I fell asleep on the car ride home.

Last night had been nothing but misery. At least tonight I hoped to replace Michael's pillow for Michael himself, but the idea of sleeping with him again after the night at Meg's made me feel sick.

I woke up to him leaning over me to gently unbuckle my seatbelt. I stretched, grazing his shoulder with my curled fingers as I raised them over my head. The sight of the dark campus in front of me blurred.

"Morning," Michael murmured.

I let him help me out of the car, acting like I was too feeble to stand on my own. His black jacket was just as cozy as I had imagined. I knocked into him intentionally and pressed my face to the soft fuzz.

"Hey." He moved his arm to grip my waist and steady me. "You good?"

"I'm sleepy," I said, hoping I sounded cute. Otherwise I might as well jump off a bridge.

He smiled. "Let's get you inside."

I closed my eyes as we walked, moving like a drunk person, trying to discreetly touch his hand without him noticing. Which was super ironic to me, considering I was the one to strongly reject hand-holding in the past.

It was as if I only wanted him more now that I couldn't have him.

Before I could enter the dorm Michael took my arm and steered me toward the main building, a sneaky grin blossoming on his face.

I frowned suspiciously. "What are you up to?"

"Thought we'd take a detour," he said casually.

He opened the heavy door for me, while I scoffed at the thought that anyone could just wander in. There were probably people here right now. Annoyingly studious kids who stayed in the library till 5 a.m.

Michael yielded at a white arrow hanging from the ceiling and directed me further down the hall. "I feel like we don't get to hang out enough. Like just the two of us. Or maybe you don't want to."

"No, I totally do," I said quickly. Woah there. Way too bold.

"You usually make it out like you can't stand me."

I wasn't sure how to reply to that. It was true. "Actually, um, I'd rather, like... just stay at home with you than go out somewhere. But... isn't that boring?"

"I think I need more boring in my life." He stopped suddenly in front of an empty room, similar-looking to the cafeteria but a bit smaller. There were couches in the middle surrounding a long table, with little booth seats built into the wall and a vending machine with snacks and drinks. "Welcome to the lounge."

I walked up to the clear door and shook the handle. "It's locked."

"C'mere." He traveled left aways and pointed to the open windows of space in the wall that looked into the room. I assumed their purpose was getting more fresh air in or something.

"What are you suggesting?" I said. "That we climb-"

"Where's your sense of adventure, pussy?"

My blood boiled at his insult and I stomped after him, watching as he placed both palms on the window's flat ledge and heaved himself up. "I'm not doing that."

He ignored me and swung one of his legs up so that his knee pressed against the corner of the wall, then pushed the rest of his body over and landed on his feet.

I crossed my arms. "Just let me in the door."

Michael rested his arms on the other side of the window, smiling out at me. "That's no fun. Come on, you can do it. Jump."

I glared at him, but decided I would be really lame if I didn't do it. Heather probably wouldn't do it, and Heather was duller than a rock.

So I put my hands on the ledge and hopped up like he had, unfortunately only being strong enough to get my upper chest onto it. Shit. I clawed at the wall, feeling like Mufasa in The Lion King, until Michael gave in and dragged me over. I came down hard on my heels and looked up at him through the strands of hair that had flopped over my face.

"Was that really necessary?" I panted.

"Yes." He smirked as he re-fluffed my hair. "Very."

I kept looking at him, enjoying being in his gaze, smiling uncontrollably when those pretty blue eyes of his sparkled.

If only his eyes were always on me.

"Hey," he said. "Want free food?"

The vending machine was turned off, but there was a perfectly good freezer tub on the ground full of ice cream cups and popsicles. "Are we gonna get in trouble?" I asked.

"Nah." He slid open the freezer door. "Flavor preference?"

I smirked. "Cherry."

He dug out two of them and, without warning, swiftly tossed one over to me. I made a grab for it, accidentally smacking myself in the chest, then slipped into a deep cringe of shame. "Nice catch."

I was pretty sure my face became redder than the popsicle itself. Michael wandered over to the booths and plopped down, kicking his feet up on the table and tearing open his wrapper. The seating made me think of last night at the restaurant, but I shrugged it off.

It was my turn to be his date.

Be cool, Ben. I joined him slowly and curled my legs beside me so they were off the ground. "So... do you hang out here a lot?"

"Never," he said with a short chuckle. "I just passed it when I was going to class for the first time yesterday and was like, 'that looks neat'."

I rubbed my lips together, suddenly remembering how bad I was at making conversation while nervous, and tentatively licked up the side of my popsicle. Michael blinked. I smirked at him and sucked on just the end, making a wet popping noise as I pulled away.

"I hate to break it to you, cupcake, but you're not as seductive as you think," he said.

I sunk my teeth into the tip and promptly bit it off.

Michael cleared his throat. "Message received."

"You have a dirty mind. I'm just eating my popsicle."

He smiled and dropped his head down to have a taste himself.

"Hey, that's mine," I said. He snickered as I tore my hand away. "You can't just lick people's popsicles like that."

"In my experience, no one's ever minded."

I mumbled unintelligibly and stuffed it back in my mouth.

"You're adorable, have I told you that yet today?"

"Nope," I said smugly. Too smug, for when I parted my lips some of the popsicle's melted juice trickled from the corner of my mouth.

He chuckled and scrunched his sleeve to wipe it away. That made me think of the first day I'd kissed him, when we drove out and got donuts and somehow ended up making out in the parking lot. It was so stupid, sitting around in some abandoned study room eating stolen sweets, but I felt more alive with butterflies than ever before.

"You're really... I don't know." I looked down. "Captivating."

He chuckled and nabbed the side of his popsicle with his teeth to slide off the stick. "Thanks."

"Sorry," I said. "That was weird."

"No, it's just, I actually don't get a lot of compliments."

I tilted my head. "You fucking serious?"

He shrugged, then switched his feet so the opposite one was crossed over. "I guess everyone just assumes people think I'm hot so they don't bother to say it themselves."

"Oh," I murmured. "You are hot. And funny. And nice. Sometimes. When you're not being an asshole." He laughed. "And you make me smile a lot."

He looked over with this little half-smirk that made the butterflies in my stomach flutter up and fly rings around my heart. "Good. I want you to smile."

There was a war in my head, one part screaming in disgust at this miserable, lovestruck little creature I'd become, for a man who would move on in a week, for a man-

And another part simply overjoyed someone like him would want to spend time with me at all.

"You okay?" he asked, and I blinked hard, realizing I must have zoned out.

I coughed a little, then bit off a chunk of my popsicle to busy myself. "Yeah."

A weird, heavy fuzziness was spreading across my mind, cutting off any positive emotions I'd felt just moments ago. Perhaps it was a sort of defense mechanism. Like my own brain wouldn't let me be happy because even it knew I'd wind up heartbroken.

"I'm so lost," I said dully.

Michael tried to find my eyes, but I couldn't stop them from flitting all over the room. I wanted to get away from him. But why? I felt good with him. I felt so unbelievably euphoric that I wished to literally open my body and soul to him to feel a connection that was impossible with anyone else.

"If you... wanna talk about it, maybe I can help," he murmured.

"I like you," I started, thinking about the conversation I'd had with Rhoda yesterday morning. "I don't know why I like you, and I don't wanna like you, and I think my life would be so much fucking better if I didn't like you..." I sighed. "But anyway, I do. And... it's all I can think about."

I looked down as he traced the side of my hand with his pinky, swirling around until he finally linked it with mine. "Well," he said after a beat of silence, "I like you too. I think that's pretty obvious. But if you couldn't tell, I have a huge crush on you."

"But you're dating Heather," I said.

He scoffed. "So?"

"So, that doesn't make any sense. Why are you dating her if you like me?"

"Why do you care?" he said. "You wouldn't let me date you anyway."

"Well yeah, that's gross," I snapped. He laughed. "What?"

"You're just..." He snickered a little and shook his head. "You're really confusing, buddy."

I sucked the side of my now-dripping popsicle before it ran down onto my hand. I already had sticky fingers and my palm was sweating from holding it so long. "Yeah, I'm kinda confusing myself."

"I'm a simple man," he said. "I don't think too hard about things."

"I can tell."

Michael sighed. "Alright, lemme ask you something. Why-" He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. "Why does this feel so bad to you?"

I looked up at him. Now, for once, my chaotic brain decided to shut off. I couldn't think of a single good reason. "Because I'm not gay," I said finally.

"Okay," he said. "But what if... you are?"

"I'm not," I said, but my voice trembled with uncertainty. I no longer felt connected to my words. I was a madman scrambling to explain what he knew was a lie.

"I don't think it really matters," he said mildly. "You like who you like. Who cares?"

"Me," I yelled. "I care."

"Okay. Okay." He pinched his eyes shut for a split second and rubbed two fingers over his temple. "Look, I come from the country, we don't really sit around and discuss the deep psychology of sexual orientation."

"When did you, like... come out?" Just saying the words made me uncomfortable. I usually pictured coming out as some dude waking up one day, randomly putting on a bunch of makeup, and deciding he was gay.

"I don't think I ever did," he said. "Officially. I never told any of my high school friends. My asshole brother found out summer before college 'cuz he decided it would be hilarious to steal my phone and look through it. He was cool though. My dad... less cool. But by then I was moving out anyway. And then here I've just done whatever I wanted, and no one ever cared. I mean, it's not the first thing I tell people or anything, but... I don't really hide it."

"Oh," I said. "Nobody tried to beat you up?"

He laughed. "No."

"There was this one gay kid at my school," I told him. "He always wore these ugly short shirts and had earrings and got bullied all the time. I don't know why he kept doing it."

"Maybe that's just how he wanted to dress," Michael said.

"His voice was the worst part. It was so annoying. Like nails on a chalkboard." Lukas. That was his name. He would faint on the spot if he ever met Michael D'Angelo.

I looked over at him now, casually licking away at his popsicle. His lack of agreement on the matter agitated me. He looked up, as if realizing I wanted a response, and cleared his throat. "I, uh, think you'd be a lot happier if you worried about yourself and not some kid who wears ugly shirts."

"I'm not worried about him," I said. "It just bothers me. And I don't wanna be the same thing as that."

He made a groaning sigh that told me he couldn't care less about my concern. "You're not," he said. I murmured wordlessly in surprise as his hands slid around my chest and leaned me backwards to him. "Just be yourself. Wear what you want, say what you want. Kiss who you want." I smiled and he gave me a tiny peck on the cheek. "It's fun."

"It's not that easy," I whispered.

"It can be."

There were things locked away in my mind, quick, passing desires and curiosities I would never allow myself to explore.

"Maybe you could help me," I said softly. "Like, be more comfortable with myself."

He smiled at me, his hand holding the side of my face. "I would love to."

I was hopeful then for the first time for as long as I could remember. Maybe I could change. Maybe, if I just stopped being so scared to love him, I could be happy.

Either that, or someday thirty years from now I'd be waking up to think, oh, another morning. I wonder what my saggy old wife is making for breakfast. God, I wish I'd had the balls to go out with that hot guy in college.

"What are you thinking about?" Michael whispered.

I let my eyes close partially and my left eyelash brushed the knuckle of his thumb. "You, mostly."

"Me? How delightful."

"Of course, you," I said. He smirked as I leaned to kiss him, like he knew what I was doing, and pulled me closer. Our lips came together smoothly, his hands roaming down my back, mine crawling up to hold the back of his head.

He smiled mischievously and suddenly got up on his knees to be on top of me, then lowered us down until my back pressed to the seat. "You taste like cherry."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, so do you."

Michael grasped the hand I was holding the sad remains of my popsicle in and shoved it in my mouth. I choked a little. "Shush."

So I lied there, gulping as the juice drained into the back of my throat, and let him graze his lips lightly down my neck to the dip of my collarbone. I pulled in my breath with a hiss, craning my head back, whining when he sat up and left me shivering.

His hands stretched around my sides, his thumbs caressing my stomach under the hem of my t-shirt. "Your tummy's so soft."

"Isn't that a bad thing?" I asked.

"No. It's cute." He dropped his head and kissed the stretch of skin below my navel where a few faint hairs resided. When I was around the age of twelve, I decided I wanted to grow a thick, burly patch of chest hair so I would look like Sean Connery. I was obsessed with him. I waited, but it never happened.

My hips lurched as Michael traced a cold line of melted popsicle between them, getting dangerously low to the waistband of my pants. My blood pooled in my groin at his smirk, the way he looked up at me as his tongue slowly followed the path.

"This is like that movie," he said giddily. "Fifty Shades of Grey."

"Fifty Sh- what the fuck, Michael?" I said. He looked up in time to get knocked in the jaw by my side as I twisted back into a sitting position. "Get the fuck off me."

"Feisty, feisty, feisty," he muttered.

I made a strangled noise in my throat and shoved past him to walk back the way we came. "I'm going home."

"Wait up." He tore his popsicle from the stick with his teeth and jogged after me, his hands gripping my sides in the middle of the room and turning me around. "Don't go anywhere without me."

I stretched up on my toes to kiss him, meeting the cherry popsicle on his lips, and willingly opened my mouth for our tongues to brush together. I sighed deeply, straining against him, grasping his shoulders as he squeezed the back of my thigh.

"Hold onto me," he murmured into my lips. I gasped as he pulled me up, and my legs immediately bent to wind around him like second nature, like something my body knew to do before I did. He smiled and tilted his head to kiss my cheek. "Let's go home."

"I can't believe you think you're the guy from Fifty Shades of Grey," I said as he carried me over to the stupid windows.

"I don't think I'm him," Michael said. "I just thought it was funny."

"Whatever."

He stopped and sat me on the ledge, letting me swing my legs as his fingers shifted across my hips. "I guess this is goodbye, sweetheart."

I adopted an expression of anguish and reached for him desperately. "Oh no, I cannot bear to be without you," I said theatrically.

He chuckled. "Leave me, one day we will meet again on the other side."

I brought my knees up to my chest and swiveled around, then simply slid over the edge and dropped to my feet. He jumped to get one of his legs on the wall and swung himself over, landing beside me.

"Hiya," he said.

"Um, hi."

It was only as we were walking back down the hallway that I noticed the big clear cafeteria doors, which we very well could've used to exit. But when I looked up at Michael, my mouth slightly ajar in disbelief at my own stupidity, his playful grin told me he hadn't forgotten about them at all.