She’s an older woman. I wonder if she’s judging me. If she knows how wrong it is for a man with my age and my power and my will to be with a woman like Jane.

There’s wisdom in her eyes, though no censure.

“She’s told me a lot about you,” Mary says. “I understand that you’re supportive of her goals. That you talked her into coming to the campus tour.”

I make a short, affirmative sound.

Jane gives me a curious look. I’m usually not so surly with someone who’s being nice, but I can’t help it. Being here makes me restless.

Being on a campus that just emphasizes my wrongness to Jane.

Being out in public where paparazzi could confront her at any moment.

Being faced with this woman, this advisor, who doesn’t really know Jane, but in some ways is in a position to take her away from me.

Mary nods. “I’m glad she could come. She would definitely flourish if she lived here in one of the dorms with easy access to the other students, to the study groups, to the professors.”

“Oh, no,” Jane says. She sounds a little shy but still resolved. “I’m definitely still interested in the correspondence courses. I prefer it that way.”

Mary smiles. “That will be a loss to our classrooms, but I understand you have to do what’s right for you.” They say their goodbyes. I nod to the advisor, who walks away.

Jane looks at me, her expression worried. “Are you okay?”

I ignore the question and point instead to the booths. “Do you want to look around?”

Her dark eyes take in the bustle. “No. Mary gave me the date and time for a meetup with other prospective students who hadn’t made a final decision yet, but…” Jane blushes. “People who she thought were passionate about their education. But maybe we can walk along the path. There’re so many trees here. And old stately buildings. Just imagine everyone who’s learned here over the decades.”

I take her hand and we turn down a wide cobblestone path, dappled with sunlight streaming through the trees. As we leave the courtyard, things become quiet. Buildings surround us.

This is where her classes would be if she came to campus. They’re empty now. School is on break.

She’s the one who reaches for my hand. Usually, I can’t stop touching her. I can’t stop holding her hand, her waist, her shoulder. I can’t stop feeling her smooth skin, but it burns now when she reaches for me. I have to grit my teeth in order to keep holding her hand.

Guilt, that’s what this feeling is.

We walk in silence for five minutes. Ten.