careful days

part 4

 Frowning, concentrated, you trace the outline of the hand pressed against Frank's chalkboard. You had erased November 29th and 30th off his calendar in favor of your festive drawing.

 You yelp when he pinches your butt as he strides inside, throwing a notebook onto a chair. "You're coming to my office unannounced now?"

 "Gotta decorate this place at least a little," you mumble, adding eyes, a beak, and a wattle.

 "Did anyone see you walk in?"

 "No one's around this late on a Thursday." In the corner of your eye, you watch Frank twist his wrist, closing the window blinds. "You know that."

 He coaxes the door shut, then drags down the shoulder of your sweater. The low chuckle that escapes his lips immediately hits your skin. "We've been doing this a lot lately."

 "Mmm," you hum happily, wiping your hands. "Do you guys even celebrate Thanksgiving?"

 "We do." Frank's knuckles poke and prod at you until you giggle, lifting yourself onto his low bookshelves. "It was my dad's favorite holiday, despite the fact that it annoyed Evelyn." His nose brushes yours. "She doesn't understand why we celebrate it."

 "It is weird that we celebrate it." You push the middle of his chest, looking serious. "Very problematic."

 "I know. Diane and I keep it up anyway. Reminds us of him."

 You frown, but Frank covers it with a kiss, wedging himself between your thighs. He barely talked about his dad. All you knew is that he passed away a long time ago.

 "What, are you sticking around for fall break?" Frank asks, his eyes bright.

 You hook each index finger through his belt loops, tugging lightly. "Actually..." Your gaze falls to his silver buckle. "I'm going to Europe," you whisper, "for a job interview."

 "Shit," he breathes.

 "Yeah, I can't believe it either."

 You still need plane tickets. Cheap ones, preferably. Plus a hotel room, and a new outfit, something extremely professional.

 But before all that, you had to tell someone. Someone who would be thrilled for you, finally tiptoeing on the brink of a new, great thing.

 "Congratulations. Shit, that's..."

 "We're not there yet, Adler." You're far from sealing the deal. Still, it's an interview, a campus tour, and meeting department faculty. The opportunity feels terribly real.

 "I'm really happy for you." Your fingertips in his belt loops unfold into palms, cupping his hips as he pulls you closer. "Really happy." His beard tickles behind your ear.

 "What are you doing?" you ask, warning.

 "Congratulating you?"

 "Hold on." You encircle his broad shoulders with your arms, nosing his cheek until your foreheads touch. "I had an idea, actually."

 "I bet mine's better," he mumbles, pupils wide. "C'mere."

 "Frank." You smile. "Do you wanna come with me?"

 "To Europe?"

 What you would give to see Frank in vacation mode. Laid across a recliner, his grin lazy, matching the slower pace of European life, splurging on some dishes neither of you could pronounce. You thought about inviting him the second you shakily closed the email from the university.

 After sharing some rich gelato, you'd pop open a bottle of Spanish cava together on your tiny balcony—shivering, but whatever—to commemorate this next step in your career, and he'd spend the whole night making you feel good. Deserving, even, of everything coming your way.