Page 17 of Nothing To Lose
"You don't have to. Leave, I mean. Unless you want to. And if that's the case, I'll take you home whenever you're ready."
"I don't want to overstay my welcome. I've put you out too much as it is."
"You really haven't, Tyler. I promise. You're welcome to stay another night, or two or three or however many you like. At least until you're steady on your feet. Concussions are no joke."
He nods slowly, and for a moment I'm afraid he might cry again. Not because I don't want him to let those feelings out or feel ashamed for it, but because I might cry with him. Maybe it's because of the way I found him. That image that will forever be burned into my memories, the fear I felt.
I feel like I need to keep him close, keep him safe. Like he's mine to protect, even though he's practically a stranger. He’s just some guy I ran into at a coffee shop that one time, but somehow, he’s so much more. It's instinctual. I feel it in my gut.
“I should still go,” he says quietly. I don’t think he actually wants to, but he feels like it’s what he should do. Instead of taking him home right away, I delay the inevitable, just to give him time to reevaluate.
To distract him, since watching a movie isn’t really an option until his concussion is better, I start asking him questions about himself. Questions I might have asked him if he’d looked at me twice before now, if I’d taken him on a date or something.
“So, you’re a student, right?”
“Yeah. Grad school.”
“What do you study?”
“I’m working on a double master’s degree in corporate law and graphic design.”
My brow furrows in confusion. “I didn’t realize those two things are related.”
“They aren’t,” he says with an awkward chuckle. “My father wanted me to go to law school. He’s a corporate lawyer and wants me to follow in his footsteps and become a partner at his firm.”
“But you have other things in mind?”
“Not necessarily. I mean, it’s not really what I want to do, but I’m sure I’ll end up there, eventually. Going to grad school is just a way to postpone the inevitable. Once I get my masters, I’ll likely go to law school. In the meantime, I’m hoping to figure out how I can apply my abilities and talents to the firm outside of arguing in a courtroom, because I don’t think I’d be very good at it.” He wrings his hands together, like he’s thinking really hard about if he wants to share more. “There’s a part of me that hopes I can find a way to be successful at anything else so I can turn him down completely.”
“Is that what the graphic design is for?”
Tyler huffs. “Graphic design is part hobby, part my version of a rebellion.” He rolls his eyes. “I know, I know, I’msobad.”
His self-deprecating humor is cute. “Pursuing a double master’s degree to stick it to the man? I don’t know, that’s pretty impressive.”
“It’s not,” he says, leaning back against the couch. “It’s really just an excuse to avoid interning at his office. If I keep myself busy with schoolwork and tutoring, he can’t say anything because not excelling is not an option. It’s not the Valdin way.” He pitches his voice to sound deep and snooty, which I’m assuming is meant to be an impression of his dad.
“But you actually like graphic design?”
“Yeah. The classes are enjoyable, though I like the technical aspects better than the creative ones, honestly. I’m not a very good artist, but I enjoy using various software applications to bring ideas to life. Mostly we work on ad marketing and branding, stuff like that, but 3D modeling is probably my favorite. I love that I can take an idea and create a visual representation of it, even simulating functionality.”
“How does that work?”
“Well, take your gym, for example. I could plug in the dimensions of your space, and use specs to show where equipment would be best utilized to make the most out of the available area. There are endless applications for everything from interior design, to infrastructure planning, to scientific functionality…”
In any other situation, I think this would be a boring topic. Most of it is over my head, but listening to him talk about something he’s passionate about, describing various projects he’s done or is working on in his current classes, is fascinating. I want to know everything. I want to see and fawn over every class project he’s ever done. I want to sit and watch him design and model a damn seat for an airplane. However mundane, I could sit and listen to him for hours.
I knew he looked smart. I'm not even meaning in a nerdy kind of way, although does have a preppy nerd aesthetic working for him, but there's an observant quality about him. I knew this, but finding out just how smart he is? It's truly humbling.
“Does your dad know how much you love graphic design?” I ask carefully, not wanting to cross any lines.
“He knows I was interested in making it my major for undergrad, and that I wanted to pursue it over law, but he let me know pretty early on what his expectations were for me.”
“And if you went against those expectations?”
“I’d be cut off. I know it’s super privileged of me, but everything I have—my apartment, my tuition, the clothes on my back—technically belongs to him. He’s always been quick to remind me how dependent I am on him. And he’s not wrong. So I toe the line and daydream about making my own way once I’ve graduated, but I also know him well enough to know he’ll get his way.”
“That sounds… ominous.”
