Page 113 of Problematic Summer Romance

“You’re right, it’s not. You and Minami were in a years-long romantic relationship. Your new girlfriend”—the word tastes like manure—“would probably insist on you cutting ties with her. But why would she care about me?”

The quiet on the other end is so deep, I wonder if he hung up. Then: “Maya, have you been seeing anyone?”

Every relationship has a few potentially inflammatory topics to steer away from. For some it’s politics, or fracking, or ethical hunting. But Conor and I share a lot of values. We see eye to eye on most issues, with some nuance that drags us into hours-long rabbit holes of arguments andCome the fuck onandHa, gotcha!I enjoy them. He does, too.

What we never, ever talk about is whom we see when we’re not together. Not that I have anything to share.

“Where is this coming from?”

A beat. “Last week, Eli was talking about you with one of the junior analysts.”

“Who?”

“Cameron,” he says. “I forget his last name. He has an interesting background. Started out as a physicist, ended up with us.”

“I did not know about the physics-to-hedge-fund pipeline.”

“For the last time, we do not run a hedge fund, Maya.”

“Sure. And how is this related to you no longer wanting to be my friend?”

“Eli offered to see if you were interested. Maybe set you two up. Said that you hadn’t dated anyone in years.”

Fuck. Fuck,fuck. “Thank you for thinking of me, but I don’t need to be introduced to someone who studied physics. I live my entire life surrounded by physicists. If I wanted to date one, I would simply wander UT’s hallways and help myself to the first relativistic mechanics freak who also happens to be unable to change a flat tire—”

“That’s not it.”

I don’t like what I’m hearing in Conor’s voice. I don’t like not knowing what theitin question refers to. “I do not keep Eli abreast of all my romantic activities. Not to mention, I’m not interested in most of the guys around me—”

“I think you should be. I think that you should…webothshould focus on forming relationships with people who are more appropriate—”

“Age-appropriate?”

“That, too. Maya, let’s be blunt. Our relationship may not be romantic in nature, but the way it’s structured makes it hard to explain to others.”

“Which is the reason I’ve asked you to keep it a secret.” He insisted on coming clean. He was the one who wanted to tell Eli and the others. “They could be a guardrail,” he said—as though we needed someone to come between us. As though he were a car driving too fast, and I, the abyss waiting to swallow him ahead of a particularly sharp curve.

“Are you afraid of me?” I asked him once. And when he said, “Yes,” without hesitating, I took it as a win. A sign that things would soon change.

I’m a fucking idiot.

I take a deep, bracing breath. “This woman…Are you in love with her?”

He laughs. He actuallylaughs, and the hollow sound of it reminds me of who I thought Conor was before getting to know him. “Maya. Don’t misunderstand what—that’snotwhat this is about.”

I get no satisfaction from hearing that. “So you are kicking me out of your life for someone you don’t even love.” I close my eyes, feeling like I’m being swept under by a wave of something viscous and suffocating.

“If things do work out with her, and if it becomes serious—”

“So many ifs. You don’t sound very sure about this girl. Since you’re so unenthused, maybe you should date someone else?” The knot of lead inside me is expanding outward. My entire body feels heavier, toxic. Poison, that’s what this conversation is. “And since you think you can’t date someone and stay friends with me at the same time, maybe you should dateme.” My delivery is light, but by now he’s skilled at catching the tides of my anger.

“Jesus.”

“Why not? Is she smarter than me? Is she funnier? Is she prettier than—actually, don’t answer, I don’t want to—”

“No one is, Maya,” he says, with some anger. Like I justtorethe truth from him.

A rare moment of honesty between us: I bared my cards. He showed his. Now what?

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