Distracted. That was an understatement. I hadn't been physically capable of completing the paperwork. It had taken all the strength I had to make it through my classes.
The doors opened, and we walked to my door, marked by the huge collage of pet memes that Lisette had papered it with. I grabbed the lanyard around my neck and unlocked it, pushing the door open.
"Well, thanks again," I said, extending an arm to take my backpack.
Geoff stepped forward instead, dropping my bag just inside the door. I stepped back automatically, but he caught up with me and pulled my body into his, one arm wrapped around my waist, the other hand tangled in my hair, puffy jackets bunched up between us. I realized his intentions just as his mouth met mine, and instantly, instinctively, I kissed him back.
I leaned into him, letting my sick and weary muscles surrender to his warm strength. I gasped against his lips as his tongue touched my teeth, and I let him urge them apart.
Finally, after a time that was both far too long and far too short, he pulled away. I staggered back a couple of steps and stared at him. He was looking at me, his breath ragged and two spots of color high in his cheeks.
"Well," I said breathlessly. "I did say next semester."
"I know," he said. "And I meant to wait. But I had to say-" He broke off.
"Goodbye," I finished. "But it won't be goodbye. The therapy will work, and we'll both be back in a month, and we'll laugh about how sick and scared I was."
"I'll never laugh at that," he said. His smile was rueful. "But I really do have to cram for my history final."
I grinned back, still feeling the pull of him but more on my own balance again. "And I do need my nap. Go on, then," I said.
"See you in January," he said.
"See you," I returned.
He raised a hand in salute as he stepped backwards, out of the door, and I mirrored him.
Then he was gone.
No longer needing to keep up the pretense of strength, I slumped onto the couch, staring at the empty doorway until it closed on the bright lights of the hallway beyond. Geoff slotted so neatly into my life trajectory: the degree, the boyfriend, the job, the marriage, the house, the kids. It was my modest version of "having it all"-what my Gramma had sacrificed so much so I'd have a chance to have. I'd never imagined any other future, though I wasn't on any kind of rushed timetable to get there.