Four days, a three-day weekend, and two outfits-- it just doesn’t quite add up. I just kept ending up in Brooklyn and not leaving. There’s sun and lots of food and hours of awful reality shows and naps. There are lots of great naps.
Everything is good, but I feel like something is stirring.
He asked about my plans for the next weekend. He told me what he was doing. I’m ignoring it until he makes it impossible not to.
We’re sitting on his bed, kissing and cuddling when he asks me:
“Do you want to come to Princeton next weekend?”
I sit back. He’s going to a big family graduation party, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that.
“I don’t know.”
That’s all I’ve got.