Nightlife ✓

34 | gift

IT RAINED ON THE WAY back from lunch.

The light spatter of moisture that had accompanied us through our meal rolled into a strong downpour. As soon as we stepped outside of the Chinese restaurant tucked into a corner at the strip mall, icy water struck my face and hands like falling pins. I gasped out of shock, "Shit."

Quen held a hand over his eyes. He smiled blissfully down at me, his cheeks ruddy from the 火锅, as if we weren't being soaked to the bone. Neither of us had brought an umbrella, so I offered, "Back to the dorm?" It was the closest form of shelter.

Quen took my hand in his. "Lead the way."

We broke into a jog, dashing across the water-slicked road. I had hoped we would be able to arrive in five minutes, but I underestimated my ability to run for that long. Quen wasn't even out of breath when I stumbled into a walk beside him, holding up my finger to indicate that I needed a minute. Damn athletes.

Instead, he dropped his pace to a stroll. His hair was plastered to his temples, made shiny by the water. "Let's take our time."

"We're going to catch a cold."

"So be it."

I laughed amusedly. So be it. If Quen was happy, I was happy. As we walked, he swung our hands merrily back and forth.

And as we walked, I apologised for irrationally ignoring him after seeing Joelle and him together at the mall. I told him how long I'd cared for him this way. I recalled short memories I had of him, explaining how he looked from my point of view and the things that had run through my head in our encounters. With each tale, his eyes grew more and more starstruck, like his favourite book character had come to life before his very eyes.

The college campus emerged before us, quiet and pensive on a rainy Saturday afternoon. We darted underneath the canopy of any tree we could find, weaving our way closer to home. Quen kept asking me to tell him more about the time we'd spent together, and I'd happily obliged him.

I told him that the flute was now my favourite instrument. I told him that his SciBall hairstyle was devilishly handsome, but I preferred when his locks were soft and untouched. Quen's face flushed a bright pink, and with a giddy smile on his lips, he asked me no more questions.

When we hurried into the foyer of my dormitory, Quen shook the water from his hair like an excited puppy. Droplets from his head flung all around the room. "You're going to drench the furniture," I chastised.

Quen glanced around with a bashful smile. "It'll evaporate?"

I laughed and tugged him toward the lifts. Our hands didn't part as we entered and I pressed the button for the eighth floor. Once through the common room—which was thankfully empty—I unlocked my door and hurried inside.

A belated wave of gratitude washed over me as I remembered that Riley had taken a strategic visit to Carsonville. Maybe she preempted what would happen before I did—having had more experience with serious relationships than me—but I was glad to have somewhere to continue hanging out with Quen. I felt like I could spend hours and hours with him, not even kissing, just talking.

I'd missed his company so much and it was only just hitting me now that I had him back. All of him. I'd missed him making fun of the absurd things I had to advertise on social media. I missed challenging ourselves with the same coding milestones. I missed our library study sessions and distracting conversations about anything and everything, scientists, films, food, our families.

My feelings for Quen made me frantic and nervous but Quen himself had always made me calm, comfortable and happy. I wondered aloud how he'd never seen that.