That gut feeling I got the very first moment I met him had taken shape during the meal, and now it had developed into a firm conviction. What I had initially thought was a bit of overprotectiveness on Eli's side had subtly morphed into low-key territory marking. I'm not sure if he meant it or not, but he had sent signal after signal in my direction. 

I am not stupid; I've been in love before.  I've felt jealousy enough times to identify the signs of it. 

He showed me how much he knew Nathan with a steady display of intimate trivia that he casually presented before me here and there, and the message was not lost on me: we both know you don't know this, but you should. 

The way he managed the conversation convinced me that he was aware of my attempts to know more about Nate and about them, and yet he took pains to avoid giving in. I thought he was trying to respect Nathan's privacy at first, but as the exchange went on, the feeling seemed different; he sounded like someone who was protecting valuable secrets, secrets that were proudly his, from a nosy intruder, while flaunting the prize right in front of their nose.

Despite how blatant the display was, I could still have attributed the whole thing to a toxic codependency of sorts, or just the crappy personality of a screwed-up individual, if it wasn't for the other kind of signs. The unconscious hints that I am certain even his sharp wit wasn't aware of.

The way he looked at Nathan when he spoke, the absolute delight he couldn't hide when he made him laugh, the tenderness when recalling their many anecdotes together, even the occasional flustered cheeks if they happened to touch accidentally… The poor guy was head over heels.

And at least I had won that battle, and I could tell he was actually trying to deal with it graciously by his good-willed efforts to ease the discomfort that Nate's clueless blunders caused me now and then.

But it was eating him up. And he spent the entire afternoon between his rational wishes to get along with me and his primitive urge to put me in my place.

I pitied him for that. But his petulance infuriated me. I was thankful for his good-natured kindness and annoyed by his possessiveness. I hated that I was jealous of him, and loved that he was jealous of me.

I understood now why Nathan had waited this long to introduce us.

And where was Nathan standing in this silent conflict? If I had to say, I seriously think he was completely oblivious to it all. He was devoted to his disgusting dessert and politely uninterested in our conversation. I doubt he noticed the territorial combat that erupted across the table.

As regards his attitude towards Eli… I couldn't tell. He was obviously fond of him, and it was hard to watch how deeply comfortable he was around him, but I saw no signs of him reciprocating the kind of feelings I was sure Eli harbored. However, I was not entirely at ease. You could never tell with Nathan. And after that first encounter, I was certain any attempts to find out more would be shut down rapidly.

I would take my chances with Alejo. The cousin was infinitely easier to handle. I was certain I could get whatever details I wanted from him without much effort. His social nature made him drop his guard quickly.

By the time we said our goodbyes, I was completely worn out and ready to see Eli go. That afternoon had been more than enough for a first dose, and I had way too much to think about.

He greeted us, suggested we got together again soon, hugged me, reiterated how gorgeous I was, and lingered, hesitating.

I wondered if it bothered him, being forced to leave us to enjoy our alone time. I was embarrassed by how much that possibility pleased me. 

“See you tomorrow for Game Night, right, Natei?”

Ah, they already had a new playdate scheduled. One last good-bye grenade was thrown into the battlefield.

“Sure.” 

“Great. I'll get going then. ¡Te veo mañana!”

He finally, finally left, waving back all the way until he disappeared around the corner.

“Of course, he speaks Spanish,” I sighed, to myself. For once, Nathan heard me.

“He speaks five languages, but he learned Spanish for my sake,” he added, probably thinking I was in awe at his friend's linguistic skills. “He's a smart guy.”

“I can tell,” I said, bitterly. He stared at me, perplexed. 

I'll never understand why I found his dense obliviousness so cute. I hated how much I liked him. He looked so impossibly handsome under the moonlight, looking at me with those huge, dark eyes.

“I didn't get a chance to tell you how nice you look today,” I said, hugging him.

He tensed up and stuttered something about his shirt being really old. I grinned. Four months in and he still got so flustered when we got even slightly physical.

I reached out and kissed him. He kissed me back lightly, politely, like he always did. Every kiss with Nathan was like a school kid's first kiss. It was impossibly sweet, but after so long, I was craving a bit more.

“You know, Nate, it's Friday… we have no classes tomorrow, and my roommate is out of town,” I whispered into his ear. “Wanna stay over tonight?”

He froze, took a step back, and looked at me with what can only be described as sheer panic.

“Uhm, I– I'd like to, but I have practice tomorrow morning. Like, really early, and it's already so late, I mean, I don't play well when I'm tired– I get all sluggish and miss the ball, Coach Anderson always says I need my eight hours– maybe tomorrow night? No, wait, no, tomorrow's Game Night at Eli's, so… next week? Maybe– maybe next week's better?”

I think that was the most he had said in a single sentence since I met him. I couldn't hide my surprise and disappointment. He stammered some more and then remained silent, completely blank.

I understood; I really did. It was no surprise. I had entertained the possibility that he was probably a virgin for a while now. I was okay with that. It was completely understandable for him to freak out, but he had been rejecting my advances for over a month, and I was beginning to feel a bit hurt.

That night of all nights, after that tedious, anxiety-ridden afternoon, I really needed some reassurance from him, any hint that would make me feel safer, and wanted, and, well, more like his girlfriend.

I knew it was petty and immature of me to be hurt, but I was, and I felt so irritated I decided it was best to leave before saying something I would inevitably regret later. I didn't want to hurt him, but my emotions -and my tongue- were not quite under command. I was not used to feeling rejected.

So I left.

I didn't even say goodbye. I turned and walked away.

A small part of me hoped he'd come after me, stop me, and walk me home, but he didn't.

Before turning around the corner, I looked back.

He was gone.

I stopped a cab and went home alone. It was probably for the best.

I had way too much to think about.