Page 30 of Leaving the Station
All I had, after a while, was Alden.
Nearly a Month into College
If I didn’t kiss him, it wasn’t real.
That’s what I told myself, even though Alden and I spent every day together, talking and flirting and hanging out. At a certain point I knew we would have to break the seal. To dosomethingto signify once and for all that we were both into each other and wanted to date.
I was seeing the Tees less and less and him more and more, but I still made excuses when I couldn’t hang out with them. I didn’t come right out and say, “I’m spending time with a boy I have a crush on,” because that would invite questions about my sexuality, which I wasn’t prepared to answer.
Then Alden broached the topic himself.
“Remember that night in the clock tower?” he asked. “When we first hung out?”
“Of course,” I told him.
“Well, I’ve been thinking a lot about it. About the tower and about, like, time.” It was late and we were in our usual spots in the student union, on opposite sides of our couch.
“Oh yeah?” I didn’t know where he was going with this, but he sounded serious.
“So, it’s like this: without marking time, we’re just floating through life.” He was speaking quietly, and I leaned forward so I didn’t miss a word. “But the tower ringing every hour lets usknow that time is moving forward, that it’s actually progressing. It lets us assess our life and how we’re spending our days—you know?”
“Okay, Mr. English Major,” I joked, but his face was serious.
“I’m trying to tell you something.”
I stilled. “Okay?”
“I feel like I’m, well,time,” he said. “And that night we spent together? I don’t know, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since. You’re the clock tower, Zoe. You mark my days; you give them meaning and structure. Youaremy time.”
I could tell it was a line. I would’ve cringed at it in a movie, but somehow it worked when he said it. I wanted to believe that I was his clock tower, that I mattered to him. That there was a reason I was here, in this student union, not studying to become a doctor.
“I wanted to kiss you that night,” he said. “But I’ve been waiting because I didn’t want to rush you.”
“I wanted to kiss you too,” I whispered.
Because even if I didn’t know it at the time, it was true.
Ilikedhim.
But there was more in thatlikethat I didn’t quite know how to name.
Maybe it was because I could see myself in him, a more masculine side of me. We were the same height, we had the same build. Even our hair color was the same.
But thelikewas there above it all, coursing through me as he held my hand.
Then, because I needed to know what he would say: “What have we been doing, Alden?”
“I thought we were kind of... dating?” He looked so hesitant, so boyish. “You’re not seeing anyone else, are you?”
“No,” I said quickly.
“Me neither.”
“Cool.”
“Cool.”
We both let our gazes drift to the rest of the Straight; at this point everyone was gone for the night except for some kid passed out on their laptop.
