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  I take a bite of the hot dog I bought at the café.

  The moment I entered the place, I knew exactly what I would eat. All the scents melted inside my nose, but somehow managed to decompose, offering me the chance to categorize everything that would be on the menu before I even saw it.

  My friend Jesse invited me for lunch with a short text two hours after the meeting. And although Andrew Miller wasn’t close to my perimeter, I felt suffocated inside my own bureau, and all the walls of this institution. The more time I spend there, the less I feel entitled.

  “So, what is wrong with him?” My friend asks.

  “You say that like I haven’t explained for the last thirty minutes.”

  “Yes. Thirty minutes. You’ve spent thirty minutes rambling about that new professor. You’re obsessed.”

  My eyes threaten to drop out of their sockets. “Obsessed? Are you out of your mind?”

  “You’ve violated my mind with your fucking thesis about that guy.”

  “He’s having everything that I ever wished for. And he comes back to teach? Voluntarily?”

  He bites into his food (a rather plain taco and unseasoned chips by the scent) and purposefully waits to chew and swallow before answering. “Some people do love their job, you know?”

  “I would love my job if I were in a lab, doing my research.”

  He sighs, watching me with his pretty green eyes. He looks like he’s done with me for the day. I might have talked a bit too much, but what can I say? It’s been twirling in my head non-stop since I left that room 15-04. I’m mad, pissed, furious. “Are you doing this for yourself or your father?”

  “What is my father doing in this conversation?” I yell, almost dropping my food from my grasp.

  “He’s pressuring you.”

  He is. But that is not the point.

  Jesse and I met when I was still a student. We immediately connected over sports and good food. On the latter, we have very different tastes, but fortunately, we agree that pizza might be our favorite one. He has yet to try Slovak food, but he resents coming for dinner at my parents’ place since I’ve depicted a rather hideous image of my own father. “I’m doing this for me. All of it.”

  He shrugs, shoving the rest of this taco in his mouth, his birthmark stretching with the movement. “If you say so.”

  “Why are you acting like you know better? What about Tania? Still seeing her?”

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  Commitment and Jesse have never been in the same sentence before. Whenever he’d speak about his conquest, a new name would pop into the discussion. At some point, I stopped trying to understand and decided my best friend had unresolved issues.

  Maybe that’s why we get along so well.

  “As a matter of fact, I am,” he joyfully answers, while trying to hide his excitement.

  “Are you two serious?”

  “Come on, Alex, immediately, the big words,” throwing his hands in the air.

  I scoff. “Isn’t it the usual course of action when being with someone for so long?”

  He scratches his temple, thinking. “It’s been… three weeks.”

  “Personal record, right?”

  His foot collides with my leg under the table. “That’s rich coming from you. Have you ever been in a serious relationship?”

  Touché. Moving on. “What’s stopping you from telling her?” I insist, finishing my hot dog in one inhale.

  “What about you?” He retorts with a playful smile stretching his lips.

  What is he talking about? Before I can properly voice my question, he rubs his hands together after eating the last chip in his bucket. “You know what you always tell me. Honesty’s the best.”

  He looks at me knowingly, as if this piece of advice could apply to my own problems in life. Which I see no correlation with. Absolutely none. No. Nope. Not even when I think really hard about it. “Can we make a deal?” Jesse continues, and I drop my napkin on the table, already standing up.

  “No. I’ll pay the tab.”

  “Sit down.” He orders. He’s about to lecture me. Like I’m a child.

  “Only if you promise me not to turn into my father,” I negotiate, and he chuckles, his arms crossed. The bell of the door rings, and a couple comes in. I sigh loudly but eventually obey. “What?” I demand, keeping my voice down for the curious ears.

  Jesse rests his elbows on the table, leaning closer to my face. “I talk to Tania about what I want, and you explain your feelings to him.”

  “That’s not as simple as that. If Tania rejects you, you’ll be sad, but you’ll bounce back, like always.”

  “Where’s the difference?”

  “I’ve already tried multiple times, but he just doesn’t listen to me. All he thinks about is my successes. He wants results. I know he can be a prick, but my father wants what is best for me, and I can hear it. I don’t want to burden him with every single moment of uncertainty that I have.”

  Jesse's smile reaches his ears. His eyes glow with maliciousness. “I’m not talking about your father.”

  It takes a few more seconds for the information to reach my brain. Because who would he be talking about other than my father? He’s the exact person I should be talking to for the struggles I face in my grand plan. But by the mischievous grin on my friend’s face, it finally clicks. “Why the hell should I talk with him?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? He could help you reach your goal. Give you advice. What’s your schedule?”

  “I have classes.” My tone is harsh, and I don’t like where this conversation is going.

  “All afternoon?”

  My mouth pouts, and my response struggles to come. “No.”

  “Then it’s settled.”

  “Nothing is settled, Jesse, I refuse to talk to him!”

  He’s the one to stand up and reach for the counter. Before I can say anything, he slides his credit card onto the machine, and the satisfied beep echoes in the restaurant, despite the customers’ conversations and the light music filling the atmosphere. He comes back with a serious face, and my arms are still crossed over my chest. “At least go see what he does.”

  He winks at me and grabs his light vest. I’m immobile when his hand rests a moment on my shoulder. “Deal?”

  The pressure isn’t enough to hurt, but he pushed onto it on purpose. As a response, I grunt. But that seems to satisfy him. He gives me a peck on the head and flees from the slap I try to administer to him. “Shoot me a text tonight!” he shouts.

  The bells ring again.