“What?No.” My hands pause over the keyboard. “Who even told you that?”
It cannot have been Sumner, can it? I find it hard to believeI’ma topic of their conversation. Not when there’s so much video game discussion to occupy them. Who else would Jared keep in touch with at Ivernia?
“Were you not putting on a show the other day?” he says, avoiding answering.
“That’s your other sister. You may remember her. Tiny and dramatic.”
“Sooo.” Jared raises an eyebrow. “Situationship. Got it.”
I picture explaining what, exactly, a situationship is to William and snort. But then it hits me—is that not what this is? Two people in a unique situation, one that has an expiration date? The thought makes me ache. Because it means William is one more thing I have to lose.
I can’t offer this explanation to my brother, so I change the subject. “You know, I haven’t really heard from Mads.”
He doesn’t seem fazed. “She has her own life,” he says. “And you know how she gets. When she’s moody, she goes into her hermit shell.”
“What about you?”
“My life,” he begins, “is a constant adjustment.”
It’s vague enough to sound avoidant. “But you’re enjoying it? Columbia, I mean?”
“Yeah. Sometimes.” The screen pauses. I figure he’s checking a text. “Other times less so.” His face floods the screen. “I should go.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t expecting him to sign off so soon. “Okay.”
“Text you later.”
And then he’s gone.
I set my phone down, sighing. Over the last few days, William has been extra attentive, and Sumner has been extra avoidant. He’s stopped tossing me stray glances from across the room in history, the teasing glint gone from his eyes. In fact, he dashes out so fast you’d think the reincarnation of Archimedes had stepped through the gates of Ivernia, and I can’t help but think it’s because of me. And William. But it’s an egotistical thought, because why would he care?
He shouldn’t. Not when he made his feelings for me clear just a few months ago.
Since William and I had unintentionally put on a display,word has gotten around. Inessa and Sabine ushered me into Sabine’s room so I could tell them everything. Even Analiese asks me about it over lunch. And I’m honest when I say all of it feels new and exciting, though it doesn’t stop me from worrying about the monumental task we’re facing.
But I don’t want William to go.
It’s purely selfish, so I try to ignore my volatile heartbeat every time he’s near. Every time he smiles or finds me in the commons, every time we eat dinner together or sit by the fireplace drinking tea. We’ve made a habit of strolling along the lake at sunset, the two of us talking until it grows dark. It’s becoming easier to pretend he belongs here.
Except—he doesn’t.
Late at night, when I’m lying in bed, I wonder if I’m getting caught up in it. The forthright romantic notions and honest declarations. I wasn’t intentionally looking for it, but is it not what I deserve? Hell, is it not what everyone deserves? Someone who doesn’t shut down at my affection or push me away without explanation. This is what Ishouldwant.
So I can’t quite explain why my heart sinks when I enter Danforth’s room on Friday and only Lionel and William are inside.
“I hate to tell you this,” Lionel begins, “but we really are stuck without the calculations.”
The three of us are bent over the partial configuration of the isoborometer. We’d been able to construct the protective wall paneling, which will encase the internal mechanics—arguablythe most important part—but he’s not wrong. We can’t go any further.
“Should we ask Danforth about the equations?”
“Already did.” Lionel slumps at the desk next to me. “He said this looks like PhD-level work. I think it’s his way of admitting he didn’t know.”
William straightens. “What if—”
The door flies open. I’m about to tell the person stepping inside that this room is occupied, but then I do a double take. Not because Sumner’s wearing a moss-green sweater that isn’t his usual oversized fit or because his boots look brand-new. No, the biggest shock is his hair. His tornado-like waves have been tidily trimmed on the sides, the fuller length carefully styled on top. A refreshed version of himself. Even his glasses are different, his usual wire frames swapped for a thicker, rectangular shape.
“Whoa,” Lionel remarks. “New glasses?”
