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There’s no protocol for this situation. No one knows who to defer to. Ryan glances between me and Derek. Derek studies the building across the street. I keep my focus pinned to the ground.
“Well…” Ryan says, finally. “Looks like you guys need to talk. I’ll call you later, Whit, yeah?” He turns and kisses my cheek, catching the edge of my mouth.
I watch Derek, trying to decipher if I’ve wounded him. The idea is ludicrous. I’m projecting what I want to see, not what’s actually there, visible in his dark brown eyes. Those eyes might compel me to spill the truth, but they do the exact opposite for Derek. A well of dark brown so deep I get lost searching for answers. I don’t even think to acknowledge Ryan until he’s wheeling the bikes away, yards down the sidewalk from where I stand.
I throw a half-hearted goodbye in his direction, disappointed in myself. I had fun with him tonight. He deserves better.
“I thought you said you and Ryan were just friends?” Derek asks once I turn back around to face him.
I shrug. “We are.”
“So that wasn’t a date?”
“It was mini golf. Call it what you want.”
Suddenly, I’m mad at Derek for being here, for ruining a perfectly good evening. I’ve suffered through his sour moods all week at work and now he’s here, after hours, reminding me of what will inevitably await me come Monday.
“What are you doing here anyway?” I ask, sounding accusatory.
My arms are crossed over my chest. I try to stand an inch taller.
“I want to talk.”
“Then talk,” I shoot back.
In an instant, I become aware of where we are. Out here, voices carry. I’m sure students inside the dorms can hear us. I would tell him we should save this for another time, but I want to hear what he has to say. It’s clearly important or he wouldn’t have been out on the curb, waiting for me.
I sigh and nod my head toward the back door of the dorm. It’s co-ed, and there aren’t real parameters around who is allowed in as long as they sign in at the front desk. Still, I bypass that step and sneak him up the back stairwell, toward my room at the end of the hall. It feels better once we’re inside, safer now that we’re away from curious eyes.
I wish we were somewhere else, though. I never intended on ever bringing Derek into my dorm. It’s my personal space and he’s invading it. After setting his book down on my small dresser, he takes in my makeshift kitchen and desk. My twin bed has a simple white duvet and two pillows. Nothing else will fit. My books (some of which are his) are stacked beside my bed. I want to run over there and swipe the stack so it crumbles to the ground, preventing him from reading the spines, but it’s too late. I pray he doesn’t remember he ever lent them to me in the first place.
He’s taking it all in, looking, examining, prying. He keeps his hands to himself, but he turns a slow circle in the room, curious about every single detail. I’m a specimen and he’s a scientist and I recall the very first time we ever met, when he was sitting across the table from me in the coffee shop, examining me with amusement.
I have a feeling he’s doing the same thing now.
I explode.
“We’re here now, so talk.”
I immediately regret snapping at him and I nearly apologize, but he does first.
He turns to look at me over his shoulder, brown eyes awakening a swarm of butterflies inside me. “I’m sorry for how I handled things eight years ago,” he says, like it’s a matter of fact.
“What?”
I stand perfectly still, trying to figure out if I’ve heard him right. Maybe I got hit in the head with a golf ball too.
He turns fully toward me and continues, “You’re upset with me because of how I left things back then, so here I am, apologizing.”
It doesn’t feel right. He doesn’t seem all that sorry. In fact, his tone is borderline angry. His posture is too proud for someone offering amends.
I tilt my head as I think it over.
“So if you could go back, you’d handle things differently?” I test, wanting clarification for my eighteen-year-old-self.
His expression stays neutral. Nearly bored. “I didn’t say that.”
I prop my hands on my hips. “So then you’re not apologizing at all.”
He almost smiles. “I guess not.”
Geez! The arrogance!
He shrugs. “I can’t apologize for not pursuing you back then. In my eyes, you were still a kid.”
“Kid or not, I still had feelings. In fact, I can still feel the sting of rejection when I got that generic form email informing me you would no longer be my mentor.”
His eyes narrow. “You seem to think I wronged you back then, but let me be clear. Your email was charming and sweet. However, you sent it on the company email server.” It takes every ounce of strength I have not to cringe. I hadn’t even considered that fact. “Besides that glaring misstep, there was the obvious age gap between us. What did you want from me? A relationship? You were barely out of high school. I’d already finished my graduate degree and had one focus: work. For the last eight years, I’ve barely taken the time to glance up, but now, I’m looking, Whitney. I see you. You want me to grovel and beg for forgiveness over what I did back then?” He takes a step toward me. “I’d rather talk about the way I feel for you right now.”
