This one, specifically.
I bought it at the campus bookstore my freshman year with three others because this is the kind of notebookIlike.
Alex Wesleyis written on the first page in black Sharpie, the way Nate taught me to label all of my stuff when I was a kid.
I sit back on my heels.
It’s been missing since the start of the year. I thought my old roommate took this. I look at the notebook, and then I look at the drawer, and I start going through it differently, the charger long forgotten.
The pencil case I didn’t pay any attention to, I unzip it now, and there they are, my pencils inside. The ones I thought were taken. The calculator, that’s the one I thought I left in last semester’s stats class.
And then, in the back corner of the drawer, shoved into a ball, I find the missing underwear.
I look down at it, the red and black fabric balled up in my hand, and I try to find a reasonable explanation first.
Our laundry got mixed up.
He thought they were cool, so he borrowed them.
There’s some reason, if I dig deep enough, that makes sense and doesn’t mean what it looks like it means.
“Hey, did you find it?” Ryan asks, coming through the door. He sees me on the floor and opens his mouth to say something else, but he stops when he sees what I have.
“What is this?” I say, keeping my voice calm.
He steps into the room and closes the door behind him, turning the lock.
I stand up, never turning my back to him as I watch him cross the room. I don’t let myself think about the locked door or the fact that he’s bigger than me or any of the other things my body is threatening to freak out about.
This isn’t Jason.
Never again.
I stand up to my full height, and I keep my eyes on him, holding my stolen underwear, and I wait for whatever the explanation could possibly be.
“You weren’t supposed to find those,” he says, when he gets close enough that I can smell him. He reaches past me, and my body tenses, but he doesn’t touch me. He opens the door to his bedside table and presents his laptop charger.
Oh.
“Okay.” I nod. “But I did.”
He drops the charger onto his bed and runs his hand through his short brown hair. “It’s not what you think.”
“What is it then?”
Exhaling, he looks down at the floor and then back up at me, and there’s something on his face that I’ve never seen before. “I love you,” he says. “I know how that sounds, but it’s true.”
What?I stare at him in confusion, not even shock.
“Since freshman year, Alex. I saw you for the first time, and I knew you were the one. I just knew it. I saw you, you know? We had that teacher. The handsome one, remember? And I saw you looking at him, because I was looking at you, and I knew right then. You were like me—”
“Ryan.” I shake my head. I do remember that teacher. He was handsome. But—
“Just let me finish.” His voice has an edge of desperation that doesn’t feel right. “I know it looks bad, taking your stuff. But I needed to feel close to yousomehow.”
I look down at the underwear, and I remember his words from the gym that day.I can think of a few things.
“I wanted to tell you,” he continues, taking a step toward me,and I don’t move back even though everything in me wants to. “I would treat you so well, baby. You have no idea.”
