He got an 800 on the math section of the GRE. It was to be expected. At least, I expected it even when his nerves seemed to get the best of him. What I didn't expect was the turnaround. That I probably should've, but I didn't.
"Are you staying over Friday?"
"I'm intending to... why?"
"Cause we should go out for brunch on Saturday and have that talk I've been putting off."
He was right. He had been putting it off, with his "let's wait until after I take the GRE..." nonsense.
Now, here he is, with his expected perfect score, and his PhD applications to begin. And here I am with my future to ponder over before Saturday (which I have to make a sincere effort to do, since he warned me about "I don't know" answers).
Back to school? Look for a new job? Move somewhere for him? With him?
Truthfully, I don't remember much about our conversation over lunch today - the conversation announcing the date of another more important conversation. I remember lightheartedly making one of those fighting for air gestures. I remember saying that this feels so grown up, and him asking why. I remember telling him that I'd never had to do this before. I remember him telling me that we could be together.
A part of me is terrified. A part of me smiles. Most of me knows I need to do some thinking.