"Let's go," he commanded, and I complied. Gathering my belongings, I stowed my laptop in my backpack, and we left the library. Only a few students remained; the doors were on the brink of closing. The breeze outside was chilly, a harbinger of the approaching winter. I suppose you could call it my season of the year. We strolled side by side through the campus park, the moon in its full phase illuminating our path, its yellow craters stark against the dark, star-speckled sky. I pondered his plans and destination.
"Where are we going?", "What have you got in mind?" I pressed, feeling puzzled as we weren't headed towards Melian's Avenue, home to most of the local restaurants.
"To my car. Please don't press for more details; I'm not ready to share tonight's events, yet. You'll find out when the time is right," he responded, looking ahead and leading the way. We were actually directed, I realized, towards the university's parking lot. We walked the remainder of the journey in silence. His desire for quiet seemed palpable, he seemed eager in wanting to show me where he was taking me and wanted me to ponder while we were walking. I respected his wishes and kept my questions to myself. His brisk pace was challenging to match, but I managed.
When we reached the parking lot, it was nearly empty. Among the few cars left was an old-fashioned Ford Mustang.
"Is that your car?" I asked, expecting a positive response.
"Ha, no," he chuckled, but it seemed a bit of a shy laugh to me. "Come. My car is not in this parking lot," he added, beckoning me to follow him. Was there another parking lot? I knew that professors and deans had another, more secure, parking spot, but I didn't think they'd let a student park in there. We moved past the lot towards a building with several garage doors. He pressed a button on a remote, and the gates ascended.
"Is this where the professors park?" Questions danced like fireflies in the gardens of my mind.
"No, this is a reserved parking space for students who rent one," he explained. I felt my eyes widening and my eyebrow starting to raise, but I controlled the reaction right on time. I wasn't aware that the university provided indoor parking spaces for rent. Personally, I knew how to drive because my dad taught me when he had time for driving lessons, and he made me get my license. Although we only had one car at home, and it naturally stayed there since it was my parents' car. I didn't mind too much, since I could always manage to get around using private transportation or by having friends take me places.
We continued walking until we approached a stunning Mercedes Benz. I looked at him, his gaze lowered, and asked, "Is that yours?" The car was eye-catching, the kind that turned heads. I began to wonder about the financial status of the students at this university. Edmund's car made Jacob's look modest and "cheap" in comparison. I couldn't wait to tell him; he loved cars.
"It's an overkill, I know. My parents insisted. Something less ostentatious would have sufficed," he admitted, appearing unusually embarrassed. Seeing Edmund uncomfortable was odd; he didn't seem to know how to express it, so he avoided eye contact, staring at his feet instead. I found this display of vulnerability very endearing. He was still getting to know me, yet here he was, allowing himself to be vulnerable.
"It's a Mercedes AMG EQE Sedan," he said in response to my question about the car's model. Given his voice tone, I decided it was best to change the subject.
"Should we get in?" I suggested, breaking his reverie and helping him overcome his initial embarrassment. He unlocked the car, and we got in. I tried not to express my awe out loud, but I suspect he noticed my wide-eyed admiration as he started the car. The interior was even more beautiful than the exterior. The sedan's classic outside belied its modern, luxurious inside. It boasted top-of-the-line features, including massive dashboard screens and pristine white eco-leather seats.
He drove through the city, fast but smooth. His initial apprehension had faded. I found myself constantly wondering where he was taking me. My surprise was evident when we exited the city and transitioned onto the seaside highway. After nearly twenty minutes, we pulled up to an elegant-looking restaurant, its warm lights spilling into the night. I was immediately struck by its opulence, and I worried that I couldn't afford such a place. It was slightly embarrassing, but I felt compelled to suggest something more affordable to me.
"This is a beautiful place, Edmund, but I was thinking along the lines of Pizza Hut or Domino's," I ventured, hinting at my concern about the restaurant.
"Dominos?" he responded, sounding puzzled, "Remember, you are what you eat, Levi." His reaction indicated that my hint hadn't been clear enough. He worried about me having healthy food. If he just knew the sort of food I ate, sometimes.
"I can't come to places like this…" I confessed, feeling my self-consciousness grow inside me, my gaze directed out the car window. Suddenly, understanding washed over him, and he chuckled. It wasn't a mocking laugh. Rather, it suggested that he found my worry to be somewhat trivial.
"You genuinely thought I was going to let you pay?" he asked. I looked at him, my face creased into a frown. "Obviously," I retorted. I understood he was trying to be a gentleman, but it felt excessive to me. He continued to stare until I finally snapped, "Stop it! You're doing it again," I exclaimed, my voice louder than usual. I couldn't take my eyes off him. The way he moved, the way he spoke, it was like he had cast a spell on me. I was completely mesmerized by his presence, lost in a world of his own making. I found myself drawn to him, unable to resist his charm. And I was beginning to think that he enjoyed doing this on purpose.
"What am I doing, exactly?" he asked, making it clear he wasn't going to let it go. "Just park, please. I'm hungry," I conceded, deciding to let him pay this time. However, I resolved to stand my ground in any future conflicts if I believed I was right. He looked pleased, a small triumphant grin spreading across his face. "Please, wipe off that grin," I snapped, making him laugh again. I rolled my eyes at him.
After parking and closing the car doors, I breathed in the soft scent of the ocean and listened to the gentle lapping of waves on the shore. As we approached the restaurant, I realized I wasn't appropriately dressed for the occasion, but it didn't seem to matter at this point. When we entered, we were asked by the waitress if we had a reservation. "We do, look for Plaintgenet," Edmund responded. The waitress scanned the list, her eyes slightly widened, as she quickly said, "Come with me, please, sirs." We followed her to a table on the second floor, situated next to a large glass panel overlooking the beach, with waves roaring at the shore. We settled into our seats, and I took a moment to absorb the scenery. Here I was, with Edmund Plaintgenet, a scenario I wouldn't have believed possible two months ago. A wave of emotions washed over me: a blend of intense happiness, excitement, surprise, and a touch of disbelief. My heart pounded, and I felt light-headed. I struggled to understand what I was experiencing as worry crept in. The thought that maybe he only intended this to be a friendly dinner weighed heavily on my heart. Perhaps I was the one reading too much into it. Was it possible that Edmund just wanted to be friends, and this was just a casual dinner? If he knew a friend couldn't afford this place, surely, he'd extend the same courtesy.
"Why did you pick this place, Edmund?" I asked.
"We come here with my family all the time. Mostly, we appreciate the quiet and tranquility of the ocean," he explained, his gaze drawn to the view outside. I noticed his relaxed posture. He reclined comfortably in his chair, an arm laid casually over the backrest. His nose seemed chiseled by God himself, his auburn hair shimmering under the restaurant's light. His tide eyes more intense than ever, it seemed to me. His air of quiet confidence contrasted sharply with the turmoil brewing within me. We scanned the QR code for the menu, and as we looked over the options, a comfortable silence settled between us, only broken by Edmund's question.
"Are you a fan of the Italian cuisine?" He asked, his voice held a hint of wonder.
"Yeah, my family and I eat pasta and pizza all the time. We stick to the traditional Italian way. We'd never dream of cutting a good spaghetti with a knife. That amounts to culinary murder," I joked, making both of us laugh.
After we ordered, my anxiety resurfaced. What was I doing here, having dinner with Edmund, a guy who intrigued everyone, including me? Despite the numerous red flags, he had managed to captivate me in a way no one else had before in my life. I have always wondered if I ever stood a chance? If I could have decided differently? It was as though, I had been transported to a different world. Edmund's world.
"So, could you tell me about your family and your life before college? I'm really intrigued," he asked me, his eagerness to know me better was evident in his voice. Before I could respond, our food arrived. I had ordered pasta and he had chosen seafood. The smell of fish invaded my nostrils. Everything was prepared in a gourmet style. He had even approved of my request for a glass of wine. It was a Cabernet Sauvignon imported from France, raspy yet delicious. I asked for another glass filled with water to quench my thirst; after all, alcohol should always be savored, not used to douse the thirst.
"I didn't grow up in a large household. It's just my parents and my little brother, whom I love very much. I miss them a lot, as well. Unfortunately, due to their jobs as architects, they were busy most of the time, during my childhood and teenage years. We lived comfortably, but not in excess. They visited me a month ago. It was difficult to say goodbye again, but moving here allowed me to meet incredible people and become more independent and self-sufficient, you know? So, what's your family like?" I asked in return.
"In my case, it's my parents and my twin sister, but I'm the younger one of the two. I grew up in a freedom of thought environment. My parents are loving people who taught us to be independent and self-sufficient at a young age. They also inspired us to always strive to help others and leave a positive impact on the world. My sister and I are very close, but keeping in contact since I've been here has been challenging. I miss her as well, so I can relate to your feelings," he confessed, looking down at his feet. I knew what a heavy heart, filled with longing, felt like.
"I understand," I responded, "but I also have a passion for music. I play the violin, and I usually don't boast about my skills, but I think I'm decent at it," I revealed, anxious to see what his reaction would be and lighten up the mood a bit.
"No way!" He exclaimed, his formality giving way to excitement. I took that as a good sign that he was starting to feel… comfortable around me, and I couldn't help but grin widely, nearly giggling with contentment. "I play the piano. And I love music, as well. My favorite composer is Beethoven. We should find a common piece to play together!" He suggested, apparently thrilled with the idea. I thought it was a wonderful proposition, one that could potentially bring us significantly closer. After all, music has a way of uniting people.
We spent the rest of the evening at the restaurant, discussing our different hobbies and interests. We found that we had a great deal in common, and I think we were both in awe by that. It was as if our personalities were designed to complement each other. After we finished our dinner, he requested the bill, discreetly keeping the total from my view. He paid using a black American Express card, its familiar insignia etched into the metal.
Before standing up, Edmund asked me if I had a good time and if I wanted to order anything else. I thanked him but politely declined. A warm feeling crept into my chest, moved by his attention and concern for my needs. I playfully bumped him with my shoulder as we exited the restaurant and headed towards where he had parked his car, after thanking the staff and wishing them a good night. He left a very generous tip, causing me to consider again what his social status might be. In all honesty, I never pictured Edmund as a generous person, but I liked what I saw. As we returned to the car, I immediately felt the temperature was colder than when we had come in, so I hugged my arms for warmth. "Are you cold?" He asked, noticing my reaction at once. I nodded in response, while my teeth chattered, and he assured me he'd turn on the heating system as soon as we were inside the car. True to his word, the first thing he did was turn on the heater, and the warming seats certainly served their purpose. During the drive back, he played some of his piano recordings, also sharing some of his favorite pieces with me. His music taste was impeccable, mine was slightly different more violin orientated and pop, but the fact that he enjoyed classical music and Beethoven was very fitting to his personality. I asked him if he enjoyed Chopin, because I was a huge fan of him, and he told me that he was fascinated by "Fantaisie-Impromptu" and that it was one of his favorite pieces to play. A surge of joy swept through me in that moment that I could barely contain myself. The delicious meal we had shared, the charming atmosphere, and most of all, the delightful company had left me feeling pleased beyond words.
Once we arrived, he parked nearby the Housing Buildings, and led me towards the entrance. We walked at a slow pace, taking our time; I didn't want this evening to finish so soon, and I silently hoped he felt the same. However, all good things must come to an end, and as we reached the doors of the male building, unfortunately it was time to say goodbye.
"We'll see each other tomorrow, Levi," he assured me, likely sensing my apprehension.
"Sure, I hope so," I responded, unable to help the downcast tone in my voice.
"We will," he re-affirmed. We held each other's gaze for a long moment. I studied his eyes, which I'd affectionately nicknamed "tide eyes", and I wondered what he thought of mine. I had no clue where this was heading; for now, it was just friendship. Although this realization was a bit disheartening, it was the safest one for my wellbeing. After our eye contact broke, he gently squeezed my upper arm, turned around, and left. It was a small gesture, but it felt much more significant than it appeared.
Climbing the stairs to my room, I felt a twinge of sadness from our parting but also a surge of excitement for what lay ahead. I was eager to see Jacob, but when I entered our room, he was already fast asleep, snoring loudly. I took off my shoes and sank into the pillows. As the world spun around me, I fell into the darkness.
The following weeks were exhilarating, emotional, and filled with anticipation. We couldn't stop stealing glances at each other in the classroom, trying our best not to be too obvious about it. Our exchanged looks transmitted more than a thousand words ever could. Sometimes, looks can kill, but in our case, they were intimate. We never discussed our sexualities, but it seemed we had reached a silent understanding that we both liked each other. There was no denying it, and unfortunately, gossip began to spread throughout college. Our attraction was evident, even though we never sat together in the classroom —partly because I didn't want Aimee to feel alone.
Aimee, Jessica, and Jacob started noticing my more frequent absences. While Aimee tried to keep them updated on my situation, and they were happy for me, they were also skeptical since Edmund and I weren't officially a couple. We were platonic friends, with our relationship —or should I say situation-ship?—still developing. There were days when I wouldn't see him at all. However, after exchanging phone numbers, our text conversations grew from sporadic to daily as we began spending more time together working on our research paper. Sometimes, the research paper was just an excuse for us to hang out. On more than one occasion, we would head to the library and spend the entire time talking, earning disapproving looks from the librarian.
Today, we planned to meet after school to continue working on our paper. We had agreed via text that we needed to make progress and stop being stuck where we were. Simultaneously, I made an effort to spend time with my friends, not wanting them to think I had forgotten about them. They all expressed their concerns about Edmund and his intentions, but I reassured them each time that I would be fine. Yet, as I said that, I couldn't help but wonder. Would I truly be okay? Would loneliness persist? I pushed those thoughts aside, choosing to see how things unfolded for both our sakes and my peace of mind.
I learned that my little brother Jared was struggling with me being away from home. He would cry every night, and his grades were slipping. We decided with my parents that I would visit more often, regardless of the cost of the tickets. Learning about this broke my heart. I found myself dreaming about him more than once, only to wake up with puffy eyes and damp pillows.
My daydreaming was interrupted by the school bell announcing it was 5 pm. The weekly prayer ceremony for the world hunger crisis was about to begin. While it wasn't mandatory, most of the school was attending. However, Edmund and I had decided to use this time to work on our college project. I exited the classroom, letting Aimee know where I was heading. Her eyes flickered with apprehension; they too were skeptical about Edmund, who had so far avoided meeting them due to his reserved nature. Every time I broached the topic, he'd simply state that my friendship was all he needed. But today, during one of our breaks, I planned to address it again because my friends were starting to get genuinely worried.
I had decided to tread carefully, I didn't want to alarm him by making a big deal out of it. After all, why should they be worried about another one of my "friends"? Naturally, they knew Edmund meant much more to me than that, but Edmund himself didn't. He couldn't know, not until he made a more definite move. So I had to be very cautious about how I approached this topic.
Leaving the classroom, I navigated down the hallway, passed the main reception, and exited the Humanities Department building. I set off towards what I called the "Pantheon Library" due to its resemblance to the Roman Pantheon. "I'm on my way to Edmund," I thought, chuckling to myself. You know what they say about people who laugh on their own, right? —they must be recalling their past mischiefs. And that was particularly true when it came to Edmund and me. I could remember each one of them vividly.
One day, after a trip to the sea, we were heading back to Edmund's car. The sound of waves lapping at the shore still echoed in our ears when we passed a house featuring a gnome with a pointed red hat. Edmund approached it, flipped it upside down, and buried it in the ground, leaving the gnome in a twisted position. We both burst into laughter, drawing the attention of the house owners. An elderly man approached the window and shouted, "Aren't you two old for these pranks?" I felt a twinge of guilt for my involvement, but before I could reflect further, Edmund grabbed my hand and we dashed towards his car. These shared moments made it challenging to concentrate on our school project when we were together. There was simply too much going on between us. My heart accelerated in my chest as I walked briskly towards him, a mix of exhaustion and anticipation swirling within me.
When I arrived at the library, Edmund was already there, standing at the top of the steps, immovable as a statue. With his perfect looks, he could've easily passed as one — "The Edmund," people might have called it, reminiscent of Michelangelo's David. Upon seeing me, he broke his stillness and descended the steps. As he reached me, we shook hands, an undercurrent of tension passing between us.
"Hi," I said, my smile tinged with affection.
"Hello, you made it," he responded, his smile mirroring mine. I was elated to see his excitement and happiness at seeing me; our relationship had grown so much over these past weeks.
"I need to talk to you," I said, my stomach knotting, my throat dry.
"Follow me, please, Edmund," I implored him, my anxious blue eyes pleading. "We said we'd focus on our school project today."
"I know, just follow me, please," I insisted, my voice threatening to break at any moment.
"You're worrying me. What's going on?" His face, initially lit with affection and happiness, was now creased with concern. I simply looked at him, my eyes serious but expressing the urgency of the moment, not giving anything away. The weight of unspoken words lingered between us, a silence pregnant with the gravity of the conversation we were about to have. That was all he needed. He nodded and followed me.
We moved away from the library, meandering along a winding path for what felt like a long while. The forest was no longer lushly green. Autumn had claimed it, paving the way for winter. Leaves, once vibrant, were now piled in mounds, while others, orange and yellow, clung stubbornly to the trees. I veered off the trail, pushing through dense bushes and groves. I sought quiet, a place where we wouldn't be overheard.
Suddenly, without realizing where I was leading us, I found myself at the exact same spot I had stumbled upon after Jacob's friends had been so harsh with me at the mall. The majestic tree was still there, its presence providing sanctuary and a peaceful energy that wasn't found elsewhere in campus, and perhaps anywhere else. This tree, with its ancient trunk, made me feel at home. It evoked long lost feelings of tranquility that made it easier for me to talk to Edmund. Somehow, without trying to, I had found my way back to this grove. The gold and silver leaves of the tree and bushes rustled gently in the breeze, and the grass, once green, had adopted the hues of autumn. Other than those signs, the whole meadow seemed untouched by the passage of time.
"What's going on, Levi?" he asked, his tone laden with worry and his patience wearing thin.
"I just wanted to tell you that my friends are concerned about us spending so much time together," I said, trying to balance honesty with discretion. Just enough to feel like I had unburdened myself. "They'd feel better if they met you," I explained.
"Why are they worried about us? We've been having a great time, or so I thought," he said, his gaze dropping to his feet. I had learned he did that when he felt troubled. Suddenly, the confident Edmund was replaced by a more grounded and solemn version of him. It was an endearing sight, bittersweet in its honesty.
"No, it's not like that, Edmund. I've been having an amazing time with you too, but they just want to know you better," I said, taking a step towards him, sensing where this conversation was headed.
"Alright, Levi. You know I'm not a fan of meeting new people and that I avoid crowds, but I'll be happy to meet your friends. The only reason I haven't done so yet is because I tend to keep my distance from everyone." His words lifted my spirits, but did little to quell the anguish gnawing at my chest, this was already hard enough to ask from him. "For you, Levi," he added. Edmund was mesmerizing, both in appearance and personality. His selflessness and generosity were perpetually moving. Noticing my lingering distress, he asked, "That's not it, is it?" I looked at him, shook my head, and my resolve crumbled, tears welling up and spilling over.
"No, I guess it's not," I choked out, starting to sob. "My little brother Jared isn't doing well. He misses me so much that he can't sleep and he's failing school. I'm having a really hard time dealing with my nightmares and not being able to talk to him. He doesn't have a phone, so it's tough for me to reach him, especially with my parents being out all day," I cried, struggling to catch my breath and compose myself. It felt embarrassing to cry like this in front of Edmund, but our relationship had reached to a point where it felt somewhat natural and kind of comforting.
"Oh, Levi. I am so sorry," he said. To my surprise, his frown deepened into a scowl and he quickly closed the distance between us. As he neared, he enveloped me in a tight embrace, his hand on the back of my head, trying to console me. Instead of calming me, his touch sent a blush creeping up my cheeks, my tears flowing even more freely. Edmund was typically not very affectionate or expressive, or at least that's what I had thought. This was our first hug, and it sent a wave of electricity coursing through my body.