Three Years Ago
“I have one more final and the showcase, and then I will be finished,” I say as I run my fingers over a strand of Mallory’s chestnut hair. She tilts her head and smiles at me. I gaze into her eyes and think of where we’ll be a month from now—Europe. An expansive summerlong tour through multiple countries to explore firsthand the artistic culture of the Old World. It has been my dream for years, and now that I’m graduating from Savannah College of Art and Design, the prestigious art school of the Southeast, and have learned everything I can from a textbook, I can now expand my knowledge of the arts and grow in my career the best way humanly possible.
And to make the journey even better than I could ever imagine, Mallory has agreed to come with me. On our third date, after I regaled her about my plans, she told me how she had similar travel goals. And in the two years we’ve been dating since, we have been planning and saving for our post-graduation journey across the pond. We have mapped out a handful of specific sites and events, but we do plan to keep the trip as spontaneous as possible—to live as the locals do. We’ve taken classes for different languages in our spare time and have become friends with students from Italy, France, and Germany who are stateside studying abroad, to learn more about cultural lifestyles.
And in one month, we’ll be there, living the dream. If we love it as much as I think we will, we may not come back.
I snake my hand around the back of Mallory’s neck and kiss her. I love her so much. She is everything.
I was hesitant to date Mallory back then. Or anyone, for that matter. I wanted to stay focused on school. My parents didn’t want me to attend SCAD. They didn’t think a degree in the arts would count for anything worthy of a future. They wanted an engineer or a scientist. They wanted me to go to Georgia Tech, especially after my dopehead of a brother decided not to go to college at all and go directly into the police academy upon graduating high school. My parents wanted us to be scholars, not a blue-collar enforcer of the law and a head-in-the-clouds arts major.
School had to be my main focus. I had to keep my scholarship and prove that I wasn’t wasting time or money.
Then, Mallory came along. She was persistent. We shared an art history class together, and one afternoon, after class, she asked me out for coffee. I politely declined. A few weeks later, she asked again. I declined once more and apologized. I told her I had a full load of schoolwork and had to focus on that. The next day, during class, she slipped me a note. It read:
I’m swamped too. But it’s just coffee. Not a proposal. PS, you have a great smile.
Reading the note made me smile. I looked over at her, smiling, and nodded. One coffee outing led to another. And then a dinner. We clicked on a lot of levels. She made me feel at ease. Before I knew what had come over me, I found myself thinking about her all of the time. After six months, we moved in together. We were both so inundated with school, we agreed living together would allow us to stay on top of classes and still spend plenty of time together.
Which leads us to today. She’s the love of my life. I cannot imagine my future anymore without her. I’m planning to propose while we’re in Europe. My heart pounds every time I think of her saying yes.
“I have my last final on Thursday,” she says after breaking our kiss. She wraps her arms around me and brings her face into my chest. “I feel like I’ll finally be able to breathe then,” she continues.
“It’ll be over before you know it,” I encourage. “And then we’ll be on a plane heading toward the time of our lives.”
For a second I think I feel her tense up in my arms. It was a flash of brevity, however, and she looks up at me with reassurance in her big crystal-blue eyes. I kiss her again, then trail my lips down to her neck and collarbone.
“Luca,” she whispers. That is all it takes for my blood to begin pumping faster. My heart is racing. The pressure is building in my boxer briefs. Her saying my name, in her sexy, sultry voice has me at attention in zero-point-four seconds flat. My hands dance along the hem of her T-shirt and begin to make their way north.
Before I reach the bottom edge of her bra, her hands cover mine and she pulls away from me. She looks at me, batting her eyes. “I’m sorry, Luca, but I have to go. I have study group at nine.”
I look at the clock on the wall. “It’s only ten-after-eight.” I kiss her neck again, but she pushes at my chest. “I have to, uh, get a book from the library first. I meant to do it last night but completely forgot.”
“Oh. Okay.” I kiss her forehead, then walk over to the dresser. I grab a T-shirt and throw it on. “I’ll walk with you. We can grab some coffee.”
She runs her fingers through her hair and takes a glance at her reflection in the vanity mirror. “No. I’m supposed to meet Felicity at the library. I don’t want to be late.” She walks out of the bedroom and into the living room.
Felicity?
“I don’t think I know Felicity,” I say, following her. She tosses a few things into her messenger bag and throws it diagonally over her shoulder. Then she looks at me and gives me a shrug. “She’s a friend from class.”
Without skipping a beat, she walks toward me and gives me a quick kiss on the lips. “I’ll be home tonight, probably late. I’ll text you and let you know about dinner.”
I throw up a wave. “Okay. I love you.”
She’s out the door before I get the words out.
It’s just school stress, I tell myself. She’s got a lot on her plate. We are both in a state of chaos with school right now.
Everything will be fine in a few days.