She nods her head at me as I turn to leave.
When I get to class, I see Mark sitting at a drafting table next to a window. I grab a stool and slide it beside him.
“Hey, how are you?” he asks as I sit down.
I still hate that Mark saw me crying yesterday; maybe it shouldn’t bother me, but it does. No one has ever seen me like that except for Candace, but now I feel like I have to hide everything I’m feeling from her. The last thing she needs is to worry about me, but I’m having reservations about letting Mark in.
“I’m good,” I lie, not knowing what else to say.
Cocking his head, I’m worried that he’s going to call my bullshit, but he doesn’t. “How’s Candace?”
“Not good,” I say. I keep my own feelings to myself and just talk to him about her. “She’s having these freaky nightmares at night, and I’m really worried about her.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s weird, man. It’s like she’s still dreaming, but her eyes are open. She says she feels like she’s hallucinating. She screams and cries and gets so worked up that she begins throwing up. It’s really bad.”
“What does she say?” he asks me.
“Not much. She doesn’t like to talk about it. She doesn’t talk about anything.”
Leaning his elbows on the drafting table, he looks over and says, “Maybe you could talk to her about getting on a sleeping aid or something. It might help relax her enough to get her into a deeper sleep so her dreams aren’t so vivid.”
I look at him and wonder how he knows about this.
Reading the curiosity on my face, he explains, “I used to have nightmares when I was in high school. I took Prazosin to help me sleep.”
I don’t question him about why he had nightmares; I just nod my head and say, “Yeah. I’ll try talking to her.”
He gives me a smile and opens his notebook when our professor walks in. It feels a little strange to be here, away from her, but it also feels nice to get a break and to see Mark. We spend the next ninety minutes discussing our final capstone projects for graduation. After class, I tell Mark that I need to go home and check on Candace before my next class.
“You mind if I tag along? I’m done for the day, so I can hang out with her while you’re in your next class.”
“You don’t have to.”
Looking over at me while we make our way through the quad, he says, “I know I don’t have to, but I want to.”
I nod my head and say, “Okay, I’ll drop you off at your car then.”
I am suddenly feeling a little self-conscious when he reaches down and takes my hand. I haven’t felt this way since I first came here three years ago and started being with guys, but that never felt like this. Serious. Intimate. Something about this makes me feel very aware of the people around me. My body tenses up, but Mark never says anything. He switches the subject, and I try to focus more on what he’s saying rather than what I’m feeling.
“So, the guys and I got booked to play a gig this Saturday,” he says.
“Oh yeah? Where at?”
“Blur. It’s a bar right off campus.”
“Yeah, I’ve been there a couple times. Nice place,” I say as we walk through the parking lot towards my car.
“I know you’ll say no, but I wanted you to know that I want you to come.”
When we get to my car, I unlock the doors, and he drops my hand to walk around and get in. I’ve only seen Mark play that one time, and that image passes through my mind. How hot he looked while playing his guitar and sweating through his shirt. Yeah, I want to see him play again, but he’s right, I’m gonna say no. I just can’t leave Candace for the night.
“I’m sorry,” I say and he interrupts.
“Don’t be. I know you need to be with Candace, I just wanted you to know.”
“Thanks for understanding, man.”
I turn into the lot where Mark’s Range Rover is and drop him off.
“Go ahead and go on up to the apartment, I’m gonna stop by Peet’s and pick up some food for Candace,” I tell him as I take the key off my key ring and hand it to him.
“Okay, grab me a coffee while you’re there, will ya?” Mark asks, and I nod my head before he slides out of my car.
When I arrive at Peet’s, I place my order and take a seat while I wait. I watch the rain collecting on the window and allow a moment of peace among all the strain from these past few days, but that peace is short-lived when I hear that all too familiar accent.
“You look like shit.”
I don’t even want to look at him. He’s a sick reminder of what I’ve been trying to escape. Mark makes me wish I could just forget about all the crap I used to do, and having Preston here just fills me with guilt. Fills me with the thought that I don’t deserve someone as good as Mark.
“What do you want?” I ask with a fleeting moment of eye contact.
Dropping his head slightly to the side, he says with a cheap grin, “Pathetic,” but it comes out more taunting than anything as he walks away towards the pick-up counter.
I hear my order being called, and I pick up the food and drinks that are sitting next to him. He looks over at me, and again, with the same mocking tone, tells me, “See ya around, mate.”
When I walk into my apartment, I’m happy to see Mark sitting on my couch watching ESPN.