Apolonia

When we arrived at the steps of the Fitz, he let go of my arm. “May I say something?” he asked.

“Depends.”

“I can’t stop thinking about last night. I swear, I won’t sweat the fact that you’re going to be cooped up in a tiny lab with Cyrus for the rest of the day, if we could do that again.”

I looked up at him, dubious.

“The laughing, stupid, fun part…mostly.”

“It was fun. I had a great time.”

“Okay, I lied. I’ll still wonder what’s going on between you and Cyrus.”

“You don’t have to wonder,” I said. “It’s not like that. I wish I could explain to you what it’s like, but it’s not like that.”

“No?”

I shook my head. “It’s not like us.”

He beamed. “Still mess-free, you know. This is on your terms. On your time.”

I touched his cheek. “See you later.”

Benji smiled and then slowly wrapped his arms around me, tightening them gradually until I was against him, snug and warm. My arms were around him, too, under his coat. He didn’t have an ounce of body fat on him. He was solid, all lean muscle. My head fit perfectly under his chin, and he leaned his head down, resting his cheek on my hair.

He made this wonderful involuntary humming breath noise, as if he were the happiest he’d ever been. It made me want to sink into him even further, so I did, and he held me tighter. I didn’t want to move, but I had to. I had federal laws to break, and Benji had a family to go home to for Thanksgiving.

Benji’s head tilted back, and I looked up at him. We stared at each other for a long time, and then his eyes drifted to my lips. As good as the hug felt, I wasn’t completely sure about making a habit of kissing good-bye.

“Don’t worry. I’ll ask first,” he said. “But I would like to kiss your cheek.”

All I could do was nod. Every part of me wanted to remember what Benji’s mouth felt like on my skin.

Benji looked at my lips once more, and then he leaned down slowly, touching his lips to my cheek just an inch or so away from the corner of my mouth.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” he said, walking away.

I smiled, waiting for the warmth in my cheeks to go away before I walked up the stairs and found my way back to the lab—and to Cy.

As I walked into the building and descended the stairs, the warmth turned into tingling. When I walked into the lab, Cy looked up, and I felt as if he knew what had happened between Benji and me.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah! Why?”

Cy frowned at my overly excited answer. “Your cheeks are red.”

I already knew that. My entire face was burning. I couldn’t answer. I just walked over to Dr. Z’s desk, pulled out another stack of pages, and brought them to my desk.

“How was the party?”

“It was a party.”

“Benji saw you home?”

“Yep.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

I looked at Cy for a moment. He was still beautiful, still everything I couldn’t stop thinking about since the beginning of the semester, and I still felt drawn to him, but for the first time, I wondered why.

Cy and I worked all day and halfway through the night.

When I returned to my dorm, a clean, folded maroon T-shirt with yellow writing had been slipped under my door, the one Benji had given me to wear the night before, and it also happened to be my favorite that he wore. It came with a note.

My eyes had just barely peeled open when someone knocked on the door. I had worn Benji’s shirt to bed. I loved the way it swallowed me, but I wasn’t wearing anything underneath. I slipped on some boxer shorts before trudging across the cold floor. The door whined as it opened.

Cy was standing in the hallway, wearing a black fleece pullover and his token khaki cargo pants. He seemed distracted by my lack of attire. “Happy Thanksgiving. I’m afraid we’ll have to start early today. Dr. Zorba wants to move the specimen tomorrow.”

I walked away from the open door and crashed back onto my bed. “I don’t really do early after pulling an all-nighter,” I said, lifting the covers over my head.

“I’d like to take you to breakfast first, if that’s acceptable to you.”

I turned over, letting every muscle in my face capable of frowning compress and tighten. “Why?”

“I…just allow me this. Please.” Cy’s expression was desperate.

It made me curious and worried and a little sick to my stomach. Is it about the rock? The CIA? Dr. Z? Does he somehow know about Benji and me? There was only one way to find out.

“Uh…okay.” I stood up and peeled off my clothes as I walked toward the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” Cy said, turning around and shielding his eyes. His voice was raised an octave, sounding similar to what we non-Egyptians call panic.

“Taking a shower,” I said, slipping my heather gray cotton panties down over my h*ps and letting them fall to the floor. I twisted the shower knob with one hand and grabbed a towel with the other, and the water sprayed against the tile floor.

The door closed behind me quickly, but not before Cy uttered the words, “You’ll not be long?”

“Five minutes,” I said. I smiled as the hot water poured over my face. It was about time Cy was the one who felt unsettled.

We sat inside Gigi’s Café, watching large flakes fall from the silver sky. It felt weird being there with Cy instead of Benji, but Gigi’s was the only restaurant open on Thanksgiving.

Cy was drinking a small black coffee, and I was sipping my hot water as quickly as I could without burning my tongue. I was wearing three layers, including a tank top, my favorite silver sweater, and an orange fleece vest. My clothes were certainly more colorful than my usual attire, but I felt less like only wearing black these days.

Cy insisted that I dress warmly when I came out of the shower. With his back still turned, he’d said, “It’s going to be very cold today and even more so tonight. Please, please take better care of yourself, Rory.”

Being watched over wasn’t something that had appealed to me for the last two and a half years. But lately, it didn’t seem all that bad.

The waitress set a plate in front of me with a steaming breakfast burrito, a small plastic cup of pico de gallo, and the stupid garnish that no one cared about and everyone threw away.

“Your breakfrito,” she said with a voice that had been poisoned by twenty years or more of cigarette smoke. She put a bowl of raw spinach leaves and a small plastic cup of vinegar in front of Cy. “Your—”