“It’s one of the two things you said you believe in.” I swallow, heart hammering in my ears. “During your lecture.”
“It is.”
“Well,” I say, feeling the weight of this entire week press down on my spine, “I disagree with whatever you were about to say.”
One of his brows lifts. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
I shrug. My mouth twitches before I deepen my voice into a very poor, very grumpy impression. “Coralie, I’m your TA. Everything you say is annoying. If you’re not here for school, leave. I would like to be grumpy in peace.”
A snort escapes him before he can stop it. He stands, rounds the desk slowly, and sits on the edge—right in front of me. Close.
“I donotsound like that.”
“You soundexactlylike that.”
He studies me then, and the air between us tightens as it tends to. The room’s too quiet. My fingers curl behind my back, partly because they’re still damp, partly because they’re shaking. Whether it’s from the rain or him, I couldn’t say.
But he’s right there. And I’m right here.
And I didn’t come all this way to say nothing.
“Listen,” I start, eyes fixed on anything but him now. “We’re both too smart to be this bad at talking. But we’re also too smart not to understand what happens if we don’t.”
His arms cross, the faintest edge of impatience in hisbrow, though his head tilts slightly—curious, not dismissive. I’ve learned to recognize that look.
“Where are you getting to?”
I breathe in through my nose, trying to steady myself. “I know you think I ramble.”
“You do.” He smirks, ever-so-slightly.
“Let me finish.” I level him a look. “You’re right, I do. And yeah, it’s probably annoying. I haven’t exactly mastered the art of filtering my thoughts when it comes to science or… well, anything.”
He doesn’t interrupt this time. I can see him wanting to, feel him holding it back.
“What I’m trying to say is—this thing about me? It doesn’t bother anyone else. Not really. You’re the only person who acts like my voice comes with a warning label. Like I’m the most annoying person in the student body.”
He opens his mouth, and I stop him with a raised hand. I’ve waited long enough to say this. No detours.
“So what is it, Holden? Because I’veseenyou be a normal, functioning human. I’ve seen you smile. I know for a fact you have thirty-two teeth, so why are you hoarding them?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“What?”
“I don’t have wisdom teeth.”
I blink. “Well, that explains a lot.”
His eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”
“Never mind. That’s not the point.”
I look at him fully now—and hate that I do. His gaze is so sharp it pins me in place, makes my skin hum.
“If you can dothat—if you can joke around with Theo, if you can be the sweet uncle, if you can save my pastries and drive me home at night—then why…” My voice falters, my thoughts splinter.
Why can’t you just like me? Talk to me? Be something real?
