Chapter 27
“So you have a boyfriend?”
It’s Thursday night and I’m in my room FaceTiming Jared, who called me as I was emailing virtual save-the-dates to gala attendees.
“What? No.” My hands pause over the keyboard. “Who even told you that?”
It cannot have been Sumner, can it? I find it hard to believe I’m a topic of their conversation. Not when there’s so much video game discussion to occupy them. Who else would Jared keep in touch with at Ivernia?
“Were you not putting on a show the other day?” he says, avoiding answering.
“That’s your other sister. You may remember her. Tiny and dramatic.”
“Sooo.” Jared raises an eyebrow. “Situationship. Got it.”
I picture explaining what, exactly, a situationship is to William and snort. But then it hits me—is that not what this is? Two people in a unique situation, one that has an expiration date? The thought makes me ache. Because it means William is one more thing I have to lose.
I can’t offer this explanation to my brother, so I change the subject. “You know, I haven’t really heard from Mads.”
He doesn’t seem fazed. “She has her own life,” he says. “And you know how she gets. When she’s moody, she goes into her hermit shell.”
“What about you?”
“My life,” he begins, “is a constant adjustment.”
It’s vague enough to sound avoidant. “But you’re enjoying it? Columbia, I mean?”
“Yeah. Sometimes.” The screen pauses. I figure he’s checking a text. “Other times less so.” His face floods the screen. “I should go.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t expecting him to sign off so soon. “Okay.”
“Text you later.”
And then he’s gone.
I set my phone down, sighing. Over the last few days, William has been extra attentive, and Sumner has been extra avoidant.
He’s stopped tossing me stray glances from across the room in history, the teasing glint gone from his eyes.
In fact, he dashes out so fast you’d think the reincarnation of Archimedes had stepped through the gates of Ivernia, and I can’t help but think it’s because of me.
And William. But it’s an egotistical thought, because why would he care?
He shouldn’t. Not when he made his feelings for me clear just a few months ago.
Since William and I had unintentionally put on a display, word has gotten around.
Inessa and Sabine ushered me into Sabine’s room so I could tell them everything.
Even Analiese asks me about it over lunch.
And I’m honest when I say all of it feels new and exciting, though it doesn’t stop me from worrying about the monumental task we’re facing.
But I don’t want William to go.
It’s purely selfish, so I try to ignore my volatile heartbeat every time he’s near.
Every time he smiles or finds me in the commons, every time we eat dinner together or sit by the fireplace drinking tea.
We’ve made a habit of strolling along the lake at sunset, the two of us talking until it grows dark.
It’s becoming easier to pretend he belongs here.
Except—he doesn’t.
Late at night, when I’m lying in bed, I wonder if I’m getting caught up in it.
The forthright romantic notions and honest declarations.
I wasn’t intentionally looking for it, but is it not what I deserve?
Hell, is it not what everyone deserves? Someone who doesn’t shut down at my affection or push me away without explanation. This is what I should want.
So I can’t quite explain why my heart sinks when I enter Danforth’s room on Friday and only Lionel and William are inside.
“I hate to tell you this,” Lionel begins, “but we really are stuck without the calculations.”
The three of us are bent over the partial configuration of the isoborometer. We’d been able to construct the protective wall paneling, which will encase the internal mechanics—arguably the most important part—but he’s not wrong. We can’t go any further.
“Should we ask Danforth about the equations?”
“Already did.” Lionel slumps at the desk next to me. “He said this looks like PhD-level work. I think it’s his way of admitting he didn’t know.”
William straightens. “What if—”
The door flies open. I’m about to tell the person stepping inside that this room is occupied, but then I do a double take.
Not because Sumner’s wearing a moss-green sweater that isn’t his usual oversized fit or because his boots look brand-new.
No, the biggest shock is his hair. His tornado-like waves have been tidily trimmed on the sides, the fuller length carefully styled on top.
A refreshed version of himself. Even his glasses are different, his usual wire frames swapped for a thicker, rectangular shape.
“Whoa,” Lionel remarks. “New glasses?”
“Backup.” His gaze cuts to his jacket folded on his arm, as if embarrassed by the attention. “Finally getting the other pair fixed.”
William’s smiling. “Pulchritudinous.”
Lionel cocks his head, bewildered. “Bless you?”
“You look resplendent,” William amends.
Then, perhaps for the first time all week, Sumner’s eyes meet mine. A longing nostalgia threatens to bring up old feelings. I stuff it down, refusing to entertain it.
He does look good, not to say he didn’t before. More refined. His ego is large enough without me inflating it, so I flick my eyes down to the issue at hand.
“We need more information before we can finish,” I offer curtly.
He pads across the room to join us, close enough for me to track clean shampoo and undertones of spicy-honeyed warmth. Then his arms fold across his chest. “The encasing should be an inch thicker.”
My eyes snap to his. “What?”
“I mean”—there’s a slight twinge of annoyance in his cadence—“these measurements look off.”
That can’t be true.
Lionel’s already pulled up next to his laptop, so I bend over my father’s journal.
When I cross-reference my dad’s calculations with the numbers published in the academic article, I see the mistake.
My dad moved a decimal when estimating what we’d need for the foundation, and Sumner was working off his ideas.
Lionel presses his lips together as he realizes this too.
A flush of aggravated embarrassment warms my skin.
It’s my fault.
The most irritating part of all? Sumner’s dying for me to admit he’s right.
He warned me about getting ahead of myself and I hadn’t listened, wasting materials and time.
We’ve been in over our heads from the beginning.
The odds of succeeding aren’t great. If others hadn’t been able to lay the groundwork, what chance do we have?
“Maybe we move to our backup plan,” I suggest.
“Not this,” Sumner groans, collapsing into an empty chair.
Lionel moves his hands away from the keyboard. “There’s a backup plan?”
“Well—sort of.” My gaze snags on William’s. “We both made similar wishes that night. I think they tethered together somehow to bring him here, so maybe that’s the key to reversing this.”
The radiator clicks over our silence. Doubt creeps across Lionel’s face. Sumner releases a long, intentional sigh. William, at the very least, gives me an encouraging nod.
“Have you…tried?” Lionel says uncertainly.
“No,” I admit. “But I think it’s possible.”
Lionel closes his laptop, smoothing his hands over the surface. He won’t make eye contact. Neither will Sumner, who begins to tug at the back of his hair, quickly realizing that the length he’s seeking isn’t there. He palms his neck instead.
I can’t take it anymore. “What?”
“I have so many logical theories capable of disproving this,” Sumner finally says, “but I won’t waste my breath.”
“So don’t.” The testiness in my voice is clear. “Wishing him back is our answer.”
It comes out colder than I intend, and he instantly shuts down. Remorse snakes through me.
“Fine,” he says. “Guess you should spend your free time beefing up your GPA anyway, if you think you can manage.”
I hoped he hadn’t noticed, but of course he did.
While his ranking’s remained unwavering at twenty, mine has fallen.
Twenty-two. It hasn’t been that low since sophomore year.
I told myself it wasn’t a big deal, even though disappointment sank like a stone in my gut after I’d checked the portal.
Last year I’d managed to secure spot twenty for a full semester. And now—
My eyes flit to William. I’ve been preoccupied.
“I can manage just fine.”
“Hold on.” Lionel jumps to his feet. “Maybe we test Delaney’s wish theory and if it doesn’t work, we come back to this?”
“Or perhaps,” William interjects, “I stay. If our attempts are not achievable, that is.”
We fall silent. What if he stayed? Really, would it be so bad? He’d get to live out his life on his own terms, though it’d come with a huge sacrifice. And if he did remain here, what would it mean for the two of us?
Sumner’s gaze darkens. And then he stands, pulling on his jacket.
I throw my hands up. “Where are you going?”
He tugs a beanie over his tamed waves. “To hang with Hailey, since we’re clearly done here.” He throws a second glance my way as he heads toward the door. “Unless that’s a problem?”
My face burns. “Why would it be?”
But he doesn’t answer, doesn’t even say goodbye as he pushes his way out the door.