Had to be at least twenty times that week that Damian started an email or text to Alex, asking, “Did you mean that, about wanting to do more? Because I’d like that.” But every time, he deleted it.
Part of his hesitation came from being so busy. He’d bought Maria a bus ticket back to San Francisco and seen her off on Sunday, then stayed up way too late to finish his paper, which he knew didn’t turn out very coherent. Attending classes, catching up on other homework and art projects, and working various shifts at his part-time job at the campus bookstore took up his remaining time. Still, he watched Alex’s online behavior until he felt like a stalker, and felt both disappointed and relieved at Alex’s discretion in not posting anything like I had a really hot weekend with an old friend.
Nea
