Chapter 14
Four hours later, I’ve done a decent job of shoving Holden to the back of my brain—where, unfortunately, he seems to have sublet permanent space—in favor of girl time with Maya, Alana, and Soren.
We brought back enough Chinese takeout to feed a lab team after a double dive.
Szechuan eggplant, garlic noodles, orange chicken, scallion pancakes, dumplings, and more fried rice than anyone should reasonably order.
Alana and Soren’s apartment smells like a fusion of soy sauce and sweet chili heat, and the coffee table is covered in half-crumpled paper bags and open containers with chopsticks sticking out of them.
Maya’s “Certified Plate Cleaner” playlist is playing quietly in the background, and by the time we’re all collapsed on the floor in varying states of food coma, I almost believe I’ve outrun my own thoughts for the day.
Almost.
That is until Maya, who’s been suspiciously quiet for the last ten minutes, turns her head toward me.
“Cora, when are you going to admit you have feelings for your teacher?”
My head falls back against the couch cushion. “He’s not my teacher,” I say without looking at her. “He’s a PhD student. He just happens to be my TA.”
“Uh-huh. That’s what we call a technicality,” Maya says, chewing the last bite of spring roll. “Doesn’t change the fact that you’ve got it bad.”
“I do not have it bad. I’m just… dealing with an unwanted neurochemical response to a particularly intelligent male.”
Alana hums. “Girl, no. Use precise terminology. Describe the man the way he deserves.”
We all blink at her.
She shrugs. “What? I’m not saying I like him—he’s way too emotionally detached for me—but I could survive being trapped in an elevator with him without resorting to cannibalism. He’s hot, Coralie, it’s fine.”
That earns a round of snort-laughter from all of us.
“I don’t know,” I admit after a beat. “It’s like my brain has created an internal database called Inconveniently Attractive Things About Holden and updates it hourly. Without my consent, by the way.”
I tell them the decision I made—the rules I’m setting for myself. Sanity preservation protocols. Boundaries.
“Have you ever considered he might feel the same way?” Soren asks, sipping her soda.
“Uh, no. He has a girlfriend. And I don’t like jumping to conclusions.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you sprint there,” Maya deadpans.
I smack her with a napkin.
“Plus, if you got your answers from him, what would you spiral about at 3 a.m.?” She adds.
That earns another round of laughter. Even I have to smile. Because the worst part is, they’re not wrong. Not about any of it. And now that I’ve admitted it out loud, the truth is harder to ignore:
I crossed the line from academic admiration to full-blown interest weeks ago.
And no amount of self-imposed intellectual detachment is walking me back now.