I thought I wanted answers. But I think what I really want is agency. And those aren’t the same thing.
I take one step forward. “What do you feel for me?”
He freezes, like I’ve cracked something open in him by accident. His hand tightens on the desk. “Feelings are not—nor should they be—involved in this.”
Right. Of course. How many times have I told myself the same thing?
“Easy for you to say,” I reply, sharper than I mean to.
He flinches at that, and suddenly I see it—something raw and unsure in his expression. “You think this iseasyfor me?”
“I know it is.” My voice shakes but I push through. “Because if you won’t say it, I will.”
“Coralie, don’t?—”
“Let me talk, for once, Holden!” My voice lifts just enough to fill the space between us. I force myself not to flinch at the sound of it or apologize for taking space.
“You’re not the one here on a scholarship because it’s the only way you could afford to be. You didn’t come here planning to keep your head down and your grades up and nothing else.”
He goes still. No snide remarks now. Noumbrella trivia.
“I told myself I wouldn’t get distracted. I told myself I couldn’t afford to be. But thenyouhappened. And you make it so hard. And you don’t even notice.”
His silence is a weight pressing in on every part of me. It’s full of everything he won’t say.
“So yeah, it’s easier for you,” I say. “Because you’re not the one who has to wonder every day what your TA thinks of you. You’re not the one guessing which version of you is going to show up—kind, cold, silent. You’re not the one holding your breath every time you walk into a room.”
My throat tightens.
“You have a girlfriend. You have the world at your feet. And me?” I gesture to myself like I’m some open wound. “Every time we talk, I leave more confused than I came. And you… never seem confused at all.”
His mouth parts slightly. Holden Wilkes, speechless—for all of three seconds. The shock fades fast, replaced by something colder, darker, akin to anger.
“First,” he says, voice low and tight through twenty-eight gritted teeth, “let’s make one thing very fucking clear—Idon’thave a girlfriend.”
I want to mention Summer’s manicured hand on his chest, the way she purrs his name like it belongs to her. But he doesn’t give me the chance.
“We ended things over a year ago,” he says. “I don’t know why she’s resurfacing now, but I’m sure as hell not interested. Haven’t been.”
A part of me wants to believe him—God,doesbelieve him—and maybe that part is a little too thrilled. But the rest of me? The partthat’s been trying to make sense of his distance, his mixed signals? That part doesn’t know what to do with this.
“Second,” he pushes off the desk and closes the space between us. “You shouldn’t entertain any thoughts or feelings youthinkyou might have for me.” He swallows once, hard. “Or for any other TA, while we’re at it.”
“I—what?”
“You said it yourself,” he says, tone rising—not loud, but sharper than I’ve ever heard from him. “You’re here to study. To do the work. So do it. Focus. Leave the feelings at the door.”
His words hit harder than they should. Like the rain hadn’t already soaked me through, like I wasn’t already shivering from the inside out.
“What about the tide pools near your house?” I ask, because he said he’d take me, and I thought that meant something.
He’s silent for a beat, then exhales and looks down. “I shouldn’t have offered,” he says. “Whatever you’re thinking, please, for both our sakes, let it go.”
“I don’tthinkI have feelings, Holden. I do.” He closes his eyes when I say his name, like it hurts to hear it from my mouth.
“I don’t have a name for them, not exactly. But they’re there. And you’re asking me to just—turn it off? Shove it somewhere and forget it exists? What about you?”
My voice wavers now, and I hate it. “You’re brilliant. Not just smart, butbeyond. So is this what you do? With things you don’t want to feel? Just—ignore them? Lock them up andwalk away?”
