Want

Eric spent more time on his hair Friday afternoon than he would ever admit to anyone. In the end, he was satisfied with the way it didn't look like he'd spent two hours working on it.

Then on the off chance that this really was a date and that Trinity might want to come up to his apartment for some reason that he couldn't, at the moment, all himself to dwell on, he cleaned. When the dishes were done and the dirty clothes were in the washer and he had managed to spray himself in the chest with Windex. He looked at the clock and ran to find another shirt to wear.

Fifteen minutes later, he had just found one and buttoned it up, when Trinity rang his doorbell.

Eric dashed to the door. And there she stood, the sexiest woman he'd ever known.

Of course, he couldn't think of a single thing to say. He grabbed the bouquet from the counter and handed it to her. She smiled. Then he knelt to pet Ed Hermann and followed her out to her car.

"Now," she said, sliding in behind the wheel, "I haven't been to this place yet, so if the food is terrible—"

"Then I'll take you out for burgers and milkshakes," he said.

The food was amazing, and despite the cheesy décor, the restaurant was cozy and the table narrow enough that he could accidentally brush her hand when she reached for the wicker basket of naan.

"I have to know what sparked this sudden desire," she said.

"What?" Eric asked, his mouth going dry. He wanted to say, it's not sudden, I have always wanted you, but more than one date in college had taught him not to blurt out what he was thinking at any given minute.

"To move to Burundi," Trinity said. "To disappear to the other side of the world, leaving everything behind. What are you going to do with your apartment? You know it's going to take some serious machinery to transport all your books, right?"

Eric took a deep breath. Thank you, Gloria Winters, for dumping me sophomore year when I told you that I could never marry a girl who didn't love Star Trek. Thank you, Danielle James, for scowling at me repeatedly during our Maymester Greek class, until I learned that women don't enjoy jokes about sexual positions and clown fetishes. Thank every one of you who taught me to clarify before saying something embarrassing.

"It's not sudden," he said. "I have wanted to travel for as long as I can remember. My parents used to lose me in the library and find me in the nonfiction stacks, surrounded by atlases and Lonely Planet guides. Anyway, everything here is ready. I'm renting my apartment, furnished. My parents are taking care of it while I'm gone. And yes, so instead of renting a forklift, we're just going to set my office on fire and watch it all burn."

"God, no," she said with a laugh. "You have a first edition of Tess of the D'Urbervilles in there."

"Not to mention some early X-Men comic books."

"You're really going," she said, shaking her head. "I can't imagine the university without you."

Eric took her hand then, never mind that it was nowhere near the naan.

"Do you think," she said, then paused as though wondering if she really wanted to ask the question. "Do you think you'll…want to come back?"

He wanted to say, part of me already does. "I don't know," he said instead. "But I don't have any plans to."

"Never?"

"I...I don't know."

The corner of her mouth twitched down. "What about—"

Eric held up the hand that wasn't holding hers. "I have gone through all the 'what abouts' with my sister. It may not be the sensible thing to do, but I have to. I think I would hate myself if I didn't, now that I finally have the chance."

Trinity watched him for a moment, then nodded and pulled her hand away from his. "So tell me more about Burundi and Amnesty International and your writing gig."

He did. And as he told her about the contacts he'd already made and the research he'd already started, he forgot that this was Trinity he was talking to because this, being out in the world, making a difference, this was what mattered, not his dream girl, not his sensible, stable life. He was good with languages. That was a gift he didn't intend to waste.

And she watched him as though she understood and admired that fire in him, even though Eric couldn't quite believe she did. Trinity never seemed to want anything.

She drove him home late that night and came up to his apartment when he offered her a cup of coffee. They maneuvered around stacks of boxes to the kitchen, where they drank their coffee, the whole pot. Then she took his hand, and they made jittery love on his king-sized bed. She wrapped her legs tight around him and urged him on, and the sound of her breathless voice separated his brain from his body in the most wonderful way.

Afterward, she lay with him for a minute, then slid into her clothes. She kissed him on the cheek before she left.