“And that’s how you tell me? You’re almost there—just one more exam result and then you’ll graduate!” Logan shouted joyfully while I shifted to look, bored, at the students going in and out of the library.
“Yeah, it’s not a big deal,” I answered, annoyed. In reality, I had minimal hopes for my future, especially after I’d handed in a very important architecture project to Professor Robinson and gotten nothing more than a dismissive “I’ll take a look at it” in response. I’d been working on it for more than a year, and it was the kind of thing that professors used to assess a student’s fitness for grad school and how likely they were to actually go on to become an architect. Professor Robinson hadn’t said a thing to me since I gave it to him, and whenever I saw him in the halls, he gave me nothing but the briefest greeting, so I was convinced he wasn’t happy with it. Failing something like that was the kind of thing that could put my whole intended future in jeopardy, and with my nature and temperament, I would have a hard time finding some other passion.
“Neil.” Logan moved in front of me, scrutinizing me closely. “Are you okay?” He cocked his head to one side for a better look, and I sighed.
“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” I held his stare with my icy one, trying to keep him from looking deeper because I knew that he could read me, and if I let him, I had no chance. A moment later, he took me by the arm and pulled me along with him into a more private corner.
“Bullshit,” he blurted out angrily, his hand still tight on my bicep. “You’re running from someone who could actually care about you and make you happy. Do you understand that? Selene scares you because you know everything would be different with her. She scares you because she’s the only one you’ve ever really wanted,” he told me, not for the first time, and I regretted telling him everything as soon as I got back from Detroit. I was so messedup; I’d told him all about our night out, the fortune cookies, the kiss, the“What if I…,”and our fight.
“Enough, Logan.” I yanked myself sharply out of his grasp and straightened my leather jacket. “I’m not like you. Selene isn’t like Alyssa. We don’t have the kind of relationship built on love that you have with all the canoodling and kissing and shit. Get it through your head!” I rapped his temple with my index finger, and he flinched at my touch.
“I’m just saying, you have to stop running from the things you feel. The things you want,” he insisted, trying to wear down my armor but to no avail. It had taken me years to build it up; I had been living with it my entire life, and it was a part of me by now.
“Logan, I don’t want anybody. I don’t want a fucking relationship. I’m never giving up my freedom. I’m not going to compromise myself for the same pussy that half the population has between their legs. Are you clear on that?” The words rushed out of me like a flooding river, a sandstorm, an earthquake whose epicenter was located right there in the small space between us.
“You don’t have sex with anyone anymore. How do you explain that?” he threw back at me with a knowing expression that I didn’t like at all.
“Because I have a problem. Did you forget? Dr. Lively told me not to have sex for the time being,” I explained, lowering my voice. I had always been a private person and did not want any prying ears to overhear such sensitive information.
“So you’ve gone back to therapy then?” He cocked an eyebrow.
“No,” I answered shortly.
“But you’re taking his instructions, right?” he asked, and I looked at him, momentarily confused. “Why haven’t you tried having sex with Selene? Are you afraid you’d orgasm with her?” he said insinuatingly, and I almost laughed in his face.
“Trust me, I did one of my favorite things with her, and it still didn’t work.” I gave him a wink and thought back on what had happened in the pool house when I’d climbed on top of her to thrust between her breasts.
Logan snorted. “Sex with her would be different and you know it. You’d feel emotionally involved, and that’s why you’re trying not to give in, isn’t it?” He adopted a know-it-all expression, and I grew angry.
“I need to get back in. I have to finish up some stuff for my portfolio.” It was a transparent excuse to end the conversation, and my brother shook his head, refusing to let me leave.
“Have some faith in Selene. If you’re worried about her accepting you for who you are, it’s already happened. How many times have you gone off the rails in front of her? How many times have you fucked up with her and she’s let you right back in?” He paused for effect, but I refused to answer his questions. “Despite all that, she’s never judged you,” he added, looking into my eyes. For a second, I wondered if Logan had told her anything about my history, but I shook off the suspicion. My brother knew how reluctant I was to talk about that with anyone; he’d never do something like that behind my back.
“She’d be disgusted by me,” I answered, my voice melancholy but filled with conviction. No woman would ever truly accept a man like me—someone with such profound wounds—by her side.
“No, she would understand you,” Logan said confidently. But I just shook my head and walked back toward the library. I had no desire to continue that conversation; thinking about Babygirl upset me, and I didn’t want my mood to be dependent upon her.
And yet, the more I demanded that Selene get out of my head, the more firmly entrenched she became. She was there every hour of the day, constantly making herself known. Sighing, I went back to my table and sat down in front of my book. I grabbed my pencil and began to chew on it, the way I always did when I was focused on something. All around me was peaceful silence, interrupted only by the occasional rustling of some pages. Someone cleared their throat to get my attention, and I looked up automatically. Standing before me was Professor Robinson in a nice suit, a pile of papers clutched to his chest.
“Neil—may I interrupt you?” he asked me politely.
“Hello.” That was all I managed before I spotted the smile curving his thin lips.
“I’ve looked at your thesis project, and I need to tell you that, despite how long I’ve made you wait, your work has impressed me. It’s excellent,” he said approvingly. I could hardly believe it. I furrowed my brow and glanced around, noticing two girls at the next table giving me curious looks. I wasNeil Miller, after all. I ran with the Krew and was well known for reasons that had little to do with academic excellence. I stood up abruptly, towering over my professor, and shut my book with a snap.
“Would you like to discuss this somewhere quieter?” he guessed, probably assuming I didn’t want to disturb the other students. In reality, I just didn’t want them knowing I loved architecture and that I had one of the highest GPAs in the entire major.
“Yeah, let’s get out of here,” I said, and he gave me a cautious look, but I didn’t care. I grabbed the book with one hand and slipped the pencil into my jacket pocket, and then we exited the library.
“So…” Professor Robinson began as we strolled down the campus walkways, occasionally pausing to greet a student. I stayed by his side, eager to hear what he had to say. “As you probably know, Neil, I’ve always thought you were one of my most promising students, but I was waiting to evaluate your final project to really be sure.” He smiled and continued walking along slowly. I slowed to match his pace.
“I’m glad,” I managed finally, because this dick had completely ignored me for weeks, making me think that my project had been a total disaster, when in fact…
“I want to make you an offer.” He stopped abruptly, and I did the same.
“What is this about?” I asked him, looking him in the eye. Professor Robinson paused a moment before answering.
“I’ve selected two local architecture students—the two most deserving students—to put forth for an architectural internship in Chicago. You’re one of them.” I stayed silent while he finished. “It’s a highly valuable experience. The duration varies, but the main purpose is to help you learn all the skills a good architect needs. You and the other selected student will be able to make connections with a working microcosm of an architectural studio. You’ll get to see everything that goes into the design process. You’ll meet people who share your passion and live for free in a shared apartment provided by the program. Travel fees are also covered; all you have to do is pack your bags and chase your dreams,” he finished, and I was so shaken up—not to mention shocked—by his offer that I hadn’t even noticed when we’d been joined by a third person.
