Chapter 22 #2
“Summer,” he says, voice low and cold, “we’ve been done for a year. This is what you do when you’re bored. We’ve had this conversation—again, and again, and then some.”
That’s when she turns and points—at me.
“Is it because of fish girl?” she practically shrieks.
My spine locks up. My palms go clammy. Every head turns, and I immediately wish I could dissolve into the floor.
“Oh, hell to the fucking no—” Theo starts, tone dangerous now.
But Holden steps forward, cutting him off with a sharp glance before taking one last deliberate, intimidating stride toward her.
“It’s because you care about no one but yourself,” he says, every word sharp and calm and lethal. Then, eyes never leaving hers, he adds, “And, for the record, her name is Coralie.”
My jaw drops—probably enough to qualify as a medical concern—and for a solid second, I genuinely consider sprinting down the hallway and emailing Dr. Kymbert instead.
But then Summer huffs, lets out a dramatic grunt, and—yes—actually stomps her foot like a toddler.
She spins on her heel and storms past, nearly shoulder-checking me in the process.
I flatten myself against the wall, barely avoiding impact, and her uncomfortable companion follows quickly behind, looking like he’s just escaped a hostage situation.
My mouth is still unhinged when I glance back and find Theo muttering something low to Holden. They both turn toward me, and it’s Holden who speaks first.
“I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“I’m not,” Theo says immediately, earning a jarring, incredulous look from Holden.
“What?” he shrugs. “Now Freckles believes you for sure that this chick isn’t your girlfriend.”
I think my jaw might actually detach at this point. Because—wait. That means Theo knows. That means Holden told him. That means… oh god.
Heat flares in my cheeks. Of course Theo knows.
I suspected they shared everything, but the idea of Holden recounting the contents of my emotional combustion in his office—every awkward word, every unreciprocated feeling—is enough to make me wish the floor would swallow me whole for the second time today.
“I didn’t,” Holden says flatly, as if reading my thoughts. His voice is quieter now, more measured. “But I guess he’s right. Now you know.”
I blink at him, entirely speechless. I can’t even muster a sarcastic reply. My mouth’s still hanging open like a cartoon character mid-slapstick punch when, mercifully, the door to Dr. Kymbert’s office swings open.
The student leaves and she peeks out, her expression calm. “Coralie? Come in.”
Saved by academia.
Without another word, I glance once more at the two TAs and step inside, gently closing the door behind me like I’m barricading myself from the wreckage of whatever just happened in the hallway.
Inside the office, I do my best to leave the chaos of the hallway behind and focus on the brilliant woman in front of me. Dr. Kymbert settles back into her chair, opens a drawer, and retrieves a thick stack of papers before handing them across the desk.
“Here’s the packing list,” she says. “It’s pretty straightforward, but give it a thorough read.
Reusable containers are strongly recommended—nothing disposable, since we won’t be discharging any material over there.
Make sure to pack appropriate clothing for the forecasted weather conditions.
All diving gear will be provided on-site. You do have your certification, right?”
I nod. I completed my PADI certification the moment I was legally old enough for the full course—age fifteen, counting down the days.
“Superb,” she says, nodding in approval. “You’ll also find basic information on the accommodations, as well as the legal regulations of the protected sites we’ll be working at. It’s a lot of paperwork, I know, but I trust you’ll get it signed and returned to me or Mr. Wilkes within the next week.”
“I will. Thank you,” I say, carefully placing the thick packet into my bag.
I’ve regained enough composure now to string together more than two words without combusting.
“Dr. Kymbert? I just wanted to thank you for this opportunity. I know I haven’t started my field research yet and, well, it’s incredibly generous of you to have selected me for this. ”
She leans back slightly, offering a smile that feels like sunlight cutting through water. “Generosity had nothing to do with it, Miss Taylor. This was earned.”
My heart flips at the certainty in her voice, but she’s not finished.
“You’re a brilliant young woman—I believe you know that,” she says. “You also received a glowing recommendation I couldn’t ignore.”
My eyebrows lift before I can stop them. A recommendation?
Blythe? Maybe she reached out after I mentioned the opportunity in one of our weekly emails. But before I can ask, a darker, wilder thought flickers across my brain like static.
Could it have been…?
Dr. Kymbert doesn’t give me the chance to find out.
“I won’t be present for the first half of the trip, but I’ll join the group toward the end. I look forward to seeing you there. Oh, and Coralie?”
I hum in answer, looking at her.
“Do email me some of the STEM romances you’ve enjoyed reading. I’m looking for a new book.”
She winks, and the laugh slips out of me before I can stop it.
For the first time all day, my chest feels a little less tight.
I thank her—twice, maybe three times—then step back into the hallway, still holding the smallest breath.
It’s quiet now. Holden’s door is closed.
Theo’s door is slightly ajar, the hum of Tame Impala floating out into the corridor.
I make my way back down the hallway, then the stairs, then out the building and toward my dorm, thinking about just how many firsts this semester has thrown at me.
Every day feels like it flips a coin between inducing a full-blown panic attack or coaxing me into becoming the most courageous version of myself.
And somewhere between those two extremes, I remember something Blythe told me the very first time we met.
She said life was just a matter of choosing which situations deserved your one wild brain cell. I laughed then—because of course I did. But now, I think she meant it. I can waste it on spiraling, or I can spend it soaking in the terrifying, thrilling newness of it all.
Turns out, either way, it costs the same energy. Might as well choose the one that makes me feel alive.