Page 10 of Love and Other Goals

The cool air returns my brain temperature to normal, and I take a breath. Surely Mateo just wants to get coffee to talk more about my time in D.C. and the Afghan Adjustment Act, right? He brought it up, but then we didn’t have a chance to really talk about it since I was eager to leave. It would be great to have a conversation about immigration policy with someone who seems somewhat informed. There aren’t very many of those people hanging around Arrow.

With that surprise mentally settled, I’m left to stew over Aaron’s surprise rejection. I’m so confused why he would keep sending me signals that he wants to talk, then make me think he wants to be my partner, but pair me up with some random freshman instead?

“Make it make sense!” I yell out loud as I park my car outside AOPi and rest my forehead on the steering wheel.

Why does Aaron have to keep playing his cards so close to his chest? How long are we going to keep trudging through these murky super-friends waters?

Is this it? Should I just wash my hands of Aaron?

I sigh out a groan. If there was ever going to be a breaking point in my crush on Aaron…this just might be it.

CHAPTER SIX

“Ican’t believe Amaya and I weren’t there to witness this!” Teegan groans as she flops back on the bed next to Amaya.

“There to witness it or to throat punch Aaron?” Amaya questions. I roll my eyes at her.

“Well, that’s what you get for volunteering to lead our great sisterhood, oh mighty president and social chair,” I tell them. Amaya shrugs and returns to the homecoming responsibilities flowchart she’s creating.

“I’m more intrigued by your interaction with Mateo,” Teegan says. “Although throat punching Aaron might be intriguing as well.”

“I haven’t decided whether throat punching is necessary,” I admonish them. “I feel so torn—I’m so frustrated with him and tired of second-guessing myself all the time. But also, I’ve liked Aaron for so long, and we make sense together in the grand scheme of my life goals.”

“How romantic,” Teegan deadpans.

“You know what I mean!”

“Yes, but back to Mateo,” Teegan says.

“Mateo and I are going to talk about immigration policy, Teegs. And I’m excited to talk to someone else who has a personal connection to it. Even though we’ve been around each other a lot at Arrow stuff and Summer Projects, I didn’t know that his parents were immigrants.”

Teegan leaps up and opens our shared closet. “What are you doing?” I inquire.

“Even if you’re just talking politics, that doesn’t mean you don’t need a cute outfit to wear tomorrow,” she responds.

“Beef, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I’m just going to wear normal clothes, thanks,” I tell her.

Teegan pouts her lower lip. “You’re no fun.”

I park my car in an angled street parking spot. I learned my lesson one embarrassing day freshman year that I am just not meant to parallel park. I may be ready to change the world for under-resourced people, but easing my car into a spot between two other vehicles is not in my skill set, and I prefer to play to my strengths.

I open the familiar faded green door to Bookafe, a local coffee shop in Center Square. Outside of the AOPi house and campus, this is by far the place I’ve spent the most time in since moving to Brooklyn. With the black walls, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, the loved-to-perfect-comfort overstuffed chairs, and variety of live plants breathing fresh air into the space, it’s the perfect atmosphere to work my way through college classes.

It’s the one place I don’t even have to wear earbuds—the eclectic playlist streaming through the ceiling speakers combined with the low hum of conversations provides an oddly satisfying soundtrack to concentrate.

The distinct aroma of coffee beans and worn paperbacks floods my nose, calming the nerves I woke up with this morning. This is just going to be a chance for you to spew all your passion for immigration issues on a willing listener. Relax. In fact, get pumped!

My self pep talk works, and I smile back at Mateo as I step up next to him in the entry.

“Hey, how are you?” I ask as we fall into line to order.

“Well, aside from the lack of sleep due to nightmares about seaweed zombie fish dragging me down into the depths of a bottomless lake, pretty good,” he says with a wry smile and twinkle in his eye.

I burst out laughing. I lower my voice after people turn to look at me. I half-whisper, “I don’t know why you asked me to do the race if you know you don’t like lakes!”

Mateo smiles and gestures toward the cashier ready to take our order. “It’s my treat today—order whatever you want.”

“Oh thanks, you didn’t have to do that. I appreciate it though.” I turn to the cashier to order. I never need to check the menu here anymore. “I’ll have the iced horchata latte, please.”

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