"Yeah," I lie. "Let's hear about these phases."
JP launches into his presentation with enthusiasm, the others chiming in with suggestions and arguments. It's everyday, geek house chaos.
But I can't stop staring at my mamma's text.
No matter what.
God, I hope that's true.
Chapter 20
Tell Auntie Sylas Everything
Gavin
The library study room smells like old coffee and stress. Mostly stress. Sebastian's been radiating it since I walked in twenty minutes ago.
"Okay, let's try again." I shuffle through the practice questions on my laptop, the screen casting a pale blue glow across the cluttered table between us. The questions are standard stuff, the kind Sebastian's probably answered a hundred times in his sleep at this point, but today even the easy ones seem to be hitting different. "Why medicine?"
"Because I—" He stops mid-sentence, and I watch him carefully. His jaw tightens first, then his whole body follows suit. He runs both hands through his shaggy black hair, dragging his fingers through it until the whole mess is standing up at odd angles, like he's been electrocuted.
It's a tell I've learned to recognize; it means his brain's spinning faster than his mouth can keep up, which usually happens right before he either gets brutally honest or completely shuts down.
Right now, the scared edge in his eyes is leaning toward shutdown.What is going on in that brain?
"Can we skip that one?"
The question hangs there between us, heavy and uncomfortable. Doc doesn't skip questions. Doc doesn't skip anything. He powers through, caffeinated and determined, like he's got to prove to everyone, including himself, that he belongs.
But right now, he looks fragile in a way I've only seen a handful of times, and every instinct I have is screaming at me that this goes deeper than med school interview prep.
Iwant to hug him and make whatever this is better.
"Babe, that's literally the first question they'll ask."
"I know that." Sharp. Sharper than usual. He's sitting across from me, but might as well be miles away. "Just... next question."
Something's wrong. Been wrong since I got here. Wore my grey sweats because he mentioned loving them last week, but he barely looked at me. He didn't even complain when I put my feet up on the table.Doc always complains about that.
"Alright. Tell me about a time you overcame adversity."
"Pass."
"Doc—"
"I said pass." He's rubbing his temples now. Classic Doc stress response. "Try another."
"These are the basic questions, Doc. The ones you've nailed a hundred times." I close the laptop, lean forward. "What's going on?"
"Nothing. I'm just—" He laughs, but it's all wrong, bitter and sharp. "You wouldn't understand."
Ouch.That stings, but I try not to let it show. "Try me."
"It's... fuck." His hand covers his face completely now, fingers pressing into his forehead like he's trying to hold his thoughts in place. I've seen him do this exact move dozens of times, right before he's about to let something real slip out, then catches himself and slams the walls back up. It's his first defense mechanism. "Can we just practice?"
"We are practicing. And you're bombing it spectacularly." I try for a smile, keeping my voice light, even though a cold knot is settling in my stomach. "Which is super weird because last week you made me actually tear up with that answer about wanting to be a doctor. You talked about your grandfather and how healing people felt like the only thing that made sense after watching him suffer."
He flinches at the mention of his grandfather. Subtle, but I catch it. Always do.
