The End

I was wrong. He came home at 6. I was so happy to see him. I guess I wasn't so dumb to hold on to that little bit of hope that he would actually do what he said. We spent the whole evening together. He is asleep in my bed now. He fell asleep halfway through a movie.

He said that it was just awkward with the ex. That he tried to be friendly, but she did not seem to want to talk to him. I feel bad that she treated him like that. I know that I should be relieved that my worst fears didn't come true, but I did not want to see him hurt either. Although, he didn't seem hurt. But even if he did, he may not tell me, given the circumstances. I hope that he really is okay, and isn't just trying to spare me a conversation about her. I really would listen if he wanted to talk about how she acted toward him at the conference.

Earlier tonight we were... you know... and I looked him straight in the eyes. He said, "I must care about you, because those eyes get me." I swear that I saw love in his eyes. Really. But I guess I can't read too much into a look.

He talked to his mother on the phone when I was at his apartment earlier. He told her how well the conference had gone, and how good he felt about his academic future. Every time he talks about his prospects for getting into a PhD program, I feel so sad. For two reasons. First, it makes me think about the future, and how he will probably not be part of mine (although I want him to be so, so badly). And second, the fact that he talks with such hope and passion about what he wants academically stings, because I want him to talk about me with the same passion. I want him to want me in his life (REALLY in his life--not just "keeping in touch") past August. I want him to want me as much as he wants to succeed academically.

The truth is, I don't really care where I am next year academically, professionally, or geographically. What matters to me is him. I need to find a way to tell him that without scaring him. I might regret it if I don't try.