Chapter 22
This awareness somehow makes the moment even more disorienting. Because despite clearly registering the minor panic attack I’m trying to mask, Holden doesn’t so much as glance in my direction. No acknowledgment. Not even the smallest twitch of his zygomaticus—so much for a half-smile.
Not that I’ve come to expect kindness from him, but…
between driving me home that night and buying me dessert, I thought we’d moved past academic nemesis territory.
I don’t kid myself into thinking he sees me as a friend—he wouldn’t, not while I’m still his student—but even so, the total lack of connection feels colder than I was prepared for.
Dr. Kymbert drags a stool to the front of the room and takes a seat, her expression serious in a way that makes the class instantly quieter. Holden leans against the desk behind her, arms folded in his signature stance, his gaze fixed on her as if the rest of us don’t exist.
“I’m not going to pretend I’m here to lecture today,” she begins. “I know the only reason attendance is near-perfect this morning is because you’re all waiting to hear who’s been selected for the research trip.”
I shift in my seat, exchanging a glance with Emma, who looks just as clammy and on edge as I feel. Though I could swear she steals a quick smile in Holden’s direction.
He doesn’t respond. Doesn’t even blink. She turns back to me, frowning slightly.
“He seems like he’s in a mood,” she whispers.
“He’s always in a mood,” I whisper back, eyes still locked on him. We’re close to the front, though not close enough for him to hear us—yet I’d bet my entire annotated copy of The Soul of an Octopus that I just saw the corner of his mouth twitch.
Dr. Kymbert clears her throat, bringing the room back to order. “Here’s how we’ll proceed. I’ll name each of the seven students selected for the study. If, for any reason, you’re unable—or unwilling—to join us, let me know now so your spot can go to someone equally deserving.”
Murmurs ripple across the room like static electricity, tension mounting in every fidget and shuffle.
She continues. “Those selected will need to come to my office today to collect the packing list and review the islands’ protected status regulations before we depart. Are we clear?”
A collective nod moves through the lecture hall.
Emma reaches across the narrow gap between our seats and takes my hand. I give it willingly, sweaty palm and all, and she squeezes once—reassurance, solidarity, shared nausea.
The first three names go quickly—people I’d mentally short-listed myself.
Each of them brilliant, meticulous, with a work ethic that rivals my own.
The kind of students who ask the right questions, who stay late in the lab without needing an audience.
For the past two weeks, I’ve found myself wondering who’d make the cut.
I don’t normally like pitting myself against others—marine science needs all the sharp minds and capable hands it can get—but still, curiosity got the best of me. And those three? Deserving.
“Next is Emma Kahele,” Dr. Kymbert says, and a small, startled gasp erupts to my left.
I whip my head toward Emma. Her hands fly to her chin, eyes wide and glassy. She looks like she’s trying to process her own name in slow motion.
I grin, full force. “Look at you! You did it!”
And I mean it. With her obsession for cetaceans and the kind of relentless passion most people can’t fake, Emma’s going to make a hell of a marine mammalogist. She’s the only girl named so far, and frankly, it’s about time.
Her face breaks into a wet, beaming smile. She allows herself the joy, and I’m glad she does.
While we’re still clutching each other’s forearms like shipwreck survivors, Dr. Kymbert names another guy. Then another girl.
That leaves one final spot. And about thirty of us still holding our breath.
“I know many of you were hoping for this opportunity,” Dr. Kymbert says, her tone careful now. “It was not an easy decision. Several faculty members weighed in. Ultimately, I had to make the call.”
That’s when Holden looks at me. His dark eyes give away nothing.
My shoulders dip, just slightly. Maybe it’s the sting of uncertainty. Maybe it’s the question I don’t want to ask: if he had any say in the selection, would he really choose to spend over a week on an isolated marine reserve with someone who once admitted—however awkwardly—to liking him?
I’d like to believe he wouldn’t jeopardize my academic future over a moment of uncomfortable honesty. I want to believe he sees me as a scientist first, a student second, and a walking disaster of feelings somewhere far, far after that.
But with Holden, I never really know.
“With that being said, the last person to join us on the trip will be…” Dr. Kymbert pauses, then turns her head slightly in my direction, her smile sharp enough to cut glass. “Coralie Taylor.”
My jaw slips open. Emma lets out a full-body squeal and hurls herself against my side. Her arms wrap around me while I stay completely frozen.
Because first of all—what if I misheard? What if, somehow, against all odds, there’s another Coralie Taylor in this class and she meant her? Not me, the one whose heart is now beating like it’s trying to evacuate my chest cavity.
And second—while joy is rapidly building in my chest like an incoming wave, I can’t quite let it crash just yet.
Around me, two dozen faces have dropped in collective disappointment.
I’ve never liked the taste of winning when it comes at the expense of people I respect.
Except Brad. Brad looks like he might combust, and I’m going to savor that.
Dr. Kymbert straightens, all business again. “That concludes today’s lecture. Take some time to recoup, email me any questions you may have and, for the seven of you joining us in two weeks, please come see me within the next three hours.”
Emma squeezes me tighter. “You’re going to the islands,” she whispers, giddy and stunned.
And for the first time since Dr. Kymbert said my name, I let myself believe it might actually be true. “We’re going to the islands.” I say, grinning, as our professor and TA walk out of the class without so much as a look behind them.
An hour and a half later, I’ve inhaled an entire poke bowl, walked the campus loop twice, and just took a moment to call Blythe about the exciting news.
She’s thrilled, of course, and compared me to that one species of bird that crash-lands straight out of the nest a few times before figuring out how to fly.
Classic Blythe—equal parts brilliant and bizarre. I adore her.
I kept myself busy on purpose. No doubt the other six chosen students swarmed Dr. Kymbert’s office the second class ended, and honestly, I’d prefer not to share my time with her in a crowd.
Now that most of the rush has passed, I make my way back toward the Marine Science building.
I pass the lab—mostly useless for me today since Damon’s been taken for a vet consultation two days ago—and head upstairs, my steps echoing slightly on the polished floors as I climb toward the faculty offices.
Just as I round the corner, I’m greeted by the unmistakable swish of Summer’s sleek black hair—followed immediately by the sharp scent of her overpriced perfume and a glimpse of her endlessly tanned legs.
I nearly bump into her, pulling back just in time as she spins around, letting go of the guy’s hand she was holding.
“Ugh. You again?” she says, lips curling in distaste. “You’re like, always here.”
“I, um… I study here.” Brilliant. Truly eloquent.
“I know that,” she says, rolling her eyes like I’m the one with the brain fog. “Are you here to see H? Because you’ll have to get in line.”
She pivots and starts heading toward his office, and—unfortunately—I trail after her, since Dr. Kymbert’s workspace is in the same direction.
I stop just outside the door to wait for the student currently with her to make his exit, leaning against the wall while I pretend not to be witnessing whatever drama’s about to unfold.
Summer, however, makes sure everyone’s aware of her presence by pounding on Holden’s office door like she’s trying to summon the dead. The echo probably reaches the North Shore.
Seconds later, the door swings open—Holden emerging in all his unamused glory, followed quickly by Theo stepping out from next door.
“Jesus, what the hell was that for?” Theo asks, already frowning when he spots her.
Holden’s eyes flick from Theo to the guy lingering awkwardly at the doorframe, then finally settle on Summer. His entire expression says he’s too bored to be angry.
“Summer, we’ve talked about this,” he says coolly. “Once you graduate, it’s customary to actually leave campus.”
I accidentally snort at the deadpan delivery, and Holden lifts his head sharply in my direction, clearly surprised.
Theo mirrors the snort, and I instantly regret all of my life choices.
Dr. Kymbert’s still with a student, Summer is between me and Theo’s office, and there’s no way to bolt down the hall without looking like I’m fleeing a crime scene.
So I stay frozen, trying not to breathe too loudly.
“I just came to show you how replaceable you are,” Summer says, voice all venom as she clutches the guy’s bicep. He looks seconds away from apologizing for being born, his posture stiff, his eyes darting. Something tells me he didn’t sign up for whatever this is.
“Lovely,” Holden replies dryly, shooting Theo a baffled look before returning his attention to her. “Well, now that I’ve been properly notified, you can go.”
“Remind me again, H—why are you such a jerk?” Her voice pitches up with frustration, and my secondhand embarrassment intensifies by the second.
Theo shifts then, tension rolling off him like waves. His expression darkens, but Holden halts him with a subtle lift of his hand.