parents smile warmly. I look cautiously to Diego, wondering if I'll find anger there. Fear, perhaps. But he's watching me with something else entirely, a warmth that sinks through me like hot cocoa on a snowy day.

"I'll … see you in class, Diego," I say.

He very nearly smiles, and that hot cocoa feeling seeps all the way down to my toes.

"Yeah," he says. "I'll see you then."

I make my escape, heart skipping as I slip into the traffic cluttering the halls.