Tuesday afternoon brought a rare gift in Donovan's packed schedule—a two-hour gap between his Digital Content Promotion class and his Ethics seminar. Normally, he would have used this time to camp out in the CUB with his laptop, working on assignments or his internship projects. But today, he had something more important planned.

  He made his way across campus to the Holland and Terrell Libraries, his pace quick despite the weight of his backpack. The libraries were busy, as they always were mid-semester, with students hunched over textbooks or huddled in small groups around shared projects. Donovan bypassed the main study areas, heading instead for the third floor where the small meeting rooms were located.

  He'd reserved one online the day before—Room 327, a windowless space with just enough room for a table and four chairs. It wasn't glamorous, but it offered the one thing he needed most: privacy.

  Once inside, Donovan locked the door behind him, set his backpack on one of the chairs, and pulled out his laptop. The room was silent except for the faint hum of the ventilation system and the tap of his fingers against the keyboard as he logged in. He checked the time—1:15 PM in Pullman, which meant it was 10:15 PM in Barcelona. Perfect.

  He opened his video call app and clicked on Alejandro's name, his heart beating a little faster as he waited for the connection. After a few rings, the screen filled with Alejandro's face, slightly pixelated but unmistakably him—dark hair pushed back from his forehead, the same warm smile that had captivated Donovan all summer.

  "Hey," Alejandro said, his voice coming through clear despite the thousands of miles between them. "You found a quiet spot."

  "Yeah, library meeting room," Donovan replied, adjusting his screen so the sterile white wall behind him wasn't so prominent. "Not exactly the most exciting background, but at least we can talk."

  "I'll take it. It's good to actually see your face instead of just texting." Alejandro shifted, and Donovan could see that he was in his apartment, sitting at the small desk in the corner of his bedroom. The familiar space sent a rush of memories through Donovan—late nights studying together, mornings waking to the sun filtering through the thin curtains, the way the light would cast patterns across Alejandro's skin as he slept.

  "How was your day?" Donovan asked, pushing the memories aside. "Or, I guess, how is your evening going?"

  Alejandro leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair in a gesture that Donovan had always found endearing. "Long day. Had a field trip with my Urban Planning class. We spent hours exploring different neighborhoods, looking at how the urban landscape has evolved."

  "Sounds interesting," Donovan said, genuinely curious. "Where did you go?"

  "We started at Hospital de Sant Pau—you know, the modernist complex by Domènech i Montaner? It's not as famous as some of Gaudí's work, but architecturally, it's just as impressive. The pavilions are connected by these underground tunnels, and the whole place is covered in these incredible mosaics and stained glass."

  Donovan nodded, picturing the site. He'd passed by it during his time in Barcelona but had never gone inside. "I remember seeing it from the outside. It looked beautiful."

  "It is. Then we went to Parc del Laberint d'Horta—the oldest garden in the city. There's this hedge maze that dates back to the 18th century, and these neoclassical pavilions scattered throughout. It's this perfect blend of structured design and natural elements." Alejandro's face lit up as he spoke, his passion for architecture evident in every word.

  "I wish I'd seen that while I was there," Donovan said, feeling a pang of regret for all the places in Barcelona he hadn't explored.

  "We can go when you visit," Alejandro said casually, as if Donovan's return to Barcelona was a certainty rather than a remote possibility. "We also stopped at Walden 7, which is this crazy apartment building in Sant Just Desvern. The architect, Ricardo Bofill, converted an old cement factory into this massive housing complex. It looks like something from a science fiction movie—all these interconnected cubes with bridges and hanging gardens. The residents have painted their balconies different colors, so the whole thing is this vibrant patchwork against the sky."

  As Alejandro described these architectural wonders, Donovan found himself transported back to Barcelona, to the feeling of constant discovery that had characterized his summer there. Every corner of the city seemed to hold some new marvel, some unexpected beauty that couldn't be found anywhere else.

  "What about you?" Alejandro asked, shifting the conversation. "How are your classes going?"

  Donovan filled him in on the latest developments—the PR campaign for the Farmers Market, which was now moving into the creative phase; his ethics case study on whistleblowing in media organizations; the social media strategy he was developing for his internship. It all sounded somewhat mundane compared to Alejandro's explorations of Barcelona's architectural treasures, but Alejandro listened with genuine interest, asking questions and offering insights.

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  "Oh, and the project with Miguel is going really well," Alejandro added, after Donovan had finished updating him. "We've been getting along amazingly. He has this intuitive understanding of what I'm trying to achieve with the design, and he's come up with some brilliant solutions for the technical challenges."

  Donovan felt a familiar twinge in his stomach at the mention of Miguel. "That's great," he said, hoping his voice didn't betray the sudden tension he felt. "You guys must be spending a lot of time together."

  "Yeah, we've been meeting almost every day to work on it. We lost track of time the other night and ended up grabbing dinner at this little place near campus. He knows the owner, so we got this special paella that wasn't even on the menu. It was incredible."

  The twinge in Donovan's stomach intensified into something sharper. He could picture it all too clearly—Alejandro and Miguel huddled over drawings in some cozy restaurant, sharing inside jokes and special menu items, their heads close together as they discussed architectural theory. The image bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

  "Sounds nice," Donovan managed, fighting to keep his voice neutral. "So you two are becoming friends, not just project partners?"

  Alejandro seemed to consider this. "I guess so, yeah. He's easy to talk to, and we have a lot in common. He grew up in Madrid too, just a few neighborhoods away from where I lived. We probably crossed paths dozens of times without knowing it."

  Donovan nodded, swallowing the irrational jealousy that threatened to rise in his throat. What right did he have to feel possessive? He was the one with a boyfriend, the one living a double life. Alejandro was free to spend time with whoever he wanted, to form whatever connections felt natural to him.

  "He reminds me of you, actually," Alejandro continued, oblivious to Donovan's internal struggle. "The way he gets excited about things, the way he sees the world. You'd probably like him."

  "Maybe," Donovan said, though he doubted it very much. "Anyway, it's good that your project is going well."

  Alejandro's expression shifted, a slight furrow appearing between his brows. "Is everything okay? You seem a little... distant."

  Donovan forced a smile. "Just tired. It's been a busy few weeks."

  Alejandro studied him for a moment, as if trying to determine whether to believe him. Then his expression softened. "I miss you," he said simply. "Barcelona isn't the same without you in it."

  The words melted some of the tension in Donovan's chest. "I miss you too," he admitted, and it was true. Despite everything—Tyler, their life in Pullman, the future they had planned—there was a constant, low-grade ache in Donovan's heart, a longing for the city and the man he had left behind.

  "You know," Alejandro said, his tone turning slightly playful, "if you ever wanted to change your plans... after graduation, I mean... Barcelona would welcome you back with open arms." He paused, his gaze direct even through the pixelated connection. "I would welcome you back with open arms."

  Donovan felt his heart rate quicken. "Is that so?" he replied, matching Alejandro's lighter tone, though the implications of the offer weighed heavily on him.

  "Absolutely. Think about it—you could find a PR job here, use your Spanish every day, explore all the places you missed the first time around." Alejandro leaned closer to the camera, his voice dropping to a more intimate register. "And you wouldn't have to sleep on a couch. My bed has plenty of room."

  Donovan laughed, though the sound came out slightly strained. "Is that your best selling point? Saving me on accommodation costs?"

  "One of many selling points," Alejandro replied with a grin. "I could give you a more detailed list, but some things are better demonstrated in person."

  The flirtatious exchange sent a warmth through Donovan that was both familiar and dangerous. It was so easy to fall into this pattern with Alejandro, to forget the complications and simply enjoy the connection between them. But the reality always lurked just beneath the surface, ready to reassert itself at any moment.

  "I should probably get going," Alejandro said, glancing at something off-screen. "Early class tomorrow. But think about it, Donovan. Barcelona could be more than just a summer memory."

  After they'd said their goodbyes and the screen had gone dark, Donovan sat in the silent meeting room, letting Alejandro's words echo in his mind. Barcelona could be more than just a summer memory.

  What would it be like, he wondered, to return to the city not as a student but as a resident? To walk those familiar streets every day, to improve his Spanish until it flowed as naturally as English, to build a life there with Alejandro by his side? The thought stirred something in him—a longing, a curiosity, a sense of possibility he hadn't allowed himself to consider before.

  He closed his eyes and could almost feel the Mediterranean breeze on his skin, could almost hear the melodic rise and fall of Catalan conversations around him. Barcelona had worked its way into his soul during those summer months, becoming more than just a place he had visited—it had become a part of who he was.

  But then reality intruded. Tyler. Their plans for Seattle. The life they had carefully constructed together, the future they had mapped out side by side. How could he even consider throwing all of that away for what might be nothing more than a romantic fantasy?

  Donovan sighed, closing his laptop and tucking it back into his backpack. He had fifteen minutes to get across campus to his Ethics class, and Dr. Rivera was notoriously strict about tardiness. He couldn't afford to sit here daydreaming about alternate futures, no matter how seductive they might be.

  As he hurried across the quad, the autumn sun warming his face, Donovan tried to push Alejandro's suggestion from his mind. It was impossible, impractical, irresponsible. He and Tylerhad a plan. They had a future. They had a life together that was real and solid and planned.

  But as he slid into his seat in the classroom just as Dr. Rivera began her lecture, Donovan couldn't quite shake the image that had formed in his mind—himself, standing on a Barcelona balcony, the city spread out before him like a promise, and Alejandro beside him, no longer a memory but a present reality.

  It was a dangerous thought, one he couldn't afford to entertain. And yet, as he opened his notebook and tried to focus on the ethics of journalistic integrity, it lingered in the back of his mind, persistent and alluring, like the memory of a dream that refuses to fade in the light of day.