“Will do,” I said sincerely. “For now I’ve been helping to plan another peaceful protest that will go from the clock tower down to the commons. I’d appreciate the school not shutting it down.”

“We would never shut down a peaceful protest. The right to gather peacefully by students has a long tradition here.” He pointed at his monitor and looked up at me again. “I’ll make sure to say something about it in my own Twitter account, and let other faculty know if they want to end class early or let the students who want to participate leave class, that they have my blessing.”

“You’re on Twitter?” I asked before I could help myself, at which he responded with a hearty laugh. “I have three grandchildren in college. I’ve been on Twitter for years. I’ve been following and admiring you for a while now.”

Well, I’d be damned.

I walked out of Dr. Simons’s office and headed to mine with my head swimming, but one thing kept coming up to the surface.

Easton.

The more I thought about that night, the bigger the hole in my stomach got. Because I knew that, just like with Dr. Simons, my own assumptions and my own fear of not being seen, made me put up walls. It helped me protect myself from getting hurt, but I’d also been keeping out those who could lift me up.

I needed to talk to Easton, but first I had to make sure I hadn’t fucked up things beyond repair. I walked into my office, closing the door behind me, and before I could talk myself out of it, I called Priscilla. I considered Camilo, but he would just curse me out, and I needed someone who could keep a cool head and give me some clue on how Easton was doing.

She picked up after one ring, and before I could say a word she let me have it. “I’m driving in to work and have ten minutes. I hope you called ready to be read for filth, because I got no time to play with any of you fuckboys today.”

I sighed, but didn’t even consider protesting. “How’s Easton doing?”

The exhale on the other side was sort of over the top, but I knew what I was getting into when I dialed the number. “How do you think he’s doing, Patrice? You’ve been icing him for two days and letting him feel like he’s a fucking monster for acting out of fear that you were going to get hurt.”

I could almost see her mouth twisted to the side as she talked. I sighed again, not even sure what I wanted to say. “I was unfair, but I also was hurt, Pris. Easton had been waffling on this shit with the stops for months, yet when it was me, he acted like it was a life-or-death situation.”