“I was just gonna grab a coffee from Nero. But you’re not a coffee guy, if I remember correctly.” Grant pointedly avoided the cardboard carafe of Dunkin breakfast roast during the organic chemistry finals study session last semester.
“You remember! Do you always catalog details about your study mates?”
“Just the ones that bring the best notes and freshly bakedsponges.” I elbow what is essentially his hip. I’m a tall girl, but Grant is a literal tower next to me.
“I told you about my British Bake Off binge in confidence, Beckett. Don’t make me regret it,” Grant says with a chuckle. Grant might be teammates with Will, but this is the extent ofour friendship. Quick exchanges between classes, brief chats at parties, and every now and again, random details about our lives in disparate study sessions. He’s one of the few men on campus I can do this with. In another world, Grant and I might be real friends. In this one, the one with Will, I settle for his warm acquaintance.
“I seal these lips for no one… but I’m not beneath a coffee bribe,” I offer with a friendly wink. Grant reaches ahead of me and opens the door, and I inhale the aroma of freshly roasted coffee beans. “Thanks.”
Grant’s frown reaches his brows as he lowers his voice.
“How’re you holding up today?”
It’s sweet of him to remember. He barely even knew Lily. I bite the inside of my lower lip as I shoot him a tense smile.
My purse audibly buzzes twice as we wait in line, and I’m grateful for the distraction most likely coming from Ian. Except when I check my messages, it’s not; it’s a text from Will.
I need to see you. Nero in ten?
I don’t necessarily want to talk about earlier or tell Will about my meeting with Ian, but I can’t bring myself to refuse. He wants to see me,needsto see me, and I hate the guilt that creeps up when I even consider telling him I’m busy. It’s also the perfect opportunity to avoid a heart to heart with Grant.
I sigh as I turn toward him. “I’m gonna have to cut our impromptu coffee short. Rain check?” I offer with a raised brow. “I totally forgot I was meeting Will. But maybe we can all get food after?”
I’m lying about my forgetfulness, and by the questioning gleam in his eyes, he knows it.
“Sure, Beckett. Remind Will not to suck at practice, will you?”
I laugh, relieved and amused. “If only my words held that power.”
He looks at me over his shoulder as he strolls away, a sad smile settling across his face.Close call.I’m not ready for the flood gates that might buckle under the strain of a conversation about Lily, especially not with someone as sensitive as Grant.
I find a secluded table in the corner by the French doors that lead to the garden and pull out my notebook, willing myself to switch gears. This morning feels long, especially after the hour I spent reading old papers about Ben in the newsroom. I'm in desperate need of a shower after my speed walk to the newsroom in the thick August fog, but if I have to wait for Will here I might as well get a head start on my questions.
Ian’s directive was to dig into the “why” of Ben’s departure. That seems straightforward enough, but it could prove insufficient for a story. I’ll need to generate more context, fill in the gaps of his life right before he left and over the past two years. More importantly, I’ll need to pinpoint why he came back. As much as I’d like this to be a one and done assignment, my journalistic brain is eager to unfold something complex and layered. Maybe he had some sort of injury that led to a mental breakdown? Maybe he spent the past two years meditating in a monastery in Bhutan. Maybe the strain of athletic leadership pushed him to explore life without the pressure of the competitive sports world… I don’t know. Maybe he just left, wanting a gap year. But Ian’s made it my sole purpose to find out.
I’m slipping my notebook back into my bag when I look up and catch Will making small talk with a dancer; I’m pretty sure she’s a freshman, because she’s in a uniform and I haven’t seen her before. She’s tiny, probably reaching just below five feet and her blonde hair reaches her waist. Her eyes glitter with ambition as she flutters her eyelashes at him, a hollow laugh ringing outa little too forcefully. I watch him shift his weight, his hand reaching out to pick an eyelash off her face, and I feel my cheeks burn in frustration.
As if he feels my eyes on him, Will shoots me a subtle smile followed by a conspiratorial eye roll, like that move he just pulled was out of pity, or for my benefit, or something justifiable, and I unwittingly cool off.
I don’t know how he does it— make me doubt him one second and make me feel like the only worthy person in the building the next. Will’s far from perfect, but when I consider the kind of guy I need next to me, he kind of is. Yes, he can pull shit like this, but there are moments where he makes me feel powerful and wanted; it’s what drew me to him in the first place. He’s my most vocal fan and my loudest critic. And I love that about him, for the most part. No one else has ever made me feel the strange twinge of happiness and sadness that creeps into my chest like Will. I believe life is about balance, and I need someone who does that for me. Someone who elevates me and has no qualms about bringing me down a peg when I need it. Even if it feels like shit, sometimes.
Feeling like shit is still better than feeling nothing. I felt nothing for so long after Lily left but Will… he brought me back from that. That has to count for something.
He barely concludes whatever conversation he was having and waltzes to the front of the order line. The mousy girl with the thick wired glasses who’d been about to order says nothing, just giggles when he motions toward the counter and says, “Do you mind?”
A minute later, he places two iced coffees on my table and rotates the chair across from me so the back is to the table’s edge. He sits with his arms crossed on the back of the chair and leans forward, his dark blonde waves falling slightly in his eyes.I suck in the side of my cheeks, the corners of my mouth turning upward into an unwilling smile.
“You’re quite the celebrity today. First the dancer, then the librarian-in-waiting.”
“Hmm. I didn’t notice. I might’ve been too distracted by the smoke show sulking in the corner.” A slight blush creeps up my neck, but I roll my eyes.
“I’m not sure what I dislike the most— that you accused me of sulking or that you used the term ‘smoke show’ to describe me.”
“Who said I was talking about you?” I kick his right leg from under the table.
“Watch it, Chapman,” I say, shaking my head with a grin so deep, I can feel my usually reluctant dimples emerge. He grabs my hand from across the table and runs his thumb along the back of it.
“You know you’re beautiful.” He peers through his lashes at me as if to give the impression that he’s feeling shy, which we both know he isn’t. I raise an appraising eyebrow at him as if to agree. “Does this mean you forgive me?” I’d already forgiven his flirtatiousness, but the groveling is a boon to my freshly injured ego.
