“Of course not,” I say. “We don’t have to spend every night together.”

•

Several evenings later Matías comes over. He ties me to the fridge using my bra, arms behind my back, skin drawn tight across my chest. For weeks now, he’s been saying that he wants to tie me up, “and have my way with you,” he’d whisper in my ear while pressing himself against my hip bone.

The next morning I wake up to the sound of the toilet flushing; he comes out of the bathroom and slides back into bed, shivering. I wrap blanketed arms around him and pull him close, and I fall back asleep. The second time I wake up, he is gone—he’s spending the weekend in Chicago with the other writers-in-residence—and I am hugging a pillow that smells like him.

I go to make coffee in the kitchen, where yesterday’s clothes have been folded neatly and placed on a chair. I gather them and carry them to my room, along with my laptop. I’m planning to spend the weekend without Matías catching up on my own writing. As I’m sitting in bed checking email my phone buzzes with a text from a classmate who volunteered to show the visiting writers around Chicago. Sorry to ask, but do you have any knowledge of Matías’s whereabouts? He’s not on the bus with everyone else.

I feel my cheeks tingle with a flush of blood. I’ve been trying to keep our relationship a secret—unsurprisingly, dating the visiting writers is highly discouraged—and I clearly haven’t succeeded. Next comes concern. I imagine him leaving my apartment and getting hit by a car. He still doesn’t have a cell phone, just the phone in his hotel room, which he never answers. I think back to a recent conversation. “Claire will also be in Chicago this weekend,” he told me, “and we’ll all probably be spending time together. I wanted to let you know, and if it bothers you, I won’t go.”

“No, it doesn’t bother me,” I responded, which was true. I no longer felt threatened by their tequila-infused kiss. “I’ve decided to trust you, remember?”

“Good, because you have nothing to worry about. Though I’m beginning to suspect that Claire’s interested in more than just my work.”

“Well, kissing her might’ve led her on a bit, Matías.”

Annoyed, I respond to my coworker’s text, Maybe he got a ride with Claire?