Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Avery

THE WEEKEND IS a welcome reprieve from the tumult of this past week. I don't have plans, which Mia has already expressed her intense displeasure with. She doesn't know what's been going on between Diego and I, however. I've kept Diego's secret and honored his privacy by not telling anyone, even her.

She has, however, insisted on hanging out with me. "If you're going to be a shut-in, at least don't do it alone," she said before inviting herself over.

In truth, I don't mind. Watching movies and eating ice cream with her has kept me from falling into the temptation of wallowing, which I'd definitely be doing if I was alone.

"This is breakup behavior," she remarks as we start another ‘90s comedy on a streaming service.

"I didn't break up with anyone. I'd have to be dating them first." And I would not call what Diego and I were doing "dating."

"You say that, but this is major breakup behavior," Mia says around a mouthful of rocky road.

"So now I'm a shut-in and broken up with? Your opinion of me continues to plummet."

Mia shrugs. "I'm just calling it how I see it." The movie plays on, with some hapless golfer attacking an alligator. "You can talk about it if you want."

"Nothing to talk about."

"It's what friends do for each other," she continues, undeterred. "We listen to each other's boy troubles while eating ice cream. Comes with the whole ‘friend' thing."

I sigh and set my spoon in the open carton of ice cream on the coffee table. Mia and I are cuddled under a blanket, not completely unlike the way Diego and I cuddled under a blanket and watched a movie on this couch before I disastrously confessed my feelings to him.

"What?" Mia says. "You just looked at me and winced. Do I have chocolate on my face?"

I chuckle despite myself. "No, you're fine. It's…" I heave a sigh. Fuck it. Why am I keeping secrets for a man who sort of, kind of, very academically told me we have no future? "There was a guy, but it was supposed to be a secret. "

Mia's eyes widen with interest.

"You remember when we went to that club once?"

Her eyes widen further as I fill in the missing details in that night for her. Then comes the big confession. "And he's … he's my TA."

Mia's eyes are going to pop out of her head if they go any wider. She grins wickedly, tossing aside her spoon and twisting to face me on the couch.

"Oh my God, Avery. Good work!"

"Not good work," I say. "He told me it can't work."

"I knew this was breakup behavior! Ha!" Mia cries triumphantly.

"It's not breakup behavior. We were never dating."

"If he has to tell you there's no future, you were basically dating."

I surrender to her logic, groaning and wilting forward until my head is in her lap. She pets her fingers through my hair.

"Oh, baby, you really liked him a lot, huh?" she says.

"I told him I love him."

"Oh, Avery."

The amount of sympathy in her voice compels me to turn my head against the blanket over her lap and hide my face completely. She doesn't prod. Nothing but the wacky antics happening on screen disturbs my self-pity session. Mia already knows me well enough to let the silence stretch and simply go on stroking her fingers through my hair to let me know she's here. I truly don't deserve her.

I lay that way for a while, hiding from my problems, when suddenly a knock sounds on my door.

I pop my head up and share a startled look with Mia.

"Did you order takeout?" she says.

"No, did you?"

"Definitely not."

Our mutual confusion deepens. It's too late for it to be someone with a pamphlet about their church or a door-to-door salesman, but who else would be knocking on my door at all, let alone at this time of night?

A second knock comes, this one louder and more urgent. Then a voice calls through the door.

"Avery, are you home? It's me."

The surge of emotion that explodes in my chest must overflow onto my face, because Mia's eyebrows shoot up.

"Is that him?" she mouths, barely pronouncing each word.

I nod mutely.

"Holy shit," she mouths.

Then she flies into action, smoothing down my mussed hair. I left it loose, too lazy to do anything with it, and she quickly arranges it around my shoulders so it falls neatly onto my chest.

"I'm wearing sweatpants and an old T-shirt," I say. "What do I do?"

"Answer it, bitch. Stop pretending you're not gorgeous just because you're in sweats."

Mia all but pushes me off the couch, and I force myself onto shaky legs. I can't bring myself to approach the door, however. What possible reason would Diego have for coming here after that conversation we had in his office a few days ago? What is suddenly so urgent that he needs to march out here at this time of night? Is this him putting the final nail in the coffin, pushing me away for good, tying up loose ends so I know there's not even a glimmer of hope left? No, that doesn't make sense. He could do that over text. He's here in person for a reason.

"Avery," he calls. "Please answer. Please."

His pleading finally motivates my body to move, but it's like I'm floating toward the door instead of walking. I can barely feel my legs. My chest is fluttering and thrumming like my heart is a bee hopping anxiously from flower to flower. I'm hardly breathing when I reach the door.

The thud of the deadbolt unlocking beats like a hammer against an anvil. I crack the door open and there he is, standing on my doorstep looking absolutely frantic. The fear in his face has me throwing the door open wider. Diego sweeps inside, but his gaze darts immediately to Mia on the couch.

"Hey," Mia says, waving awkwardly. "I'll just … um…"

"I'm sorry," Diego says. "I didn't realize… I didn't mean to interrupt. "

"We were watching movies," I say, numb, hollow, my brain locking up like an old engine as I try to process all of this.

Mia is already getting herself up off the couch. "I'll head out."

It takes until she's throwing her coat and shoes on at the door for me to catch up.

"Wait, Mia. I'm sorry. I'm not kicking you out," I say.

She pauses, smiling at me. Mia pats my shoulder and leans in close to kiss my cheek. As she does, she speaks low and quiet in my ear.

"Go get him, Avery. You've got this."

My heart swells with gratitude. I hug Mia before she can slip away, and she squeezes me tight. She gives me one final smile before she sneaks out the door.

Then it's just me and Diego. Me and Diego standing in the foyer in awkward silence, staring at each other, waiting for the other person to start speaking.

"Her name's Mia," I say. "She knows. She was at the club."

I expect Diego to reel back from that news, but he nods and gathers himself. "My roommate Leo was there too. He knows. I told him about … all of it."

My eyebrows flicker up with surprise. "You told someone?"

"I had to," Diego says. "I … wasn't doing well after the last time we ta lked."

He wasn't doing well? He's the one who psuedo-broke up with me ! What right does he have to be the one "not doing well?"

"Listen, Avery, I messed up," Diego says. "Last time we talked, it all came out wrong. You'd just said … you'd just said that to me, and I tried to talk to you about schools that are across the country, across the world. I was an idiot, a complete idiot. I didn't realize how it was going to sound because … because I haven't really done this before. Nothing in my life has prepared me for … for you."

"Me?"

"I come from nowhere, Avery. I come from a place you wouldn't even call a town. I used to drive for hours to get a drink with a guy. I've never really done this. But I want to do it with you."

All I can do is blink. My breath is caught in my chest, frozen between my lungs and my mouth. It takes a beat before I remember to breathe.

"I don't understand," I say, voice thin. Where is all this coming from all of a sudden? What is he saying?

Diego digs into the pockets of his coat. His hand emerges clutching several printed out sheets of paper. He holds them up like those crumpled pages explain everything.

"Can I show you something?" he says.

I don't know how to answer that, so I wave at my coffee table, where me and Mia's ice cream sits melting into soup. Diego kicks off his shoes and heads there. I follow more slowly. By the time I reach him, he's pushed the ice cream aside and is smoothing those papers down on the table. As I settle beside him on the couch, I realize they're brochures and information pages from various websites. When they sit side-by-side, I spot the words "graduate program" in repeating in bolded fonts.

My first instinct is to be pissed as hell.

"I did some research," Diego says. "Before you get mad, hear me out. These are all programs I think you could apply to someday. If you want to. But this one—" He pulls out one paper in particular and sets it atop the rest. "This is Montridge's. The one I'm in. The one I'll be in for the next couple years." He glances aside at me, but I sit very still, trying not to betray my thudding heart. "You can see that it compares well to these other programs, some of which are the top places to study gender and sexuality in the world ."

"What are you saying?" I manage.

Diego leaves the papers on the table and turns as much as he can to face me. His knees bump into mine. He scoops my hands into his, holding them and meeting my eyes.

"I think you could do this," he says. "I think you're brilliant and amazing and could change this field if you stayed in academia. I think you could change the world, Avery. You're that incredible. And … and I want to be th ere when you do it. I want you to choose Montridge because … because that's where I'll be. That's where I'll stay. If you want me to."

My lips fall open. I breathe in short sips. Diego's eyes never leave mine, but they waver behind his glasses, that soft brown filled with anxiety over my response to this audacious proposal.

"Stay and study with you?" I say.

"Yes," he says. "Yes, if you want to. If you're willing. But if you want me to leave, I'll do it. I'll get out of your life and out of your way. You deserve this more than I ever did."

"That isn't true." I find my voice at last, and squeeze his hands hard. "That isn't true at all. I never even considered doing this until I met you."

Diego opens his mouth to argue, but I press a finger over his lips. Now that I've started speaking, I know exactly what I need to say, what my heart needs to say.

"And I can't imagine continuing to do it without you," I say. "I can't imagine doing what I love without the man I love."

I've said it again, but I don't care. Diego came here for a big revelation, for a last chance. Well, there's mine. I love you, idiot. Take it or leave it.

"I won't do this halfway," I say. "I'm either all in — or nothing at all. "

I've put myself out there, played all my cards. I'm touched by Diego's consideration, by the effort he went to to show me the future we might have. It shows that he does care, but caring isn't enough. I'm going to do this for real, or I'm going to walk away.

It's up to Diego.