Chapter 20 Orion #2
I reeled as if she’d slapped me. No, as if she’d taken a wrecking ball to a carefully constructed castle and knocked down a wall. Or ten. A castle built to protect me. To keep me safe. That’s locked me in. A prison…
They just throw money at the problem…
“What the hell are you talking about?” I seethed, a sudden deep anger awakening in me. “Just what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“You heard me,” Harper said, holding her ground. “Something isn’t right. And I think you know it. And I think—no, I know—you deserve more help than the pitiful bullshit nothing you’ve been getting.”
“Because you’re a doctor,” I said. “Because you sit next to me in one class and so you’ve made a diagnosis.”
“You can be pissed at me all you want, but I’m just saying what I know in my gut to be true.”
“Oh, you have a gut feeling,” I said, marveling at my ugly tone. The way I was snarling at her, as if this rage boiling up in me had been saving itself for this conversation. “Well, bloody good for you, love. I think I’ll leave you and your gut feeling to it, then. Tell Dash I said goodbye.”
“I will,” she said, her eyes filling now, her lower lip trembling.
I tossed my jacket over my shoulder and stormed out, hating myself for the anguish on her face.
Hating the churn of emotions within me, and for what?
Because she’d made one observation? Why was this tempest boiling up, hateful and angry?
I should stay and try to make it right, but I didn’t trust myself.
Better to leave and calm down. Better to get somewhere alone and wait until the storm subsided back below the deeps.
I drove back to Atlas Hall over mud-choked roads, my hands gripping the steering wheel.
It’s so obvious that something else is going on…
No, the fuck it wasn’t. Nothing was obvious. Harper was just being defensive because I’d been a dick and crossed a line. I’d said something I shouldn’t have, so she’d said something she shouldn’t have. Something completely wrong.
I screeched the car into the Atlas Hall parking garage, threw it into my spot, and trudged to my apartment. Easton was sleeping but woke when I barged in, kicking off my shoes.
“Sorry,” I muttered, stripping back out of my tux shirt and pants.
“Long night?” he mumbled.
“You could say that,” I replied, tearing off my tux jacket. “I believe Harper and I set a new land-speed record for going from potentially perfect to absolute shit to bliss to absolute shit again in a single night.”
“Congratulations,” Easton said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “What happen—”
I hurled one of my dress shoes into the closet with a frustrated grunt.
“Orion?” Easton said into the silence that was broken only by my heavy breathing. “You good, man?”
“No,” I said. “I’m not.”
And I’m pretty sure it was the first honest thing I’d said since I woke up that morning.
***
The next day, I dragged my arse to chem, both dreading and wanting to see Harper. I was a jackass for what I’d said to her but had already dismissed what she’d said in retaliation. It was pure bollocks. We’d had a fight, so what? We could put it behind us and move on. Couples did that all the time.
In class, she arrived and took her seat stiffly beside me. Langford was late. As usual.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hello,” Harper replied coolly, organizing her materials.
“How’s the little man?”
“Fine,” she said. “He’s resilient. He asked about you.” Harper’s voice tightened, and she swallowed. “He wants to know when he’s going to see you again.”
“When is he going to see me again?”
“I don’t know,” she said softly. “I—”
Langford strode in with a big grin on his face.
He held up his briefcase. “I have some NoSci results, and I think I can go ahead and spoil a few of you.” His gaze found Harper and me in front of him.
“Congratulations, Harper and Orion! Your proposals were enough to impress the judges, myself included. You’re both through to round two! ”
The class offered a smattering of applause, though I knew that there were several other students in class who had applied for the Novus Prize and were not included in Langford’s little announcement. My cheeks burned. My pothole project made it through? On merit? Highly bloody unlikely.
“Congratulations,” Harper whispered with sincerity.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered back. “I didn’t mean…”
My words died at her incredulous stare.
“What the hell did I do wrong now?”
But the answer would have to wait until after class, when I chased her out into the hallway.
“Well?”
“Why are you apologizing for making it to the next round?” she asked as students passed around us in the crowded hall. “Jesus, Orion, can you stop feeling sorry for me for one second?”
“I don’t…” I stammered. “My project is shit. Or I thought it was.”
Harper crossed her arms. “So you’re apologizing because you think you’re going to win based on your name alone.”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t understand why you’re pissed at me. Again. I want you to win—”
“I want to win too,” she said. “But I want to win fair and square. If you work harder or your idea is amazing or it’s just plain better, then you deserve the prize.
Same goes for anyone else. And if that’s the case, then I’ll be bummed—devastated, even—but I’ll take my loss like a woman.
But if I lose because your name is on a wall around here, or if I win because you sabotage your project, or you quit, then that’s bullshit.
Because what most rich people fail to understand is that us little people don’t want handouts or charity or favors.
We’ve only ever wanted one thing and one thing only. ”
“Which is?”
“A fair shot.”
I stood there like a dope, not knowing what to say. Because my name was on one wing of the Athletic Hall, and I was trying to sabotage my project, and I should be disqualified for accepting outside help in the first place.
I’m a trifecta of dishonor.
The bell rang.
Harper’s shoulders sagged. “I have to go,” she said, and started to turn away.
“Well, wait.” I reached for her arm but pulled back. “What about…us?”
“I don’t know,” she said softly, hugging her bag to her chest, her eyes filling. “Maybe we’re just too different to make this work.”
“Are we?”
“Aren’t we?” she countered.
“I think that’s up to us to decide. Besides,” I said, offering a small smile. “You never got your date. You deserve a proper date.”
Harper shifted her weight, glancing around. A tear spilled over, and she quickly wiped it away with her shoulder. “Orion…”
“What can I do, Harper? Just tell me and I’ll do it.”
“I don’t want you to do anything, except be—”
Second bell rang, and she flinched.
“Now I’m late. To history. And you are too.” She shouldered her bag. “I need to get through this week until my mother comes back. Then maybe we can talk, okay?”
And then she hurried down the hall.
I followed after, lead weights dragging my feet, feeling as if I were going to my execution instead of class.
I can’t do this anymore.
My new mantra in a school that did accept failure, but expected nothing but perfection.