Chapter 17 #2
I just never expected to hear from them again.
I’d landed the initial interview through Dylan McCarthy Williams, my roommate, way back when we weren’t even fully through with finals.
That was followed by two more rounds with different people, an assessment center and another interview.
I’d assumed they kept calling me in as some kind of favor to McCarthy’s uncle, high up.
Ultimately, though, that’s all it was. I hadn’t thought about that job in over a month. And anyway, I didn’t really want it.
I was doing the whole grad-school thing, captaining the soccer team, the way Alison would’ve wanted me to. That had been the plan.
Just thinking about derailing that—her wishes for me, and what she thought my future would look like—felt so wrong, like such an incredibly deep betrayal, I wished I’d never applied in the first place.
Pete’s email came thirty minutes later.
Dear Mr. Callahan,
On behalf of Anova Inc., I am pleased to offer you the exempt position of Entry Level Software Engineer, located at our offices in Boston, MA, starting October 1.
A salary of one-hundred-and-sixty-thousand dollars. Health Insurance. Retirement plan. Fifteen vacation days.
I skimmed through the offer and benefits attached, like I might actually be considering this. Just to let myself imagine, for a second, before the guilt crept in again.
Then, I sent an email back, thanking them profusely, before declining.
For the rest of the day, I was in no mood to celebrate.
When everyone suggested going out for dinner and drinks to their local bar, I outright wanted to refuse.
If I didn’t go, though, I wouldn’t be able to see if Valentina let her little phone conversation from this morning slip. Just to be petty. Just to piss me off.
So, I went. Sat on the terrace of some place called Blitz, and watched the sun set over the ocean, pretending to care about what they were talking about. I thought I’d been listening with one ear, but when Mike kicked my shin under the table, I realized I must’ve just tuned out completely.
Huh? I asked, blinking at him. Thankfully, the rest of the group was busy with another topic altogether and hadn’t noticed my lack of attention.
What’s up with you today? he hissed across the table— voice, for once, low enough not to be noticed.
Is this about this morning? I didn’t mean to be harsh, man.
But I know you can be better than you have been.
I’ve seen you be better. I just want you to get that spark back by the time you’re at HBU again.
He was talking about soccer, of course. When was he not? It seemed easiest just to agree, so I nodded, somewhat solemnly.
I know. I get it. I don’t know what’s been up my ass lately— I lied. I knew exactly what it was.
That ever-growing awareness that I wasn’t doing this because I wanted to do it.
That I was trying to make someone proud who’d been dead for seven whole years.
That I’d applied to jobs and considered other possibilities, but couldn’t go through with any of them in the end.
That, in a year, I’d be twenty-four, and I’d still be at HBU, and nothing will have changed.
The fear that I was missing out on an entire life because I needed to live this one for me and my sister.
Mike’s foot gave mine a sympathetic nudge below the table. Don’t worry, man. You’ll get back into it.
I smiled. Or tried to, at least. Then tried not to drift off again, if only not to cause any more suspicion. My attention latched back onto the rest of the group, just as Iris guffawed across the table—maybe the entire bar, with how loud she was—and Valentina was getting up.
Wait, why was she getting up?
What’s going on? I asked, faking a laugh to fit in.
My gaze trailed after Valentina, eyes fixed on the way her cherry-red hair swayed with each step, and trying not to focus on how her ass did, too.
Then, trying to outright ignore the reminder of how she’d felt underneath me yesterday—how she’d tasted.
Fuck. I cleared my throat.
You see that guy? Alfie asked, a conspiratorial smile on his lips. His words were hushed, like he might not want anyone else to hear them, but he pointed toward the bar like he couldn’t care less who might see.
Through the wide-open French doors, we had the perfect view of a guy. The guy, probably. Must’ve been somewhere in his mid-twenties, blond, floppy hair. Tan skin, no shirt. And Valentina was approaching him.
Yes, I said, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t like where this was going.
Obsessed with Valentina! Alfie blurted, like he loved saying it. They hook up all the time. Honestly, I’m surprised it’s been a week and she hasn’t seen him yet.
Usually, Iris agreed. He’s the first number she texts whenever we’re here. We had to keep her from doing so the second she got here—that’s just desperate.
It’s, like, this summer romance straight out of a movie. Every time we’re here, even when it’s not summer, Alfie swooned. I swear. I don’t know how she can just go back home and not take the guy with her. I’d have kidnapped him by now. That’s not an exaggeration.
My eyes flicked back to him. By the time Valentina was by his side—and she tapped his shoulder shyly, and I watched him turn, and his eyes widen, and embrace her in a whirlwind hug that lifted her feet off the ground—the fake smile I’d put on was gone.
Replaced by a tight frown. Tight enough, it might already have been a grimace.
The feeling settling in the pit of my stomach was unfamiliar, but it intensified when he set her down, and I could see her lips crack into a wide, carefree laugh.
Maybe you’ll finally have your room to yourself tonight. She usually stays over at Finnick’s place.
Embarrassingly enough, I wasn’t even sure who’d said that. By the time it could have registered, I was already halfway to the bar.