“I met Damian just before senior year. We were both in this pre-med event to get advice on how to best spend this crucial year to get ready for med school. It's Grace who had given me the tip.”

“So you two met because of her? Is that why she is nosey about it?”

“Partly. But that's also because she's Grace. And who is being nosey about my love life right now?”

“Excuse me, who is coming up with strategies to get me naked?”

I roll my eyes at him. “Whatever. So I am paired up with this absolutely adorable guy and we start talking about what we want for the following year, what our dream career would be like, why we were interested in medicine, the importance of diversity among doctors… It was a bit of love at first sight, but for some reason, I was so sure he was straight and I didn't really push for anything. But then he asked me if by any miracle I was into guys and if any bigger miracle I was single, and if by the biggest miracle I was into him enough to get coffee sometimes. The rest is honestly a bit of a rom-com cliché. Plus outstanding sex. Truly.”

“Aah. That's why we want him back…”

“It's not why but it doesn't hurt.”

“So meet-cute and then happy, let’s-conquer-the-world relationship, is that it?”

“That’s it.”

“But then you questioned your future, singular, and he questioned your future, plural.”

“Yes. That’s pretty much it.”

“And you trust that if there is a second time it will be different?”

“Damian… he said he got scared when I did a full one-eighty on him, and I get that.”

“You can freak out and still support the other person. Or at least talk about things and try to understand where they are coming from before breaking up with them.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“I can’t have someone else telling me that going back with Damian is wrong. That this thing still in my heart when I see him shouldn’t be there. I can hear it when it comes to Clark, but Damian… he screwed up. Doesn’t he have the right to try to make amends?”

“He does. And you do. Look, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about anything you’re feeling. I do understand that you are still attached to those guys.”

“Do you?” This was a low blow and I desperately want to take it back instantly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did. Let’s clear what just happened. There is no need to be defensive, here. I’m not telling you how to live your life, I’m not telling you that your feelings are wrong, I’m not judging your relationships. Damian still looked pretty into you when I met him. Maybe your better days are ahead. But I’m also your friend and I want to make sure you make this decision for the right reason. Because they fit the list of qualities you gave me for a perfect boyfriend. Not just because it’s easy, familiar, and accessible. As for the other thing… no, I don’t really have ex-boyfriends I was madly in love with and for whom my love never faded. But I was put in foster care for neglect and ill-treatment, and yet for years, even as Taz’s parents were far better parents in one minute than she could be in a month, I would have this desire in my heart that my mom would come and get me one day. So I understand better than you think how feelings can linger, even when they are uninvited. So if I felt like this for someone who didn’t love me, I definitely understand that parts of your heart still belong to each of those boys and how bad you might want them back in your life.”

His face is serious now and I very badly want to hug him and take that pain away. However wide and deep it is.

“What happened with your first mother?”

“I do realize that it is incredibly hypocritical of me to say that after asking you to open up to me and tell me about the people who hurt you, but… I think that’s a story for later, Andrew Scott. When you and I are a bit closer.”

“I understand.”

“Thank you.”

“You still owe me something, though.”

His smile is back and this reassures me. This last exchange was tenser than the previous ones but nothing between us is broken. He stands up and unbuckles his belt again. My eyes are magnetized there instantly. Then he opens the button and my heart rate quickens slightly. He takes his pants off and the room gets a little warmer. I have never seen him naked. But I have now seen enough of his body, one part at a time, to summon a pretty accurate picture.

But reality takes over the fantasy. I have a tattoo to stare at. I ignore his underwear as best as I can to not be tempted to try to estimate his bulge and look at his uncovered skin instead. Scott’s right leg is nothing but skin and hair, but his left leg, from somewhere under his lowered pants to somewhere under his underwear, is covered by a climbing plant, going around his leg, swirling, wrapping, leaving some patches bare…

“Yes,” he says before the idea even pops in my head and I smile, getting on my knees to look at his leg. From afar, the design looked rough, but once more the details are quite delicate and intricate. I don’t know if I would call this one beautiful, but it’s definitely mesmerizing. I let my fingers follow one of the stems, all the way to… on his thigh, between two leaves, where the skin is not covered by any tattoo, there is a lump that looks like scar tissue. The shape and size are very specific. I look up at him.

“Is that…”

“Yes.”

“Can I ask about it?”

“I’ve been in situations with guns pointed at me many times. But that’s the only time I’ve been shot. It hurt like hell and it took a lot of physio to be able to move properly after that, but it didn’t touch anything vital. And believe it or not, I already had the tattoo. So the bullet very miraculously avoided all the leaves.”

“And have you ever…” I don’t finish my question because I don’t know if I’m allowed to ask it.

“I have used warning shots a few times. But I only shot someone once. The guy who shot me, actually. I could see in his eyes that his next shot would be deadly. So I fired first. Well… second, but you know what I mean.”

“And have you… is he…”

“No. It wasn’t a deadly shot.”

“Did you miss, or…”

“Miss? No, I didn’t miss, you little shit. I have the best track record of the entire precinct at the shooting range,” he jokes. But then his face gets serious again and he adds: “Killing someone stays with you forever. No matter what the circumstances were when it happens. I don’t know if I could live with that. Not even to save my life. And I know someday it might be a problem in my line of work, but… warning shots and incapacitation. I don’t think I have it in me to do more. Then again, in stressful situations, instincts take over, so what do I know?”

My hand slowly slides to the back of his leg until it blindly finds the exit wound. I have a million follow-up questions but I don’t want to get us to a heavy place again. Instead, I bring my fingers back to the front of his thigh to trace over a few leaves. I am about to stop my exploration when he says: “I’m very sorry, I swear it’s mechanical more than anything.”

“What do you m… Oh, hello there.”

And there, pretty much in front of my face, the bulge is getting bigger. I try once more to ignore it and look up at his face. I think he is still oscillating between playing it cool and feeling embarrassed.

“I’ve heard thinking about baseball can help.”

“Yeah, that was my bad. I was thinking about getting something Japanese on me.”

This time, he is clearly not talking about a new tattoo. It’s fair game, teasing for teasing. I feel my face heat up but, at the same time, I don’t want to brush it off this time. I want to know how serious he is when he says those things…

But as I am working the nerve to point-blank ask him, my phone starts ringing and I sigh.

“What?”

“It’s midnight.”

“So? Are you going to turn into a pumpkin soon?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s my mom. She said since I’m not going home this year, my parents would call me at midnight… I can ignore it if you want.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m the one imposing. I think we both need a breather anyway.” But as he says that, his fingers gently brush my cheek and I am more confused than ever. About what he wants, about what I want, about…

But I pick up the phone and go to my room. It takes a while and when I come out, Scott is on the couch, messaging someone, and it’s clear on his face that there is some seduction happening between him and whoever he is talking to. He discards his phone the second I walk out, putting me first, but this was still enough to remind me where we stand. Scott is a flirt, not a boyfriend. He doesn’t like me more than he likes other boys. He is not falling for me. We are not meant to be.

It’s a good eye-opener, I think. I needed that now. Before I let myself sink too deep.

“How is your family, Andrew Scott?”

“Good. My mom still doesn’t understand my choices, but she is starting to accept them. It’s a start, right?”

“Absolutely! So. What now? Any other Japanese tradition for the holidays?”

“I’d like to point out that we haven’t followed any Japanese tradition tonight.”

“That’s sadly right. Is it time to start?”

All this time, his phone has been buzzing. “Should you take that?” I ask him.

“Not really, no. I’m otherwise engaged.”

“Look, it’s lame given the date and the time, but I’m actually already a bit tired.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“No, but… How about we leave all the heavy stuff and the discovering each other stuff for another day? Do you feel like watching a movie?”

“I do, actually.”

The rest of the evening is sweet. We settle on my bed for the movie, but the sexual tension from earlier doesn’t come back. We still talk and have fun, but we don’t push any other boundaries again. It feels like a massive missed opportunity. I know that everything had lined up perfectly for me to get some answers, but at the same time, we already shared a lot tonight and maybe it’s best not to be too greedy.

We put a second movie on, but I fall asleep halfway through.

When I wake up, Scott is gone. I knew the deal. He doesn’t spend the night. Apparently, that’s not just a one-night stand rule. It seems it also applies to friendly sleepovers. It shouldn’t be a surprise, I shouldn’t take it personally, I shouldn’t read anything into it, but…

It makes me feel cold and lonely.

I get to the kitchen and there is a note on the counter. “I didn’t want to wake you, you seemed too peaceful. Merry Christmas, see you at Taz’s party. Or before. I’m always just a message away.”

And the apartment still is lonely, but it’s not so cold anymore…