He extends his arms, inviting me into a hug. I linger for a moment, the warmth of his body helping combat the chill in my bones. Tanner allows me to overstay my welcome, keeping his arms wrapped around me.
“So cold,” I say, chattering my teeth.
He laughs at my dramatics, but doesn’t say anything.
“I have a hazelnut latte for Kat!” the barista shouts with no joy in her inflection.
I reach forward, grab my coffee, and resist an eye-roll as I spot “Cat” written on the side of my cup.
“I swear they do that on purpose,” I say with a laugh, turning the cup to show Tanner the misspelling of my name.
Tanner’s order gets called right after mine, a black coffee that he proceeds to load up with cream and sugar—much less exciting than my latte. “You haven’t heard that conspiracy?”
“What conspiracy?” I lean against the self-service bar as he stirs his drink.
“People think that they do it on purpose to get you to be outraged and post it on social media. One time, they wrote ‘Shera’ on mine. S-H-E-R-A—not even close to Tanner. I’m convinced it’s intentional.” He scoops his empty sugar packets off the counter and drops them into the trash can.
“There is no way it’s that calculated.”
“Capitalism, sweetheart. It’s free marketing, and everything is calculated.” He laughs.
Two girls vacate the table in the corner, leaving it just in time for me and Tanner to slide in. A girl with a laptop bag slung over her shoulder groans, no doubt gunning for a table to work at.
“Do you have any classes today?” I ask Tanner as I pull my drink to my lips.
“Just the one. I tried not to have any Friday classes this semester, but by the time I was scheduling there was only one option for my third-year design studio, so I had to take it.”
“Design studio?”
“Architecture major.”
“Like Marcus?”
Tanner chuckles. “No one, and I mean no one, is like Marcus when it comes to his schoolwork.” He takes a sip of his coffee before continuing, “So, what’s your major?”
“Photography with a business minor.”
Tanner’s eyes light up. “Photography? That’s awesome! I’m guessing you plan to open your own business?”
“Yeah—weddings, I think. But I guess starting out I’ll probably do a bunch of stuff. I take jobs on the side, but I don’t plan to go fully in on it until after graduation.”
“You know…I need a new headshot for this job fair the university is hosting at the end of next semester. Do you think you could?” He asks it tentatively, as if fearful I’ll say no.
“Of course! Just tell me where and when and I’ll bring my camera!”
“Awesome!” Tanner’s cheeks redden with warmth, the icy chill from only minutes ago finally appearing to leave him.
I take a sip of my drink as a comfortable silence falls upon us. Tanner doesn’t pry or try to fill the silence, and I’ll admit I like the opportunity to just people-watch.
As I watch, a pair of young lovers approaches and claims the recently emptied table across from us. The boy’s fingers are tightly intertwined with the girl’s, and they remain so as they take their seats. They place their entwined hands on top of the wooden table, never breaking contact. It is clear they are deeply in love and don’t need words to communicate their affection.
The pang that settles in my stomach is foreign, confusing. I’m happy—the happiest I’ve ever been. And yet I find myself wishing my relationship with Elijah was like that; affectionate, but not in the way that implies intimacy is to follow or with the intent to convey a certain message. Affection for the sake of touching the other because the idea of not touching them is more painful. I want that.
“Do you have classes today?” Tanner’s voice cuts through my thoughts and pulls me back to the present moment.
“Huh?” I ask before his words catch up to me. “Oh, ha. No, I don’t. I thankfully was able to forgo Friday classes this semester. I just wanted to get out of my dorm room. After this, I probably won’t go out again until tonight.”
The Lambda house is hosting a Friendsgiving of sorts, as Thanksgiving break starts next week. We have classes on Monday and Tuesday, but it’s safe to say that most of us are already mentally checked out for the holiday.