Oh Christ, this was a mess.

I left Eli standing in the hallway, well aware of how abruptly I’d ended the conversation, but desperate to get away from him before I did anything dumber. In the course of a 15 minute conversation, I’d managed to go from determined to tell Gwen the absolute truth to inadvertently promising Eli I’d try to keep his name out of it when I quit. If I’d talked to him any longer, who knows what I might have done.

It was absurd. And pathetic. And really, really stupid. But even with everything that had happened, I still couldn’t look at Eli without wanting to take care of him, somehow. Protect him. Even if protecting him meant doing something that compromised my morals. God, I was hopeless.

I had to find Gwen before it got any worse. Guilt roiled in my gut—guilt for not meeting my responsibilities, my commitments to this internship. Guilt for wanting to quit on what was basically my first day. Guilt for having had feelings for a fucking teenager.

I’d kissed—okay, been kissed by, but that was splitting hairs—a 19 year old. Jesus, he’d better be 19. Maybe there was some way to confirm that via church records before I actually quit, just for my own conscience. Not that 19 felt that much better. Even if Eli had been 19 and in college, that still would have felt wrong.

How could I have been looking forward to going out with a teenager? Daydreaming about one for the past month. Thinking about how pretty his eyes were, how much I wanted to hold him, to feel him under my—

Nope. Not going down that road.

We can pretend it never happened.

Those words had squeezed my heart in a vise when Eli had said them. He didn’t know—he couldn’t know—how much he’d been on my mind for the past month. Forgetting him was exactly what I had to do now, no matter how impossible that seemed, and there was no way I could do that if I still saw him every week.

The only problem was, when I set off to find Gwen, I couldn’t. I searched Seagrass from top to bottom, but as more and more people arrived and the building filled up, everyone kept telling me that I’d just missed her, or that they’d last seen her in a room that was completely empty by the time I got there. She moved through the con like a tornado, and the two times I did see her, she was in the middle of groups of people and there was no way to pull her aside.

Plus, I kept getting sucked into things. I couldn’t explain to anyone why I needed to talk to Gwen, so instead of finally tracking her down in the advisor’s room, I got roped into setting up for dinner, and instead of pulling her aside out in the parking lot, I ended up getting the AV equipment working for the kick-off circle at 9 p.m. By that point, I’d met at least a hundred people, I’d talked to all the kids in Mountview’s youth group except for Eli—who seemed to be avoiding me, for which I was eternally grateful—and the only person I hadn’t been able to talk to was Gwen herself.

After the kick-off, I promised myself. I’ll catch her eye and tell her it’s an emergency, and that’s all there is to it.

To the extent that I was able to pay attention to anything other than my panic and guilt, I had to admit that the con was amazing. People were greeting each other like long-lost relatives and it was so heartwarming to see the kids who would have been outcasts in high-school being loved and welcomed. It was inspiring, too, watching the youth run the whole thing themselves, explaining the schedule, doing skits to explain the rules for the weekend, and generally creating a warm and positive atmosphere. It was enough to make me sad I couldn’t stay.

As a boy in shiny silver harem pants and a Star Wars t-shirt got up to explain the workshops for the next day, I felt a tap on my shoulder. My heart jumped, wondering if it was Eli, until I located him on the far side of the circle, braiding the shoulder-length black hair of the kid sitting next to him. Heaving a sigh of relief, I turned around—only to see Gwen standing behind me, looking concerned.

My stomach dropped three stories. Fuck. Somehow, she knew. Had Eli told her? Had someone overheard our conversation? I hadn’t thought anyone was close enough. I didn’t know if I was more terrified of what she would say, or relieved that I wouldn’t have to lie. She motioned me to follow her back into a corner of the room.

“Gwen,” I said, “I’ve been trying to talk to you all night. Okay, first of all, I’m so sorry about everything. I never meant to—”

“Sorry? What for?” Gwen blinked. “Nick, you’re doing great. Taking to this like a fish to water.”

I stared at her, confused. “But I thought—”

“I actually have a huge favor to ask you,” she barreled on. “Something’s come up back at Mountview—it’s too complicated to get into right now, but they’re asking me to come back for a meeting tomorrow with the Board, and I’m not sure how long it’s going to take. I actually think I might need to leave tonight, just so I can make sure I’m caught up on everything. Now, obviously you wouldn’t be the only advisor here, but if I go, this would make you the only adult from Mountview for potentially 24 hours. I won’t go if you’re not comfortable with that, but—well, I’m hoping you will be. You know how it is, right? There are always 20 things that need to be done, 10 of them yesterday, and there’s never enough time to do them all.”

“I… yeah,” I said, trying to sound understanding. “I uh—I mean, I know it can be hard.”

“Oh, Nick, you’re a lifesaver,” Gwen said, throwing her arms around me as I blinked, trying to play back what I’d said. Had I actually agreed? I’d just been trying to tell her it sounded stressful. “Seriously, you’re amazing. I was thrilled when you were matched with us for your internship, and I already don’t know what I’d do without you. It feels like you’ve been with us for years.”

“I… thanks?”

Another layer of guilt settled on top of the preexisting layers—how was I supposed to tell Gwen I needed to quit after she said something like that?

“Now, I’ll have my phone on, obviously,” Gwen went on. “So call any time. But really, you’re gonna be great. The youth are more than capable of running the whole show themselves—we’re really just here to make sure the building doesn’t burn down. But that hasn’t happened in at least nine years so…”

“What?”

“Relax, Nick, I’m joking.” Gwen laughed, and I tried to join in, but it was hard. “Alright, I need to head out, so I’m going to leave them in your more than capable hands. Don’t forget—call if you need anything. And have fun!”

Have fun? I didn’t know what the next 24 hours held, but I was pretty sure ‘fun’ was the last thing I would be experiencing.

Have fun. Sure. No problem.

“So you’re Nick, right? Mountview’s new advisor?”

I turned from watching a group of kids playing Zoom—a game I’d learned as a tailgating activity that worked surprisingly well without any beer involved—to see a tall, broad-chested man with dark curly hair come join me next to the windows. He had two mugs of coffee in his hands and offered one to me.

“Yeah,” I said, taking the mug gratefully. “And God, thank you for this. I was about to fall asleep standing up.”

It was Saturday afternoon, Gwen still wasn’t back, and I’d slept approximately an hour and a half out of the past twenty.

“No problem,” the guy said, giving me an easy smile. “I’m Marcus, I work with the Scarsdale youth group.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Your first con, I take it?”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, and you’re still standing. That’s an accomplishment in and of itself,” Marcus said, laughing. “You figure out pretty quick that a constant infusion of caffeine is necessary to keep from collapsing over the weekend. Well, for those of us over the age of 18, anyway. My kid seems to do okay, but one day she’ll learn the truth.”

He gestured to a group of girls playing a boardgame in the corner. One of them, in dark jeans and a green sweatshirt, did look a little like Marcus.

“Your kid?” I blinked. “I didn’t realize you could be an advisor for your own kids.”

“Technically, I’m not,” Marcus said. “We’ve actually always gone to the Tuckahoe congregation, so when my girls got into high school, I started working over at Scarsdale instead. Cory, my eldest, made a bigger deal about me not ‘acting like her dad’ at cons, but she’s in college now. Julia doesn’t seem to care as much, but I still try to give her her space. They need a little room to breathe and grow at this age, you know?”

“Yeah. Yeah, totally,” I said, swallowing.

Leaving a little room was exactly what I was trying to do. I’d had a better time at the con than I’d expected, but it didn’t change the fact that it was still inappropriate for me to be there, given what had happened—and what had almost happened—between me and Eli.

“So Gwen tells me you’re in seminary,” Marcus said. “How’re you liking it?”

Maybe it was just because I was tired, or maybe it was because I was sick of feeling like I had to watch what I said, but I found myself answering Marcus more honestly than I intended.

“To tell you the truth, I’m not sure I’m cut out for it.”

“Really?” Marcus looked surprised.

““The school part is great,” I said, staring into my coffee mug like it held some kind of answers. “It’s the stuff that comes after school that I’m less confident about.”

“Well, you’re doing a great job here,” Marcus offered. “Mountview’s had a lot of trouble getting an advisor to stick around for the past few years—people keep moving on them, changing jobs and all that. The kids are great, but they’re a little wary of anyone new who comes along. But they seem to have really taken to you.”

“That’s good to hear,” I said, wilting a little. It would be good—if I weren’t planning on leaving like everyone else had, apparently.

“And the kids are great,” Marcus continued. “Aisling and Eli in particular. They’re close with my girls, so I’ve gotten to know them over the years, and they’ve really done a great job of making the younger kids feel included and stepping up to fill the gaps created by all the advisor churn. Between the two of them, you probably won’t have much work to do.”

“That’s—yeah.” God, I sounded like an idiot. Marcus must think I didn’t know how to string a sentence together. Though it would have helped if every one of his sentences didn’t somehow make me feel worse about the situation. “Aisling seems really great,” I made myself say. “I’ve talked to her some and she seems really sharp, really motivated.”

“Absolutely,” Marcus agreed. “Girl’s 18 going on 43, to be honest. She’s the one in charge, for sure—but Eli’s the one who makes everyone feel welcome. He’s always the kid looking out for anyone who’s left out, bringing them into the circle. They make a great team.”

As the con went on, I realized Marcus was right. Aisling was often in the forefront of any group she was in, organizing things, getting people moving. Eli was more likely to be on the edges, cracking jokes and making people laugh. But he had a knack for noticing anyone who was hanging back, and folding them into the group. He was on the edge not so much for himself, but because he was looking out for everyone else.

I felt a little guilty—okay, a lot guilty—for watching him so much, but it was hard not to. Eli was magnetic. Generous and gentle with his time and his smiles, people seemed to gravitate towards him, especially kids who were new, or the ones who, even in this group of misfits, seemed to stick out a little more. He just had this light shining from him that made everyone else feel warm. I didn’t think he was even the tiniest bit aware of it.

Gwen didn’t end up returning until after midnight on Saturday night, but she seemed so frazzled, and everyone was so short on sleep, that I decided I might as well just wait until the con was over to tell her. Besides, she’d thanked me so effusively for ‘stepping up’ and told me about ten times that she didn’t know what she’d do without me, so it seemed almost cruel to tell her now. It would be easier on all of us if I waited to have that conversation until we were a little better rested, wouldn’t it?

I headed back to the advisor’s room to get some sleep. The hallway was dark, so I didn’t even see that the shadow next to the door was a person until I was a foot away—and the shadow resolved into Eli.

“Eli, what are you—”

“Why are you still here?” His eyes burned with intensity, but his voice was quiet.

“What?”

“Why are you still here?” he repeated. “Gwen’s back. At first, I figured you were just staying while she was gone, but she’s been back for hours now, and you’re still here, and she doesn’t seem sad or stressed or anything, so I’m pretty sure you didn’t tell her. So I’m trying to figure out what you’re still doing here.”

I shifted. It was uncomfortable enough getting the third degree, but it was even worse getting it from Eli, the very reason I was supposed to be leaving.

Why was I still here?

On Friday night, it had been crystal clear what I needed to do. Just because I’d learned some additional information, some complicating factors, didn’t change the calculus on what was right, did it? So why was I so reluctant to do it?

“It’s complicated,” I said, knowing it was a cop-out answer. I expected Eli to point that out, but he didn’t—he just stared at me for a long moment, before I finally got so uncomfortable I had to break the silence. “Why are you here?”

He bit his lip and studied me, and I tried hard to squelch the little voice in the back of my mind that noticed that even in this dim light, his lips looked perfectly pink and kissable.

“I guess I just wanted to know what to expect,” he said finally. “And I thought—I thought maybe if you were still here, you hadn’t made your decision. And that maybe if I were completely honest, I could get you to—” he broke off and shook his head, like he was arguing with himself. “I talked to Aisling about it,” he began, but I cut him off.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t—”

“She already knew.” Eli gave me a rueful look. “I mean, she knew I’d met a guy named Nick in the city, and she could tell something was up with me on Friday night, and she’s not exactly an idiot. She figured it out. But that’s what I wanted to tell you—the only people who know, other than me, are Aisling and my friend Caden, and you’ll never meet him because his parents are super religious and think that Unitarian Universalism is like, a cult, so—yeah. No one else knows. And I kept my distance all weekend. And I can keep doing that. I just—I’d feel so shitty if I ruined this internship for you, and for Gwen. I know she’s really happy to have you working with her this year.” He shrugged. “I guess I just wanted to say that, if you’re still considering what to do, that those are my cards, out on the table. I’ll leave you alone, Aisling won’t say anything and neither will I. You can stay, if you want. It’s up to you now, I guess.”

Dammit.

Goddammit.

Eli’s eyes looked so hopeful, and his voice was so quiet, so tremulous, that I felt like I might break. He was trying so hard. And it really wasn’t his fault. And if I quit, would I actually be helping anyone? Or was I just lying to myself, trying to find an excuse to stick around? What the hell was I supposed to do?

I looked at the light in Eli’s eyes, and thought about how bad I’d feel if it dimmed. Maybe it was unethical. Maybe it was a huge mistake.

Actually, scratch that. It was unethical, and it was almost certainly a huge mistake, and I was definitely going to regret this.

But I made my choice.