Chapter 9
TARA
Becky has turned out to be a great co-worker and we’re usually on the same shifts, and James is always offering to help me out if I’m stuck with anything.
I found myself looking forward to Tuesday, to seeing Alfie again. I’m rambling about fossils again, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s sketching something in a small notebook, though he closes it quickly when I try to peek.
I sigh and my stomach rumbles. I should have got a muffin from CC’s. They looked so good.
“You know what’s funny?” I say, picking at the grass. “Everyone assumes because I’m good at environmental science, I should want to be a researcher or go into academia.”
He looks up, catching something in my tone. “But you don’t?”
“I mean, I love the science. But...” I trail off, suddenly self-conscious. “It’s stupid.”
“Try me.”
“When I was twelve, my parents took us to London. Some academic conference they were speaking at. They’d just got back together after a weird break for a few years,” I smile at the memory.
Mom and Dad being back together made me so happy; we were a family again.
Looking back now, realizing that Dad had been cheating the whole time makes me want to kick and scream.
“Anyway, they stuck Troy and me in the Natural History Museum for the day, probably hoping we’d stay quiet and not embarrass them. ”
“Let me guess - you caused chaos instead? Troy tried to steal an ancient artifact?”
“Actually, no. I just... fell in love.” The words come easier now.
“There was this guide, this amazing woman who made everything come alive. She had all these kids absolutely spellbound, teaching them about dinosaurs and evolution and the Earth’s history.
And I remember thinking - that’s it. That’s what I want to do. ”
Alfie’s watching me intently now, his sketching forgotten. “Teaching?”
“I want to work in museum education.” I gather my courage. “Not just research or curation - actually teaching kids. Showing them how science is full of mysteries waiting to be solved.” I let out a breath. “My parents think it’s a waste. That I should be pursuing a PhD, doing something like Alex.”
“Alex?”
“She’s at that incredible internship, working on climate policy. Making real change.” I twist a loose thread on my shorts. “And I just want to be the person who shows a kid their first fossil. Makes them fall in love with science the way I did in London.”
“At the Natural History Museum?” His voice is careful, like he’s piecing something together.
“Their education program is incredible. But it’s not exactly the prestigious career path everyone expects from me.”
“Since when do you care about what everyone expects?”
The question hits harder than it should. Because he’s right - I’m Tara freakin’ Hawkins. When did I start doubting that was enough?
When you realized you’d been lied to most your life, a small voice whispers.
“Speaking of London,” I say, needing to move past this feeling. “They have this amazing kunzite stone in their geology section. Did you know about it?”
He shrugs.
“A little. It’s a type of pyroxene; it’s all the rage at the moment because it contains lithium in it which everyone wants for electric cars and stuff.”
“Yes, that’s right.” I find myself gushing, hands moving animatedly as the excitement takes over.
“Anyway, they had this perfect pink stone that took years to cut. The color actually comes from manganese impurities in the crystal structure, which technically makes it a flaw, or an impurity but I think that’s the wrong perspective, you know? ”
Alfie’s pencil stills on his sketchbook. He has that look he sometimes gets - like he’s solving a complex equation in his head.
“How so?”
“Well, if you think about it - without those impurities, it would just be another stone. It would be like a pale green color. But those ‘flaws’ are what create something unique and beautiful.” I catch myself getting philosophical about minerals and feel my cheeks heat.
Here I am, probably boring him to death with gemstone metaphors when he’s trying to sketch.
“Sorry, I’m probably reading too much into it. ”
He’s quiet for so long I start fidgeting with loose grass stems, creating little piles beside me. When I sneak a glance at him, he’s watching me with an intensity that makes my stomach flip.
“You do that a lot,” he says finally.
“Talk too much about rocks?”
“Find beauty in things most people overlook.” His voice is soft but certain. “See past the surface to what makes something special. Even if it’s not perfect. Maybe especially then.”
“Oh.” My heart does a complicated little dance. Because the way he says it - like he’s been paying attention not just to my words but to me - makes me feel so utterly seen.
A few days later, the late afternoon sun beats down as I collect trash near the science building, trying not to stare at Alfie.
He’s been checking his phone every few minutes, tension visible in the set of his shoulders.
He’s been like this all week, ever since he told me about his brother coming to town.
The days have crept up and now they’re arriving in three days.
When it buzzes again, he practically flinches.
Apart from our conversation about museum education the other day, we’ve been very professional with one another. Well, Alfie’s been professional with me, I have basically been myself.
“For god’s sake,” he mutters, rejecting the call.
“Everything okay?” I ask casually, even though I’ve been watching him get progressively more agitated for the past hour.
“Fine.” His voice is clipped. The phone buzzes again and this time he answers, turning away. “Mother, I told you—”
I pretend to be very interested in a discarded coffee cup, but his voice carries.
“The Portugal trip isn’t—” He pushes his hair back. “No, I’m not being difficult.”
A longer pause. His fingers tighten around the phone.
“What do you mean you’ve already told the Bollingdons?” The edge in his tone makes me straighten. I’ve never heard Alfie sound like this – something between fury and desperation. “That wasn’t your decision to make.”
He paces a tight circle, his free hand clenched at his side. “I am well aware of your position.”
Whatever his mother says next makes him go completely still. When he speaks again, his voice is so quiet I have to strain to hear.
“Don’t. Don’t threaten me with Grandpa’s research funding.” He swallows hard. “You can’t just arrange people’s lives to be whatever you want.”
Another pause. His face goes carefully blank in a way I’m starting to recognize is him shutting down.
“Fine,” he says finally. “Yes. I understand.” He ends the call and just stands there, staring at nothing.
I should say something. Should probably pretend I didn’t just witness that whole exchange.
“Hey,” I say softly. “Want to take a break? I think there’s still some of that fancy coffee left in the lab.”
He looks at me like he’d forgotten I was there. For a moment, I think he’ll brush me off with his usual “I’m fine.” Instead, his shoulders drop slightly.
“Yeah,” he says, so quietly I almost miss it. “That would be... yeah.”
As I lead the way to the lab, my mind races. I’ve never seen Alfie like this, his careful control is cracking around the edges. I think about the little I know about his family. I know he’s from some rich family down south, but as far as I’m aware, that’s about as much as any of us know.
Maybe that’s why, twenty minutes later, watching him stare into his coffee like it might hold answers, I find myself saying, “I could help, you know.”
“What?”
I’d be offended by his shock if I wasn’t equally stunned by my own suggestion. Maybe it’s because the apartment is too quiet with Alex gone, or because I keep checking my phone for texts from Troy or anyone.
“With your family situation. The whole”—I wave my hand vaguely—“marriage thing.”
He looks up sharply. “You were listening.”
“Kind of hard not to.” I meet his gaze steadily. “Look, I’m just saying – if you need someone to pretend to be your girlfriend, get them off your back...”
I expect him to shut me down immediately. To put his walls back up and tell me to mind my own business.
“You don’t know what you’re offering,” he says finally. “My family, they’re...”
“Scary? Yeah, got that from the phone call.” I can’t help but scoff. “You haven’t lived through Hawkins’ family drama until you’ve watched cousin Brody try to convince Grandma that psychedelic mushrooms are the key to enlightenment over Thanksgiving dinner.” I shiver at the memory. “It gets weird.”
He chuckles, but there’s something dark in it. “Trust me, they’re worse.”
“Besides,” I say, blowing a strand of hair out of my face, “I can handle difficult situations. Just last night I dealt with a bunch of drunk guys causing shit outside Luzia.” I’m actually pretty proud of that, going out there alone, standing my ground and telling them all to get in a cab.
Something flickers across his face – Surprise? Interest? – before his expression closes off again. “Why would you want to help?”
Because you look like you’re drowning and I want to throw you a lifeline. Because I’m curious about your world.
Because I want to know why you look so haunted when you talk about your family.
Because maybe part of me wants to see what it would be like to be your girlfriend, even if it’s pretend.
Instead, I shrug. “Because that’s what friends do. Help each other avoid arranged marriages.”
“Hm.”
“Plus, I’ve always wanted to crash a fancy party. See how the other half lives, you know?”
He almost smiles, just a tiny quirk of his lips, but it feels like victory. “You have no idea what you’d be getting into.”
“So you’ve said. So, tell me.”
He stares at me for a long moment, and I can practically see him weighing options, calculating risks. Finally, he sets down his coffee.
“It would have to be convincing,” he says slowly. “They’re very good at spotting lies.”
“Good thing I’m a great actress then. We’ll have a story.” I’m warming to this idea now. “We can practice. Get all our details straight. When did we start dating? What was our first date? When did you realize you were madly in love with me?”
This time he really does smile, just for a second. “I’ll have a think. Are you sure about this?”
No. Yes. Maybe. “Absolutely!”