So I have a plan: I’m going to ask him to come home with me for Taylor’s birthday in a couple weeks. It’s a big step for us, but maybe if I show him more of my life, he’ll be prompted to show me more of his.

Now, to find the perfect moment. Obviously, I want like, some big rom-com-level backdrop, and the fear of rejection kind of prevents me from just gritting my teeth at every other perfect opportunity that comes our way.

Since Jack and I have spent most of the cool autumn days wandering aimlessly around campus, watching leaves slowly change from greens to yellows to oranges and reds, this afternoon, like many others, we’re seated beneath our favorite maple tree.

A giant red leaf falls into Jack’s lap. It’s hard and crispy, but his touch is gentle, careful not to let it disintegrate under his touch as he picks it up by its stem. He twirls it between his thumb and pointer finger like a pinwheel. Then he holds it up toward the setting sun. Dark veins thread through its blade; a blood-orange glow outlines the shape. Bringing it down to eye level, he says, “Place your hand against it.”

I stretch out my fingers and hold them up to its surface, spreading each one out to match each apex of the leaf.

“You feel that?” he asks.

“What?”

“Keep steady. You’ll sense it. The heartbeat.” He smirks.

“You playing me, Reid? It’s dead—”

Then he places his hand on the opposite side, and though I can’t feel his flesh, I feel him, his heartbeat, the skin of the leaf as it pulses between us.

Hand to leaf to hand, he bends forward, does a quick glance around to make sure there aren’t any onlookers, and kisses me. “Fall is my favorite season, but not for the reasons everyone else loves it. I mean, sure, the leaves on the trees are beautiful, but it’s so much more than that.” He gestures in front of us toward the peaks and valleys of the mountains, a rainbow tapestry set against a hazy gray sky, and a setting sun hidden behind a thin gauze of clouds. “Something about shedding the past and going through the harshness of winter appeals to me. It’s almost religious.”

I shiver, and he cozies up next to me. He’s still a touch reticent about PDA, but little by little, he’s casting aside his fears.

“Is that something you want? To shed the past?” I ask.

He shrugs.

Maybe this is my moment to dig a little deeper. “If you could, what would you leave behind?”