Don't Tell (Don't 1)

There was a small campus store a few minutes from our building. I headed that direction. At least if I returned with a fresh cup it will have looked like I accomplished something.

I stood in line to fill a cardboard cup, reading the headlines of the newspapers and magazines while I waited. Students talked about classes. I overheard someone mention plans for fall break. That was next month.

I paid for my coffee and stepped into the sunlight. D.C. had already said goodbye to the sweltering summer. There was a new coolness in the air.

My phone vibrated and I awkwardly reached in my bag to grab it without spilling my coffee.

“Good morning,” Vaughn spoke before I could say hi.

“Good morning.” I stopped by a tree, holding the cup close to my chest.

“Get my notes?”

“I did. I liked the second one.”

“Both of them are true. I just got out of my first meeting.”

Students walked past me. “I’m headed into one now. I stopped to get more coffee.”

“Tired?”

I pinched my lips together. “Maybe. You’re not?”

“Exhausted.” His voice almost made me tremble.

I smiled. I liked knowing I was the reason he was tired. That every time he yawned or his eyes burned today it would be because we had spent the night together. He felt everything I felt.

I leaned against the bark. “Thanks for coming over last night.”

“Sounded like you needed a friend.”

“I did.” I hadn’t told Vaughn anything about Garrett. In fact, we never talked about why he showed up. I had greedily soaked up an excuse to focus on something else.

“And tonight? Does dinner work for you?”

This was the part where I could have played hard-to-get. I could have told him I needed a few nights before I was free.

“Yes.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“There’s this Italian place in Georgetown where the women roll the pasta by hand. You’ll like it.”

“How do you know I like Italian?” I teased, stalling to keep him on the phone. I liked the sound of his voice too much.

“See you then.”

“Bye.”

I let my eyes close for only a second. But it was a beautiful second.

I straightened my back and walked toward the building.

Max Harrison’s office smelled like the back of the collections section of the library. Books were piled on every surface. There were leather-bound law volumes from every state. Some appeared to never have been opened.

I sat in a chair facing Max’s desk, while he searched for his evaluation form with my name on it.