Page 58 of Burn Bright (Cobalt Empire #1)

HARRIET FISHER

S leep is a luxury I don’t have.

Not with my Latin exam in three hours. Not having finished at the research lab at five a.m. this morning. Not with my mind whirling around Ben hating my ever-loving guts.

I sit cross-legged on the couch, the sun fully risen and my fourth cup of coffee sitting sourly in my stomach.

My phone is face up on the end table, and I struggle not to take quick glances at it.

I shouldn’t be waiting for Ben to text me.

I’m fully capable of texting him—but he could just want to cut me out of his life like an infected wound.

He’s leaving in less than two months anyway, so there’s a good chance he’ll use this moment to fast forward to the inevitable.

My eyes burn as I trample emotion. Words blur on the pages of the textbook.

Eden exits her bedroom in a rush, fitting earbuds in, and snatching her Lululemon sling off the barstool. I’m at least lucky I don’t have an early morning class like her. She gives me a small wave as she stuffs her feet in sneakers. I return it.

We’re not friends , but at least we don’t treat each other like a forgotten carton of milk, spoiling in the back of the fridge.

We acknowledge one another’s existence. We’re considerate enough to wash dishes, put them away, and not overtake or overshare.

It makes for a pretty good roommate relationship.

No tension and even less risk for drama.

I rotate to my textbook when I hear the click of the door opening.

“Oh!” Eden exclaims in surprise.

“Sorry, I was about to knock.”

Goosebumps form on my skin as his voice sends an electric current through my body. It can’t be.

I twist around to see Eden nodding a ton. “Yeah, no worries.” She gestures a hand toward the living room, giving him silent permission to enter. Much taller than her, Ben peers over her head, and his gaze connects with mine.

My lungs inflate. I wobble onto my feet, clutching my textbook to my chest.

The corner of his lip lifts. His blue eyes carrying as much emotion that courses through me. “Hey, Fisher.”

“Hey,” I reply, almost breathless.

I must miss Eden disappearing down the hall, but I realize she left when Ben closes the door behind him. He grips a white paper bag in his left hand while a potted fern is tucked under his arm like a football. “You have that Latin test in a few hours, right?”

I nod.

He lifts the bag. “I brought brain food.”

My eyes well so suddenly, which causes my face to form a monstrous glower in some attempt to stop it. He pauses halfway to the couch like he’s unsure if I’m mad.

“You brought me food…”

“Yeah, I’ve seen your fridge.” He smiles, but it’s a tentative one. “Is that okay? I can go if you’d rather study alone. I just thought I could help.”

This wouldn’t be the first time he’s helped me study, but I’m just overwhelmed that he’s here right now.

“You don’t want to talk about what I told you last night?

” I skip over the graphic mice-murdering details.

Are we just pretending I don’t do experiments on animals?

Is this a fact we’re burying under a rug?

“I want to talk.” Ben places the paper bag on the coffee table, along with the fern. “But you have an exam in”—he checks his watch—“less than three hours. And I’d feel like shit for taking away your studying time.”

I twist the beaded choker around my neck. “I don’t think I can concentrate anyway.”

He nods.

I nod back, eyeing the springy green fern.

It’s the fourth plant Ben has bestowed upon my apartment.

After the eucalyptus, I told him he should be saving his tips, not transforming my place into the Secret Garden.

He said, “Without plants, life wouldn’t be sustained on earth, so I’d say this little fella is priceless.

” He added, “And I’ve never budgeted in my life. ”

It shows.

My body wants to float into the stratosphere knowing he’s still gifting my apartment—okay, maybe me —priceless little fellas.

I place my vocabulary book beside the food bag. “I’ve tried memorizing the same fifty words all morning. It’s not really sinking in.”

He knows I’m in intermediate Latin. I’m not being quizzed over grammar or writing out full length sentences.

I’ll be translating portions of Caesar Invasion of Britain from Latin to English.

A lot of it is context clues. Most of it requires knowing hundreds of Latin words.

Add in the fact that most verbs have more than one definition, and it’s like having to solve a logic puzzle in addition to translating a language.

Ben snatches the paperback and opens it to the earmarked page. I’ve highlighted all the words I’m struggling with, so it’s no surprise when he says, “Dēleō, dēlēre, dēlēvī, dēlētum.” Latin is a dead language, and yet, his pronunciation is near perfect.

I dizzy a little.

His eyes lift to mine, waiting for me to give the answer.

“Second conjugation,” I say. “To destroy, wipe out, erase.”

“I’m not erasing you from my life over this,” Ben tells me. “That’s why I’m here.” He pushes the white paper bag toward me. My stomach lets out a low grumble.

He smiles.

“Fuck,” I curse, fighting my own smile, then I peek inside the bag.

A bagel. He bought me a bagel. The herbed cream cheese smells divine, but before I take a bite, I have to explain.

“When I joined Dr. Venison’s lab, I knew I’d be working with mice.

But I didn’t know I’d be the one euthanizing them.

I thought the grad students would just…give them to me already dead.

Which I know probably isn’t any better, but I was stupid… na?ve.”

His face twists. “That’s shitty they didn’t tell you.”

I lift my shoulders. “I think they thought it’d be something I should handle if I’m going into science…medicine.”

“You’re eighteen,” he says like that matters, but I’m not sure it does. I’m an adult. Maybe a new adult, but I’m still expected to perform the same duties as students who are twenty-two.

“The position is voluntary,” I remind him.

“No one is forcing me to do it. It’s not even a requirement for my major.

I just know it’s something I need on my resume for med school.

I could quit, but I’m not going to because I can’t get into another lab halfway through the semester. I know that makes me an asshole?—”

“You’re not an asshole,” he snaps, angrily. He glances down at the book in his hands, and while I bite into my bagel and chew, he reads, “Doleō, dolēre, doluī, dolitum.”

I swallow. “To grieve, suffer; hurt, give pain.”

Ben looks to me with a million questions in his eyes, and I prepare for him to ask how much the mice suffer. But then he says, “Does it hurt you to have to kill them?”

“The first time I did it, my heart raced so hard. I thought I was going to mess it up and cause the mouse more discomfort. I just wanted it to be quick and painless for her.”

His forehead creases. “You were in the room?”

Oh…he must think we use gas. “So…CO2 asphyxiation is incredibly painful. The sensation is similar to drowning, and it’s not fast. It’s more humane to do cervical dislocations.”

His lips part in shock. “You snap their necks?”

“With a beaker.”

He puts a hand to the back of his neck. His face breaks. “Jesus.”

“It’s the worst part,” I say. “I hate it so much, but I don’t think I’m supposed to like it. If I got desensitized to it, I think I’d make myself switch labs.”

“But you don’t want to switch now?”

I shake my head. “I mean, I could try to get into a plant or cell biology lab next semester, but these positions aren’t easy to apply for. And I’ve already established a relationship with Dr. Venison. I need her recommendation for med school…”

He looks away, and my voice drifts off.

“I’m sorry,” I breathe out. “For disappointing you.”

When he turns back, his face is a full wince. “You haven’t disappointed me, Harriet. I just never thought I’d be fal—friends with someone who experiments on animals.”

I’m stuck on his trip up. Was he going to say falling? Is he falling for me? My heart skips.

“The work my lab does is important,” I say. “If that makes any difference.”

He takes a breath. “What are you studying?”

“The development of structural proteins in the thymus,” I explain.

“The thymus matures T cells, so it’s critical for our immune system and helping fight against disease.

My biggest reason for even wanting to be a doctor is to help people.

This is just another way to do that.” I take a small nibble from the bagel while I watch him process.

He’s quiet in his own contemplation before he says, “The whole world is filled with pain, and I’ve always believed it’s my responsibility to not cause more.

Some people feel the same as me. Some people don’t.

At the end of the day, everyone draws a line on what they’re willing and not willing to do.

I get that. I’ve accepted that. Because I’m not perfect.

” He pulls at his T-shirt. “It’s organic cotton, but it was shipped on a commercial airline to the store I bought it from.

I fly private with my family at times. I could’ve dedicated my entire life to fighting for massive corporations to go green, some of which my parents own, but I haven’t done that because at times it feels like speeding into a brick wall.

And then I think the person who can handle the repetitive crash, just to crumble a single brick, is better than me.

Maybe they should’ve been born in my place.

They would’ve been the Cobalt who could’ve made a greater, more positive impact on the world. ”

I glance down at the bagel, then up at him.

“I know with great power comes you-know-what, and Cobalts are said to be gods, but you don’t have to change the whole world for the better to be considered a good Cobalt.

Just touching one person’s life is enough, Friend.

” I bite my lip and add, “You’ve made mine better. For whatever that means to you.”

Ben hangs on to my words for a long beat. “It means a lot.” He breathes in strongly.

I breathe out.

And he says, “Perfect people don’t really exist, nor do I think they should.

We all have different values because we’re human, so I won’t hate you for yours.

I’m just glad to know them. I’m glad I know you.

” He lets out a heavy breath before returning to the book. “Reperiō, reperīre, repperī, repertum.”

My brain is spinning, and I struggle to find the translation.

His blue eyes lift to mine. “Fisher?”

“I don’t know.”

He smiles softly. “Fourth conjugation. To find, discover. Learn. Get.”

I scowl, realizing he aptly picked it out. “I should have known that one.”

Ben deserts the book on the coffee table.

Coming closer, he places a hand on my shoulder, the other on my flushed cheek.

I have to look up to meet his gaze, my neck straining.

He bends at his knees a little for me. The intimacy has my heart thumping.

How did I deserve him? And why does he have to leave New York?

“You’re going to ace this test,” he tells me.

I grimace like he’s full of shit. “When I just got one wrong?”

“Yeah, because I know you won’t forget it now.”

He’s right. I won’t.

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner about the research,” I whisper.

His gaze warms mine. “I’m sorry for judging you for it. I won’t do that again.” He brushes his thumb against the corner of my lip. Oh, he’s wiping away a little dab of cream cheese. I lick the rest, but his pretty boy smile is officially doing a number on my ovaries.

My body wants him.

I want him.

I hate that he checks his watch. I think I wouldn’t mind staying here with him and missing the exam altogether. It’s a scary thought. I’ve never flunked a test, let alone purposefully skipped one. “We have some time for more studying.”

“Or we could do other things,” I offer.

His expression turns heady at the mere insinuation of sex, and I feel his palm slide from my cheek to the back of my neck. It’s a sexy move that has my body tingling.

“We can’t. See, if you fail this test because of me, I would judge myself. ” He backs away from me, but there’s a gnarled sound in his throat when he does. He returns to the book. “I’m going to need your help after you ace this thing.”

“With what?” I ask eagerly. He’s so quick to assist me in anything, and for someone who has all doors opened for him, it’s hard to find big opportunities to lend a helping hand.

“I can’t live with my brothers anymore,” he explains. “I need to find a new place to stay. Like STAT.”

It hits me that if he wants to leave his apartment asap, then his brothers must be failing at seducing him toward loving New York.

This is not good. The words taste bitter in my mouth, but I say them anyway. “Yeah, I can help.”