Consciousness returned to Donovan with a vengeance. The dull throb behind his eyes sharpened into a piercing headache that seemed determined to split his skull in two. When he tried to open his eyes, the sliver of sunlight peeking through the blinds felt like a laser beam straight to his retinas. He groaned and turned away from the window, only to be greeted by a wave of nausea that threatened to empty the contents of his stomach right there.

  Tyler's side of the bed was empty, the sheets cold. Donovan vaguely remembered his boyfriend mentioning something about an early orientation meeting for his job this semester.

  With extreme caution, Donovan pushed himself up to a sitting position, moving slowly as if his body were made of fragile glass. His mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, and the taste lingering there was something he'd rather not contemplate. The digital clock on the nightstand read 10:47 AM—later than he'd planned to start his day, but given the circumstances, he was lucky to be conscious at all.

  Reaching for his phone, Donovan squinted at the screen, wincing at its brightness. He navigated to the group chat with Brad and Levi and typed:

  Pretty sure I'm dying. Someone replaced my brain with a jackhammer. I blame you both entirely. Also, best night ever. So good to be back.

  Their responses came almost immediately, suggesting they weren't faring much better:

  Brad: WORTH IT. But same. Took 4 aspirin already. May need medical attention.

  Levi: Lightweight. But seriously, great having you back. Let's do it again... maybe next month when I recover.

  Despite the pounding in his head, Donovan smiled. He'd genuinely missed this—the easy camaraderie, the shared suffering after a night out, the feeling of belonging that came with having friends who knew him so well.

  After downing a glass of water and two painkillers, Donovan dragged himself to the shower, letting the hot water beat down on his aching muscles. As the steam cleared his head slightly, he remembered his plans for the day. Classes would be starting next week, and he still needed to get his textbooks. The thought of navigating the crowded bookstore with a hangover was almost enough to send him back to bed, but his sense of responsibility won out.

  An hour later, feeling marginally more human after coffee and toast, Donovan found himself trudging across campus toward the bookstore. The air was warm but not stifling, with a gentle breeze that promised an eventual transition to fall. Students were everywhere, most looking significantly more energetic than Donovan felt, carrying boxes to dorms or meeting up with friends they hadn't seen all summer.

  The Bookie, WSU's campus bookstore, was predictably packed. Donovan joined the slow-moving line of students clutching course lists and hoping against hope that there might be used copies of their required texts available. When he finally reached the textbook section, he pulled out his phone and opened his class schedule for the semester.

  First on his list was COMSTRAT 485, Public Relations Management and Campaigns, his most anticipated class of the semester. Donovan located "Public Relations Strategies and Tactics" by Wilcox and Cameron, flipping through its pages with genuine interest. This was what he'd come to WSU for—the chance to learn practical PR skills that he could apply in the real world. After his experience in Barcelona, he was particularly interested in international public relations strategies, and he hoped the course would touch on global perspectives.

  Next came COM 400, the dreaded CAPS course—Mass Media Ethics. Every WSU student had to take a CAPS (Culminating Assignment and Project Sequence) course to graduate, and Donovan had saved his for last. He found "Media Ethics: Issues and Cases" by Patterson and Wilkins, a hefty tome that promised complex moral dilemmas and no easy answers. Still, after his summer in Barcelona, where he'd engaged with a completely different media landscape, he felt more prepared to tackle the cultural dimensions of media ethics.

  For COMSTRAT 476, Digital Content Promotion, Donovan picked up Schaefer's "The Content Code." This was the course he was most excited about—the digital realm of PR was where he saw his future, and this text, with its focus on content ignition strategies, aligned perfectly with the skills he wanted to develop. He remembered a conversation with Alejandro about how different countries approached digital marketing, and he made a mental note to bring that international perspective to class discussions.

  Last on his list was SPANISH 306, Intermediate Reading and Translation. Finding "Manual de traducción" by López Guix and Minett Wilkinson, Donovan felt a flutter of excitement. After his immersion experience in Barcelona, he was genuinely looking forward to continuing his Spanish studies. This course would help him maintain the language skills he'd worked so hard to develop over the summer, and the translation aspect appealed to the communicator in him. He thumbed through the pages, recognizing words and phrases that a few months ago would have been incomprehensible to him.

  At the register, the cashier tallied up his purchases. "$328.76," she announced, not bothering to soften the blow.

  Donovan winced, but reached for his wallet. Thankfully, his grandmother had sent him a check for $500 as a reward for his good grades in the summer program. "Academic achievement should be celebrated," she'd written in her elegant, old-fashioned script. He'd have to remember to send her a proper thank you note.

  As he was leaving the bookstore, his phone rang. His mother's name flashed on the screen.

  "Hey, Mom," he answered, trying to sound more alert than he felt.

  "Donovan! You're back?" Lori's voice came through, warm and familiar.

  "Yeah, got back day before yesterday."

  "Are you feeling alright? You sound a bit under the weather." There was a note of concern in her voice.

  Donovan winced. Even over the phone, his mother's ability to detect the slightest sign of trouble was uncanny. "I'm fine. Just, uh, went out with Brad and Levi last night. You know, catching up."

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  "Ah," Lori said, understanding immediately. "A welcome home celebration, I see. Well, I won't lecture you on responsible drinking—you're old enough to face the consequences of your choices." He could hear the smile in her voice. "How about lunch? I'd love to hear all about Barcelona."

  Donovan checked his watch. He had planned to spend the afternoon organizing his notes and textbooks, maybe reaching out to his internship supervisor, but lunch with his mother sounded like a welcome distraction. "Sure, that sounds good. Where and when?"

  "How about The Daily Grind? In about an hour?"

  "Perfect. See you there."

  The Daily Grind was a charming spot in downtown Pullman, known for its homemade soups and artisanal sandwiches. It was quieter than the campus haunts, popular with faculty and locals rather than students, which made it an ideal place for a conversation that wouldn't be interrupted by boisterous classmates.

  Lori was already seated at a corner table when Donovan arrived. She stood to hug him, her small frame barely reaching his chest. Lori was a petite and energetic, her dark brown hair now threaded with elegant streaks of silver that she refused to cover with dye. "I've earned every one of these," she often said when the subject came up. Her green eyes lit up at the sight of her son.

  "Look at you," she said, holding him at arm's length. "Barcelona agreed with you. You've got a tan!"

  "It's hard not to when you spend three months in the Mediterranean sun," Donovan replied, settling into the chair across from her.

  Lori studied his face, her expression shifting to one of maternal concern. "But today, you look a little rough around the edges. Late night?"

  "Is it that obvious?" Donovan groaned.

  "Only to someone who changed your diapers," she teased with a warm smile.

  The waitress came by, and they ordered—a club sandwich and iced tea for Lori, soup and the largest coffee available for Donovan. As they waited for their food, Lori leaned forward eagerly.

  "So, tell me everything about Barcelona. Was it as beautiful as all your photos? Did you actually understand what people were saying by the end?"

  For the next several minutes, Donovan found himself animatedly describing his experiences—the architecture, the beaches, the food, the challenges of adjusting to a new culture and language. He carefully edited out any mention of Alejandro, focusing instead on his classes, his excursions, and his growing confidence with Spanish.

  "It sounds wonderful," Lori said when he paused for breath. "I'm so proud of you for taking that opportunity. I never had the chance to travel much when I was your age."

  Their food arrived, and as they ate, Lori updated him on family news.

  "Your brother Jason and Sarah are absolutely swamped with the kids' activities. Jason's coaching Mia's soccer team now, if you can believe it. The man who once claimed sports were a waste of time is now drilling seven and eight-year-olds on proper passing techniques." She laughed, shaking her head. "And Sarah got that promotion at her firm, so they're juggling a lot, but they seem happy. The kids are doing great—Mia's still soccer-obsessed, and little Ryan is starting to read already."

  Donovan smiled, genuinely happy to hear about his niece and nephew. At seven and five, they were growing up fast, and he made a mental note to visit them soon.

  "And what about you?" Lori asked, her tone casual but her eyes watchful. "Last semester—are you ready? Got all your classes lined up?"

  "Yeah, just picked up my textbooks," Donovan replied. "It's going to be a busy semester—PR campaigns, media ethics, digital content promotion, and continuing with Spanish."

  "That sounds perfect for you," Lori nodded. "And your internship? Still on for the CUB marketing position?"

  "Should be. I need to email my supervisor to confirm, but it was all set up before I left."

  Lori took a sip of her tea, then asked the question Donovan had been dreading: "And after graduation? Have you and Tyler made any decisions yet?"

  Donovan fought the urge to sigh. The familiar irritation rose in his chest—not just at his mother's gentle probing, but at the expectations that seemed to hover over him from all sides. The plan had always been clear: graduate, move to Seattle with Tyler, start their careers, build a life together. It had seemed so straightforward before Barcelona. Before Alejandro.

  "We're still planning on Seattle," he said tersely, pushing his half-eaten soup away. "I'll look for something in PR, like we've always talked about."

  Lori's eyebrows rose slightly at his tone. She studied him for a moment, then set down her fork. "Okay," she said simply. Then, after a pause: "What's really on your mind, Donovan? And don't tell me 'nothing'—I've known you your entire life."

  Donovan felt a flash of panic. Was he that transparent? Could she see the conflict that had been brewing inside him since he'd left Barcelona—the guilt, the confusion, the lingering thoughts of Alejandro?

  "It's just... a lot," he said finally, keeping his response deliberately vague. "Last semester, graduation, figuring out what comes next. You know how it is."

  Lori didn't look convinced, but she didn't press further. "I do know," she said gently. "But remember, you don't have to have everything figured out right now. Life has a way of revealing the path as you walk it."

  There was something in her tone that made Donovan wonder if she somehow knew more than she was letting on. But that was impossible. Unless...

  "Did Tyler say something to you?" he asked, a defensive edge to his voice.

  "About what?" Lori looked genuinely confused. "I haven't spoken to Tyler since before you left for Barcelona. Why? Is there something he should have told me?"

  "No," Donovan said quickly. "No, nothing. Sorry, I'm just stressed and this hangover isn't helping."

  Lori reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "Take it easy on yourself. Senior year is stressful enough without adding to the pressure. Just know that whatever you decide, whatever path you choose, I'm here for you."

  The rest of lunch passed more comfortably, with Lori sharing gossip about neighbors and family friends. When the check came, she insisted on paying.

  "Consider it a 'welcome back' gift," she said, waving away his protests. "And come over for dinner soon. I want to hear more about Barcelona."

  They parted with a hug, Lori extracting a promise that he would call more often than he had over the summer. As Donovan watched her small figure disappear into her car, he felt a familiar mix of love and exasperation. She could read him like a book, even when he tried his hardest to keep the pages closed.

  Walking back to his apartment, Donovan's head was clearer, though the hangover still lingered at the edges of his consciousness. He had textbooks to organize, notes to review, and an email to send to his internship supervisor. The normal, everyday tasks of a college senior on the cusp of his graduation.

  But beneath the routine, a current of uncertainty flowed. Barcelona wasn't just a summer abroad—it had been a glimpse of a different life, a different Donovan. And now, back in the familiar surroundings of Pullman, he couldn't help but wonder which version of himself was the real one—the Donovan who had fallen for Alejandro under the Spanish sun, or the Donovan who was expected to build a future with Tyler in Seattle.

  As he reached for his phone to email his internship supervisor, he saw a new message notification. From Alejandro.

  Thinking of you today. Hope your head isn't hurting too much after last night.

  Donovan stared at the screen, his finger hovering over the message. Two worlds, pulling him in opposite directions. And somehow, he had to find his way forward.