“Are you listening to me?”
We’re finally in Rome together. The hundreds of hours I spent researching scholarships paired with the thousands of hours Colton spent waiting tables paid off, and I’ve been so happy to spend months introducing my best friend to the city that captured his imagination. But he’s spent the entire semester with his nose buried in these books.
He sighs and sets down his pen, looking up at me. “I’m listening. What’s up?”
I know he’s excited about his research, but he’s been so focused we’ve barely seen each other. I miss my best friend.
I spent a lot of time recently with our study abroad coordinator, Roxanne, helping with the organizational stuff for our trip.It’s so much fun, and this is the first big thing she let me take over.
I explain that to Colton and try not to get frustrated when his eyes flick back to his notebook.
His eyebrows pull together. “How does that relate to ancient Rome?”
My whole body shakes with my frustration as I let out a loud groan. “Not everything has to be about work. We’re allowed to do other things.”
“That’s great, Quinn. Have fun.” He turns back to his work, dismissing me.
“‘Have fun’ as in, you aren’t coming?”
“No, we have a couple weeks until the end of term, I need to finish this paper, and you already roped me into Ischia next weekend. I don’t have time for this, too.”
“One day trip won’t kill you. Your work is amazing.”
“It’s not where I want it.”
Heat blisters under my skin. I get that he’s passionate about his work, but this is important to me, and he’s dismissing it like it’s nothing. “Oh. I’m sorry. I forgot how much more important all these dead people are than your actual friends.”
He lets out a pessimistic laugh and turns back to me. “You want me to blow off my work to run around Italy with you? I need to get this right if I’m going to have a future in this field.”
I roll my eyes. He’s so dramatic. I’ve read his work, and Dr. Cassia’s going to fall all over herself to praise him when the time comes. “And one day’s going to be the difference?”
He stands and starts pacing the room. “I don’t know, but I’m not taking that risk for anything. Even you. Maybe you should spend a little more time on your work, too.”
“I’m not worried about my work. IknowI’m going to be successful.”
He explodes, his anger wafting off him in waves. “Of courseyou do. You have the money and the connections and everyone believes in you. Some of us have to work for our place in life.”
I feel his words across my face like a slap. “You think I don’t deserve my success?”
“I didn’t say that. But Idothink you’re so used to being told this’ll be your life that you don’t stress about it.”
“Or maybe,” I say, fighting between tears and fury, “you’re taking it out on me because you’re afraid you don’t have what it takes.”
I pushed it too far, not to mention the fact that it’s a complete and total lie. He’s so much better at this than me. His words hit too close to home, and instead of reflecting on his fair assessment, I lashed out.
He breathes deeply through his nose. “Fuck off, Quinn.”
He turns back to his books without another glance. My stomach clenches as tears flooded my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t have time for this.” He flips another page without looking up. It’s a dismissal, the proverbial door slamming in my face.
“Talk to me,” I say.
“No.”
I walk over and slam his book closed, and I see him flinch at my treatment of his beloved text. “Yes. I’m not leaving here until we deal with this.”
“Why?” He sounds exhausted, and I suddenly wondered if I’ve missed the signs of his stress and fear while I was running around Italy like this is an extended vacation. He’d been terrified about changing his major, that he wouldn’t be able to get a good job and support his family. I’d figured those fears had gone away when he aced class after class, but I was letting my own background and resources affect the way I look at the situation. He’s scared, and I was too distracted by my own fun to support him.
