“You going to get mad at me, too?” he asked when I shifted in my seat. “I promise I won’t ask about you getting married.”
“I’m not getting married,” I said. “Or mad, either.”
“No?”
“No.” Something strange came over me at the table, something I hadn’t felt since that night when Kyle and I hooked up. It was like my skin was too tight, yet it also felt as if I didn’t have skin at all. Pure exposure, pure vulnerability. I looked at my empty plate and shifted in my seat again. “I’m thinking of graduate school, actually.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“In what field?”
“English. But I could go either way, really.”
“Good way to put it.” Kyle leaned back in his chair, asked me more questions about what exactly I found interesting and that I wanted to study more in depth, and all of a sudden, I was enroll
