Page 19 of When Javi Dumped Mari

“Ha, yes, such an elegant way to call someone a shit-eater. If you keep working with the comemierda, then you’ll give yourself time to work on the musical.

And by living at home, you can save money until you’re ready to leave.

There’s no rush on any of this. We just graduated. You have time to figure things out.”

“You didn’t waste any time figuring it out,” he says.

“My choices were mapped out for me, remember? If I had told my father I wanted to do anything other than go to law school, he would have had a coronary. Consider yourself lucky that you get to make your own decisions.”

“Consider yourself lucky that you’ll be gainfully employed in three years.”

“Touché. Between us, though, there’s a small part of me that wants to rebel against my dad.

Maybe because it feels like I’m giving in to him.

” I sigh. “In the end, it doesn’t matter, because I actually enjoy studying law, and if I went a different route just to assert my independence, I’d be shooting myself in the foot. ”

“Yeah,” he agrees, readjusting his seat belt so he can face me. “Plus, this is your calling. A more argumentative person never existed.”

“That’s absolutely not true.”

“See?” he says, raising a brow.

“Okay, whatever,” I say with a grin.

“Anyway, this weekend is all about catching up, so tell me what’s new with you.”

“Me? Hmm, let’s see…Oh, my torts prof is looking for an assistant and said I should interview.”

“That’s fantastic…Uh, what’s torts?”

“Basically, civil wrongs. As opposed to criminal ones.”

“Woman, that explanation did absolutely nothing for me.”

Javi’s joking again, which is a good sign.

Although I can’t help noticing that his mood is light when we’re talking about me and that it plummets when he talks about himself.

I want to ask him what’s truly going on, but this weekend feels fragile, a test of our relationship, a test of what it could become, and I don’t want him to shut down.

Baby steps, Mari. Baby steps. “Okay, in real-world terms, crimes can be punished by the justice system. Like a prosecutor brings a case on behalf of the people. A tort is just the bad stuff you might get compensated for that isn’t necessarily criminal.

A slip-and-fall accident. A faulty product.

Stuff like that. An example: A personal injury lawyer brings a case against McDonald’s because their client purchased a scalding cup of coffee, accidentally spilled it on themself, and got third-degree burns. That’s a lawsuit we studied in class.”

“ Okay , professor. Now it makes more sense to me. Are the courses interesting?”

“Most of the time, yes. Other times I sit in class and Google how to get a job on a cruise ship. Anyway, Henrickson has an endowed professorship at the law school and she’s really well respected, so it’s a big deal that she’s interested in working with me.”

“Well, then, I’m proud of you, but I’m also not surprised. I assume you’re going to interview with this professor?”

“Absolutely,” I say, nodding vigorously. “I’d be a fool not to.”

“Then you’ll get the job, no question.”

I smile so wide he must be able to see it in my profile. “You’re good for my ego too, Javi.”

***

Javi drops his duffel bag in the entryway and kicks off his sneakers.

It feels good to see him in my apartment.

In the place where I feel most like myself.

Where everything is here because I chose it—from the books on the shelves to the pots of aloe vera I purchased because my thumb is whatever the opposite of green is and these suckers are almost indestructible.

In a way, this trip confirms that Javi and I are choosing each other too.

That we’re not letting ourselves drift apart simply because we live on opposite sides of the country.

“So this is where one of our country’s brightest legal minds gets shit done, huh?” he says.

“No, this is where I experience an existential crisis every ten days or so. Also where I binge Suits even though the show is wildly unrealistic.”

“You have time to watch TV?” he asks, scanning the space as he circles the living room. “I pictured you studying twenty-four-seven and getting grilled by your professors.”

I bring the gallon-size container of Purell over, and without a beat of interruption in our conversation, he puts his palms face up so I can pump sanitizer onto his hands.

“Turns out the image of a stodgy professor embarrassing you in front of your peers isn’t all that realistic either.

If you keep up with the readings, you’re usually fine. ”

“Damn,” he says, rubbing the Purell in, “I would have applied to law school had I known that.”

“You should have. You’re certainly judgy enough.”

He gives me a playfully frosty look, then bends at the waist to read the spines of the books on my shelves. “ The Costs of Accidents: A Legal and Economic Analysis. Studies in Contract Law. Fundamentals of Modern Property Law. ”

“Riveting stuff, right?” Crossing to the kitchen, I open the fridge and peek inside. “Do you want something to drink? I bought the Newman’s Own lemonade you like.”

He doesn’t immediately answer, and when I hear a faint snore, I laugh—because he’s still bent at the waist in front of my bookshelf.

“Javi!” I shout.

“Huh? What?” he says, pretending to wake up.

“Oh, sorry. I fell asleep reading these titles.” He raises his arms overhead and stretches to emphasize his ridiculous point, and his taut stomach comes into view.

My heart thumps. Yes, asshole, I know you’re there; no need to announce yourself. Now calm the hell down.

Needing a distraction, I pour Javi a glass of lemonade and thrust it into his hand. “Here, smartass.”

He takes a long sip, and I do not watch his Adam’s apple bob. No, I absolutely do not. And anyway, this seems like an excellent time to unload the dishwasher.

From the safety of my self-imposed distance, I ask, “Are you hungry? Need to take a shower?”

“Shower. Definitely.” He leans on the pony wall separating the living room and kitchen and lets out a long yawn. Then, with a smile tugging at his lips, he says, “That one was real. The flight wiped me out. Would it be okay if I took a nap after the shower? I just need an hour to recharge.”

“Of course,” I say, wiping my hands on a tea towel. “I’ll show you where everything is in a sec.” I pause and meet his gaze. “So, um, you can either sleep in my bed or out here on the couch. Fair warning, though: My bed’s a queen. I’m fine with either. You choose.”

I turn away, busying myself with unloading the dishwasher in the hopes that we can skip any awkwardness if I’m as nonchalant as possible about our sleeping arrangements.

The silence roars in my head while I wait for his answer, and I can’t help noticing that he’s taking entirely too long to respond.

A millennium later, he says, “I’m good on the couch.” After a beat, he adds, “Did you ever notice I never sat on the same sofa as you for movie night? It’s because you have the coldest feet in the world.”

“I do not,” I scoff.

“You do,” he says, pretending to shiver. “Glacial.”

“Whatever,” I say, shrugging. “More room for me.”

He grabs his duffel bag and follows me down the hall. I stack a set of fluffy towels on his outstretched arms and open the bathroom door. “Let the water run a bit before getting in. The heater’s a little moody like you.”

“Cute,” he says, hanging the towels on the shower frame.

I swipe a box of tampons off the vanity and shove it in the drawer underneath. Next, I wipe a smudge off the mirror. He watches me fuss and doesn’t say a word.

“Okay, then,” I say, my gaze tunneling to the floor. “I’ll let you get settled.” Before I can escape, he shoots out a hand and stops me. I stare up at him, my eyes widening.

“It’s a great place,” he says softly, his deep brown eyes drawing me in. “Thank you for having me. I’m really happy to see you.”

Ordinarily, I’d hug him in a moment like this, but I hesitate, and I’m not exactly sure why.

I’ve never not been attracted to Javi. That is a fact.

But sex between friends muddies the waters.

Sex between friends who now live on opposite sides of the country and need to acclimate to a new normal would turn the waters to sludge.

But none of this matters, because Javi and I have moved well past a fling.

And oh my God, why is my brain preoccupied with sex?

I am definitely overthinking this. It’s just a hug.

I rise on my toes and wrap my arms around him, my entwined hands resting on the back of his neck. “I’m really happy to see you too.”

Javi pulls me even closer, erasing the space between us, and his minty breath whispers across my cheek. Images of what could possibly come next flash in my head, and heat curls down my spine. I release him like he’s on fire.

Avoiding Javi’s gaze, I shuffle backward out of the bathroom and slam the door shut. “Have a great shower! Dinner with my dad’s at seven,” I call out. Then I rest my head against the door and inhale a gulp of air.

Okay, maybe I’m actually underthinking this.