Page 60 of Learn Your Limits
Me:I hope your first day of classes goes well.
Me:My office and my home are always open if you’d like to meet.
Chapter forty-four
Emiliano
The last text message I sent Reid plays over in my mind as I tidy my office after a grueling first week back.
Currently, my office hours have nearly doubled. The colleague my department covered classes for last semester unfortunately had to officially resign, and we have yet to find a permanent replacement. As busy as this first week back has been, I find the extra work to be a welcomed distraction, though I cannot say Reid isn’t always in the back of my mind.
Things have been tense between us. His messages are short—if he answers me at all—but I can’t blame him. Not after how I abandoned him at the gala.
I’m a mature and composed man. I should have set aside my feelings and been there to take care of Reid. I shouldn’t have run away from him and left him in a situation where he was clearly panicking. The unyielding spiral of emotions that ran through my mind aren’t what I remember most from that night.
Reid’s scared, teary eyes are what haunt me.
Leaving him is a mistake that will always follow me. One that I won’t dare to repeat if Reid will still have me.
Day after day, I live with this sinking pit in my stomach knowing that we truly could be over. All of the torment we went through, all of the progress we’ve made, the declarations of love shared between us, could be burnt to the ground because of my actions.
We haven’t spoken much other than a few texts, but I know he’s suffering too. I’m constantly torn between knowing it’s best to wait until he feels comfortable speaking with me, and the burning desire to hold him in my arms and tell him he’s safe.
“Fuck,” I curse to no one but myself. Slamming my briefcase closed, I keep my hands on the smooth leather and lower my head, closing my eyes in frustration. My breaths are shaky, and my fingers tighten in the material beneath them as I grant myself a moment of fragility.
I’m exhausted, and I’m ashamed to say my patience is wearing thin. I miss Reid so dearly. A part of myself feels like it’s missing when he’s not around.
I need to make this right.
Glancing at my wrist, the clockface on my watch reads nearly ten p.m. It’s a Friday night, and I’m wallowing in self-pity in my office.
Maybe I’ll walk home tonight and take in the brisk night air. I wish a twenty minute walk didn’t sound so tiring right now. My body feels like it’s running on fumes.
I stand and sling my bag over my shoulder. Walk or not, Ineedto get out of this building. The gray walls feel like they’re suffocating me as I begin to rush down the hallway.
I pause for a moment, considering whether or not to stop by the staff lounge and brew a quick cup of coffee, but the thought of what is practically sludge touching my lips leaves me wincing as I make my way to the exit instead.
Coffee does sound nice, though. Just not that mediocre espresso.
Stopped outside the entrance of the building, I suddenly remember the coffee shop on campus that’s open at all hours of the day. Though not my frequent shop, as I usually just bring my own from home, the coffee there is decent.
I can already feel my body shivering, breath visible as I stand and contemplate my next move. Caffeine this late at night will certainly affect my sleep, but it’s not as if I have anyone to sleep next to at home or any exciting plans for the weekend.
I don’t contemplate for long. My feet are already leading me toward the shop before my mind can finalize a decision. A steaming hot cup of coffee on a cold January night walk home—a comfort for my self-appointed torture by freezing.
A bell at the top of the shop door chimes as I make my way into the coffee shop. The door closes behind me as I take a moment to shake off the cold. While not coziest of aesthetics, the interior of the coffee shop is modern but still welcoming.
Only a few tables are occupied this late in the night, and I’m assuming most students have a welcome back party to attend tonight.
The counter is empty once I make my way through the dining area. A silver bell with a note reading “ring for service” greets me before I begin to read through the menu. I’m in need of something hot for this cold night, but the thought of a plain black coffee does not appeal to me.
A few winter seasonal options are listed, so I decide on a latte flavored with cinnamon, caramel, and topped with crystalized brown sugar. As I retrieve my wallet, it dawns on me that the flavors I chose are the exact ones on thechurroReid thoroughly savored on our vacation.
Everything always comes back to him.
Ringing the bell, I use the sound as a reset of my thoughts, knowing there’s not much for me to do than to wait for when he’s ready to meet again.
“I’ll be right there,” a familiar voice calls from a room in the back of the shop, stunning me so suddenly that my wallet drops onto the counter with a soft thud.
