It was the end of May. The lease ended in August, so London and I were staying through the summer. He’d insisted that I didn’t need a job, and I didn’t. Not with his money. After going on several dates over three months, I’d finally accepted that I could mooch off some of London’s money. We were actually, legitimately steady. Still, I took a part-time teaching job. It kept me close to the university and to Dr. Benson. Because I’d finished my thesis, there wasn’t really any need to see her, but every time I neared her office, I stopped by. I didn’t have the words to thank her for her guidance, but I felt like she understood. She’d known me long enough to know that I never casually stopped by anyone’s office. At some point, I’d run out of questions for her and just begun throwing out random bits of trivia.

I’d also finally made good on my promise to watch The Man of La Mancha. Taylor had managed to talk ten of our classmates into going with us. I sat with her on one side and London on the other. He looked especially handsome in his tuxedo, like he ought to be starring in a film about a young James Bond. I kept to his side, and every now and then, I sneaked my fingers up beneath the cuffs of his jacket and stroked his wrist.

“Enjoying yourself?” London asked during intermission.

I nodded. “It didn’t occur to me that I wouldn’t be able to talk, though,” I said.

London rolled his eyes and smirked. “I can think of a better use for that mouth,” he replied.

“We are in an opera house,” I said.

“And?”

“And I’m not going to humor you. I just wanted to talk Don Quixote.”

“The most famous work of Spanish literature,” London said. “I’m familiar with it. To be honest, I’m surprised you never brought up the fact that you live off Cervantes since it’s named after the author.”

“I’ll miss living off Cervantes,” I replied.

“Well, it won’t be that bad. If we end up moving to Hattiesburg, you’ll get to live off Royal Wood Street. That’s kind of nice.”

“And if we don’t move to Hattiesburg?”

“We’re going to move to Hattiesburg.”

“So confident,” I said.

Taylor edged in front of us, returning to her seat. Once seated, she adjusted her loose, blonde curls around her face, although they’d already looked impeccable. “It’s wonderful you could come out, Chance,” Taylor said. “Congratulations on Southern Miss, too!”

I hadn’t said anything about Southern Miss to her. “I’m not in yet,” I replied.

“Maybe not, but obviously, you’re going to get in,” Taylor said. “We all know you’re smart.”

“Thanks,” I replied.

Taylor hummed and looked over her shoulder, likely searching for Delilah, her mortal foe. Before The Man of La Mancha began, the two of them had gotten into a fierce debate over women’s reproductive rights. I was sure Delilah had left the second intermission started just to avoid another feud.

“I keep telling him he’s a total shoo-in,” London said, leaning over me.

“I don’t know how you both have such faith in me,” I replied. “It’s a very competitive program.”

“And you’re very smart,” Taylor said. “Out of all of us, your master’s thesis was the absolute best. Dr. Benson told me that mine didn’t even read like a proper thesis. It wasn’t up to the level it should’ve been. I mean, she was right, but she wasn’t my advisor.”

If Dr. Benson had been, she never would’ve let Taylor submit a thesis she considered sub-par.

“See? You’re going to get in,” London said.

“You keep saying that.”

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?”

The curtains opened and the lights dimmed again. I left the question unanswered only because I didn’t have a good retort. That was really a pity. It would’ve been great to get in the last word.

* * *

It was midnight when the show ended and we filed out into the balmy night. Downtown was abandoned, save for those milling about the entrance of the theater. The streets were dark but for a few bars and the glow of the streetlights. It was beautiful, especially the way the lights reflected in the gathered rain-slick pavement.

I should’ve come here more. London and I walked down the streets towards Palafox Pier with the wayward wind of a cold front as our companion. “A penny for your thoughts?” London asked.

“My thoughts are only worth a penny? I expect someone like you to fork over more than that.”

“Perhaps a Visa for your thoughts,” London said.

“I kind of wish I’d visited here more, but now I’m about to leave.”

“You still have a few months to make good on that,” London replied. “We can come down here every weekend. I would say every day, but someone had to take a summer job.”

“I’m not going to just mooch off you,” I said. “Besides, a summer job is good for me. The more teaching experience I have, the better I’ll do.”

“So you’re going to keep working towards being a professor, then?”

“Of course. Just because we’re in a relationship now doesn’t mean we always will be. Although I hope we are.”

“I suppose that’s smart,” London said. “Besides, I wouldn’t expect you to abandon all your life goals for me.”

“What about you? What plans do you have?” I asked.

“Well, about that. I think I’ll join you. I’m going back for a degree in history. Or possibly English with a concentration in film.”

“You?”

London winked. “Good thing I’ll have a super-smart boyfriend to help tutor me and proofread all my papers, huh? I’ve already registered for six classes. I figure I’ll get all the basic requirements out of the way early. It’ll give me time to figure out what I really want to do.”

I laughed. “Hey, I don’t work for free!”

“I didn’t expect you to, but maybe we could work something out. After all, you are going to have to pick up two more foreign languages.”

“French and Spanish,” I said. “I’ve already installed a half-dozen language learning apps. I’ll probably steal your French CDs, too.”

“Charmant,” London teased.

“Charming? Yes, I am. I’m also surprised you aren’t going in for psychology,” I said. “You could learn more about sex and sexuality than you ever wanted to.”

“I also have a boyfriend for that. Then I get my anatomy in at the same time.”

“Your pick-up lines are going to be the death of me.”

We’d reached the end of the pier. A few boats docked nearby served as the only lighting. The waters of the Gulf of Mexico met the shore with a soft roar.

“What’s with the statue?” London asked.

“It’s Ponce de Leon,” I replied. “The Spanish made a landing here back in the day.”

“Hmm. That explains Cervantes, then,” London said.

“Yeah, although I’ve never met anyone outside of the university who knew why it was called that.”

For a few minutes, we stood there in comfortable silence. Finally, I cleared my throat. “I never apologized,” I said. “I wasn’t very nice to you when you first moved in.”

“You did apologize. When you had the flu.”

“Did I? Well, it feels good to say it again. I’m still figuring people out, you know. I never thought I would have a boyfriend. Or friends. Taylor applied to Southern Miss, too, so I might even have a friend once I move there. It’s a weird feeling.”

“A good feeling, though?” London asked.

I smiled and rubbed my cheek against his shoulder, gazing up at London from beneath my eyelashes. “Definitely a good feeling.”

* * *

By the time we returned to our apartment, it was three in the morning. Normally I would’ve rushed upstairs, but I felt safer with London. We took our time. London opened the door and bowed mockingly to me. I rolled my eyes and flipped on the light switch. “Thank you, plebeian swine,” I said.

“Plebeian swine? I’m sorry. Didn’t I just drive you to watch Man of La Mancha? Didn’t I just buy you two glasses of wine and caviar?”

Marshmallow sauntered over and wound between my calves. I pulled her into my arms. We’d been gone all day, so the poor angel was probably starved for affection.

“No, you bought caviar, and it was disgusting. If anything, that was a punishment rather than a reward,” I replied. “The chardonnay was nice, though. I will grant you that.”

“Taylor ate some in between arguing with that other woman over Spanish culture,” London pointed out. “Clearly, she didn’t think it was a punishment.”

“Delilah,” I said. “They argue over everything. Always have. And I don’t care what Taylor thought about it!”

As I stepped further inside, I saw that the mail had been dropped through the mail slot at some point during the day and was scattered all over the floor. Marshmallow had already gotten ahold of a magazine. She’d shredded it and left bits of it all over the carpet. “Poor thing,” I said, petting Marshmallow. “Did your daddy not leave you with enough stuff to do?”

London closed the door and took the cat from me. “You left, too,” he said. “We have joint custody of the cat in this situation. Don’t you dare pin this all on me.”

I scowled and crouched to pick up the few intact envelopes.

“The new place has a mailroom downstairs,” London said, dropping Marshmallow to the ground. “In those lockbox things. That’ll be a nice change, huh?”

“Yeah, we won’t have to worry about Marshmallow murdering it.”

“Oh, I meant that I can order sex toys without the mailman having to leave them sitting right outside the door and in the walkway,” London replied cheerfully. “But that works, too.”

“You are so full of it. You haven’t bought sex toys the whole time you’ve lived here.”

“That you know of. Maybe I bought them and didn’t tell you.”

“In that case, I’m angry that you didn’t use them with me.”

My throat went dry at the sight of one envelope. It was deceptively benign, but the sender was the University of Southern Mississippi. I wedged a finger underneath the opening and slowly ripped it open. “It’s the university,” I said.

London leaned over my shoulder, so close that I felt the warmth from his body. “So what does it say?”

I fidgeted with the envelope. Maybe if I didn’t look right away, time would magically stop, and I’d have more time to prepare myself for this. What would I do if it was a rejection? I’d applied only to this school because it was the closest university with a doctoral program. It would be the easiest to move to. That’d been before London, and if I didn’t get in, it would be another semester before I could apply to another doctoral program. Assuming I could find one that started in the spring. Many of them didn’t.

“Didn’t you say Dr. Benson said you were a shoo-in?” London asked.

“Yeah, but she was my thesis advisor. She wouldn’t tell me I sucked to my face.”

Okay, she probably would’ve, but she’d have been much nicer about it.

“You do suck—”

I smacked him in the shoulder with the envelope. “I hate you so much. I’m never doing oral with you again.”

“Love you, too, pumpkin. And hey, if you get in, we’ll have great celebratory sex,” London said. “And if you don’t, we’ll have great comfort sex. So it’s kind of win-win that way. Worst-case scenario, you’ll just keep applying to doctoral programs until you get one. Easy. But I really doubt that will be the case.”

I laughed despite my nerves. I pulled out the letter and skimmed the first couple of lines. Time seemed to halt. I felt like I ought to have a joke or snarky comment to make, but when I saw London’s concerned face, anything I might’ve said fluttered away like autumn leaves caught in the wind. “Guess what? We’re moving to Mississippi,” I said.

END.