But as usual, my familiarity with the immigration system rears its head, and my lofty speculation dissipates.
I groan, not knowing what to say.
“Hey, I’ve got you,” Nick says. “What do you need from me?”
“Rub my shoulders while I sulk in bed?”
“Fuck, man, that’s so sad. I was thinking I’d blow you and cook dinner.”
“Nick, oh my god.” I swat his shoulder, grateful for the levity. “I don’t think I’m in the mood for sex tonight.”
“Shit, you’re turning me down? This is worse than I thought.” He dodges my second smack and yanks me closer by my belt loops. “Why don’t I take you out? You think that’d cheer you up?”
“Why can’t you let me be sad?” I mutter into his shoulder. “Fuck you for being so nice.”
He chuckles along with me, bumping his shoulder blade into my cheekbone, and I pull back to take in his smiling face.
“Because I don’t like it when you’re sad.” After planting another kiss on my cheek, he steps back, hands on my waist. “Give me a minute to rinse off, and then we can head out. Get ready if you need to, but you look amazingalready.”
He turns around, and my eyes predictably drift downward to his muscular ass, which stretches the fabric of those devious pants to their limit. The bathroom door closes before I can melt entirely, and I shake my head to clear it.
Ididleave for class today, so I’m not a total slob; all I have to do is spritz on some cologne and grab a jacket.
When I’ve finished, Nick’s already standing in the hallway, looking annoyingly hot as usual. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jeans, and he’s chosen not to put his hat back on, revealing the soft hair he’s been growing out for the past few weeks.
He should wear his hat. It’s aneed.
“No,” I say to him, even if it’s harsh. “Put it back on.”
“Put what?—”
“Your hat.” I hand it to him, and spin it around after he slips it over his hair.
“Jeez, you’re such a needy asshole,” he quips, grinning at me. “You could just tell me you have a thing for the baseball aesthetic.”
“Who says I do?” A semi-serious joke surges to the tip of my tongue, and I let it loose. “Maybe I’m warming myself up to being a baseball spouse. It might be the most realistic plan for my future.”
He freezes halfway through opening the door for me. “You’d better not be joking. You know I’d bust my ass to make it happen.”
I know it’s too soon,waytoo soon, but Nick offering to make things work is almost enough to make me pop the question.
We end up at the ramen place down the street. Nick asked me to choose, I said I didn’t care, and then he threatened to throw me into the lake if I wasn’t more decisive.
He’d never, but this place was visible from where we were, and I’m craving something savory, anyway.
I got him to tell me about his closely scrutinized practice as adistraction, and I was more than happy to listen to him go on about how he took a rookie under his wing and almost broke the auto-pitcher with a randomly precise swing of his bat.
All in all, I’m getting the idea he’s a hot commodity in the baseball world, and my god, I hope things work out for him. Nick deserves it.
And right when I was beginning to think I’d be able to forget about my imploding life, I had to sabotage myself and bring my future up.
“So,” Nick says, after I moan about losing my job security again, “what are your options?”
“I don’t even know,” I say. “I could work for that company for free for six months and maybe stay on afterward, or I can turn it down and mope around my parents’ house while applying for grad school again.” I make a frustrated jab of my chopsticks into my bowl, uselessly mixing around what’s left of the noodles, and the fact Nick doesn’t care about it being rude is more relieving than it needs to be. “But none of that changes anything. My visa is gonna run out two weeks after I graduate.”
“So you’ve still got…”
“Two months left.”
