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Before I leave, I dig around in our pantry to find a protein bar. It’ll be a joke. I dodge a snowball fight as I skid and slide toward the bus stop, and the bus coughs its way slowly, slowly to Arjun’s. Absently, I wonder how many more winters I’ll have, how many more unexpected snowstorms. I’ve always liked winter more than summer, although now it is technically spring. I am a cold-weather, cold-blooded person, from my ice hands to my heart.
Tree limbs are dusted with snow, Arjun’s apartment walkway fossilized with human and canine footprints. When he opens the door, I press myself against him, letting his hot mouth warm me to my core.
“Happy snowpocalypse,” I say breathlessly. He releases me, and I wave the protein bar at him. “I brought sustenance.”
He gives a small smile. “I told you it would happen.”
“Yeah. In April.” God, his apartment is freezing. Is the heat not working?
He rubs his elbow the way he does when he’s nervous. After a few moments of silence, I lead us into the living room and onto the couch, unwinding my scarf.
“I made my decision,” I tell Arjun, deciding to start with something easier.
“Hm? Oh, yes.” He sounds distracted. “What did you decide on?”
“Peabody.”
“Excellent,” he says, his voice flat. “You’ll be fantastic there.”
I touch his wrist. He doesn’t pull away exactly, but his body tenses, and it sets me on edge.
“Arjun. I have to tell you something.”
He lets out a long breath, his face softening. “I have to tell you something too, but you can go first.”
“I . . .” I swallow. I take both his hands in mine. There was a speech I rehearsed in my mind a good hundred times last night before I went to sleep, but now all I can get out is: “I’m in love with you.”
I must whisper it because he stares blankly, blinking a few times.
“Did you hear me? I said, I love you.” I laugh a little, like, of course you heard me. This is the part where he tells me that he loves me too, and then we’ll kiss deeply. A black-and-white-movie kind of kiss, the kind where the woman’s back arches so deeply you think she’d fall if it weren’t for the way the man is holding her.
He withdraws his hands from mine. “I heard you.” Rest, rest, rest. “Adina. You know I like you. A lot, actually. Probably more than I should.”
All the adrenaline I had in me when I made my confession turns to dread. If adrenaline made me feel lighter than feathers, dread makes me feel like I’m balancing a piano on my shoulders again. Like it is crushing me. I want to snatch those words back, stow them away for longer this time.
“What do you mean?”
He makes that sigh-groan sound of frustration. “I keep thinking about what happened last week.”
I shouldn’t have to defend myself, but I do anyway. “I told you, I had to see you. And it worked out okay, didn’t it? We talked about everything and you helped me calm down, and then we were fine.”
“Adina.” He makes a strange sound, kind of like a laugh, but an I-can’t-believe-this laugh, a this-isn’t-actually-funny laugh. “You stalked me.”
“I didn’t—,” I start, but he cuts me off again.
“I like being with you, but I can’t do this anymore. It’s making it difficult for me to focus on my own work and music. You’re . . . you’re not well. I don’t want to put my job in jeopardy by being with you, and I can’t spend this much time with someone who’s not . . . stable.”
Stable. If he means it in both the physical and mental sense, I don’t find it funny at all.
“I’ll change. I swear,” I insist. “I won’t do that anymore. I won’t even text you or call you. I just need to be with you.”
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about! This ‘need’ you have. It scares the shit out of me, okay? It makes me feel like if you’re not with me, something’s going to happen, and I don’t want to be responsible for anything.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “What do you mean? Responsible for what, exactly?”
“Your plan. When you said it, I was half-asleep, and it didn’t sink in until you’d already left. At first I was certain you were overreacting. That you’d change your mind someday. But the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that you need to talk to someone. Have you talked to anyone else about this? About any of it?”
“Just you.”
