Chapter 15 Orion
Orion
We expect great things from you.
Langford’s smile had been kinder, brighter than Father’s but no less weighted. Pressurized. And Harper beside me…Jesus, could I have fucked that up any harder?
Let’s call it a day, shall we?
I’d left chemistry—and the CHA campus entirely—with all sorts of shame tailing me. Shame for my tantrum in chemistry and because Harper didn’t know about Father’s manila envelope, but so what? Still made me a prick.
“Bare minimum,” I muttered as I keyed into my apartment in Atlas Hall. “I’ll do the barest bloody minimum for that contest.”
A silly vow to make, since the barest minimum was all I was capable of anyway.
I was failing most of my classes, and the skipped classes today would only add to the load. So I sat on the couch in the living area, laptop in my lap, and struggled over the school work, trying to use the hours to get ahead. By dinner, I had a raging headache.
At eight p.m., a text came in from Tucker.
You choked Brent?! WTF? That’s hilarious.
It was followed by a bunch of laughing emoji. I put my phone on mute and turned it face down. The Mesopotamia essay for history wasn’t going to write itself, but Christ in a sidecar…
My gaze landed on the orange pill bottle. It might work this time, new prescription and all. Fuck me sideways, things couldn’t get worse.
I poured myself a glass of water and popped a little white pill.
Back at the couch, I waited for the magic to happen. For the words on the pages to resolve themselves into cohesion. For my brain to stop trying to run away from the mess and just read without me having to jump through hoops to build meaning.
Not for the first time—not by a bloody mile—I wondered if someone, somewhere had gotten it wrong.
I knew people who had ADHD. Their meds worked brilliantly without any random, heart-exploding reactions, and they lived their lives.
What the fuck was wrong with me? But whenever I’d brought it up, Mum and Father insisted the doctors knew what they were doing.
My intelligence and keen aptitude were “proof” that if only I’d get my shit together and apply myself, I’d be just fine.
“If I apply myself any harder, I’m going to have a stroke.”
Or a heart attack.
My heart had began to pound in my chest like a hammer, as if it were trying to break free of my ribs. I suddenly felt both hot and cold at the same time, shivering while breaking out into a sweat.
“No, no, no, bloody hell, not again.”
My chest grew tight, and a band of pain wrapped around it, while a sliver of fear worked its way into my thoughts. I’d joked about cardiac arrests and heart attacks but what if…?
“No,” I said to the empty room. “I’m fine.”
But my breath was coming in short gasps that I could barely get past my throat. Slowly, carefully, I lay down on the couch, willing my heart to slow down. To relax.
Call someone, you bloody fool, before you croak, and Easton comes home to a corpse.
But the idea of sirens, EMTs flooding the halls, me being wheeled out on a stretcher… The whispering and gossip, the negative press, the spectacle of it all. And for what? A bad reaction. Mum and Father would hate that. Embarrassment to the family. So much boat rocking…
I breathed, lay still, sipped water, though each minor movement sent my pulse skyrocketing. Around nine thirty p.m., just when I considered reaching for my phone, the reaction began to subside. Incrementally. I took my pulse and found it to be a cool 170.
“Progress,” I croaked.
Ten more hours flat on my back and I’d be right as rain.
A knock came at the door.
Shit.
“Orion?”
Harper.
My eyes fell shut with surprising gladness. Happiness. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this. Didn’t want to worry her, especially, and Harper Bennett was going to insist I get help. But a small voice from way down in the deeps was calling. Begging for help. To be heard and seen, and this girl…
“It’s open,” I called, trying to sound normal. Cheerful, even. My voice betrayed me; I sounded like I’d been gargling rocks and washing them down with battery acid.
Harper came in, an expression of concern already on her face that morphed into alarm when she saw me.
“That good, eh?”
She rushed to kneel beside me. “What happened?”
I nodded at the pill bottle on the coffee table. “I tried…” But my throat went dry before I could finish my sentence, and Harper’s eyes filled with the worst thoughts.
She grabbed the bottle. “How many did you take?”
I shook my head weakly. “No, no. Just one. Bad reaction. I’m okay.”
Harper ignored that and put two fingers to my neck.
“Your pulse is racing. I’m calling an ambulance.”
“Please, don’t,” I said, as she fished around in her bag for her phone. “Really.”
“I have to. You need help.”
“No…I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” she cried. “You’re having a heart attack. Where the fuck is my phone?”
I gripped her wrist. Not hard, but enough to make her stop. “I’m fine. I’ve had this before.” I took her hand and rested it over my chest. Over my heart. “Feel. See? It’s slowing.”
She held still, feeling my pulse that was calming down. My breaths were coming easier—thank God, or this girl was going to throw me over her shoulder and walk all the way to Newport Medical.
Harper shook her head. “I don’t know…”
“I do,” I said. “This always happens when I take these fucking meds. They don’t work on this bloody broken brain of mine. I should’ve known better than to try.”
“I still think I should call someone. What if…?”
I shook my head from side to side, smiling. “The EMTs will arrive for nothing. They’ll say they’ve never seen anyone in better health than me. I’d both ruin and make their night.”
Harper sat back on her heels, her eyes falling shut. Tears escaped, rolling down her cheeks.
“Aw, love.” I touched a fingertip to her cheek. “Are these for me?”
“Some.” She wiped her tears with the heel of her hand and huffed a watery breath. “You. Are. Infuriating.”
“I’m fine. Promise. But I’m dying for a fresh glass of water.”
Harper swatted my arm.
“Too soon?”
She shot me a dirty look and got to her feet. She refilled my glass from the small kitchen. I pushed myself up to sitting, slowly. My pulse kicked up a notch with the small movement, but Harper didn’t need to know that.
“My hero,” I said, taking the water gratefully.
“I still think I should call someone and have you checked out.”
“You can check me out. Any time.”
She tilted her head, giving me my favorite glare. Like she couldn’t decide if she was going to kill me or kiss me.
“That was weak,” I admitted. “But it’s the best I could do, under the circumstances.”
She sat beside me on the couch. “Why did you take that stuff if you knew it was going to give you a bad reaction?”
“New prescription from my father. Thought they might be different. And because I’m so bloody tired of muscling through.”
“Because you have no help. When was the last time you were evaluated—”
I shook my head. “Not tonight, please. I’m exhausted. But I’m happy. Because you’re here.”
“Don’t sweet-talk me. You scared me to death. But you do look better, though that’s not saying much.”
“There she is,” I said softly.
“Come on. You should get to bed. The girl at the desk said I have until eleven to finish my business and get out before curfew.”
“You have business?”
She nodded.
“Don’t like the sound of that.”
Harper’s lovely face was still drawn with tension, her eyes shadowed, and a sadness lurked in their brown depths. A deep grief that had nothing to do with me.
Slowly, I got off the couch. Harper hovered near me but didn’t touch me. Not a good sign. In my room, she took in the two full-sized beds, one to each side of the spacious room: two desks, two dressers, two closets.
“Your dorm bedroom is bigger than mine,” she said. “Where is your roommate?”
“Easton? He’ll be along shortly. He’s a vampire. He can stay up and keep an eye on me, if it makes you feel better.”
“None of this makes me feel better,” she said while I rummaged in my dresser.
“It’s like I said,” I said, finding a pair of sleep pants and a T-shirt. I went to the adjoining bathroom, leaving the door open. “Different pill, same shitey reaction.”
I changed into a white V-neck shirt and plaid sleep pants. When I reemerged, I didn’t miss how Harper’s eyes widened slightly, and her pale cheeks—more pale tonight—took on some color. I’d been given a hundred flattering glances, but somehow only hers meant anything to me.
“I’ve dressed on my own, see? Although, now I’m thinking I should’ve played this up more.” I wagged my eyebrows. “Might’ve gotten a sponge bath out of it.”
“In your dreams.” She pointed at my bed. “Get.”
“I’ll never tire of you bossing me around.”
“Someone needs to. What if you were in real danger?”
“But I wasn’t.”
“But what if you were?”
That was a good question, and if I wasn’t so consumed with Harper, I might consider why I’d risked my life rather than embarrass my parents by making a fuss.
Another time.
I climbed into bed, and Harper pulled the covers over me. I settled myself on the pillow, every part of me wanting to reach for her, to pull her under the covers too, and hold her tight. To protect her from whatever pain was hanging over her like a shroud.
But she stood apart, arms crossed, looking as if she were on the edge.
“Hey,” I said. “Come here.”
Harper shook her head. “I can’t, Orion. It’s why I’m here. To tell you I can’t.”
And of all the danger my heart might’ve been in that night, that hurt the most.
“I suspected as much. At least sit. Tell me.”
Harper hesitated, then sat on the edge of the bed. She inhaled a deep, steadying breath. Fortifying herself. Mustering her strength and will…she had so much of both. But I hated that she constantly had to draw on them, again and again.
“What happened?”
“It’s my mother. God, it’s so fucking…” She bit off her words, eyes shining. “I can’t believe I have to do this again. I cannot fucking believe I have to do this again.” She looked down, then at me. “She started back up with the drinking.”
“Oh fuck. Oh shit, Harper, I’m so sorry.”