Page 14

chapter fourteen

how do you say 'denial' in french?

“ R epeat after me,” Rory said, her voice patient, the way it always was. The shadows from the sun and the lining on the windows cast over the side of her face as her pen tapped each word, making her silky brown skin glow. “Je ne suis pas nul en francais.”

I leaned back in my chair, forcing asmile that hopefully told the rest of thelibrary that I wasn’t dying inside from conjugating verbs for the past hour. “Easy. Je ne soes pas nel een franckais.”

Her lips quirked, the faintest hint of asmile tugging at the corners. I caught it,though. I always caught it. “Close, but try again. Je ne suis pas nul en francais.”

“Je ne suis pas nul en francais,” Iparroted, dragging out the syllables.

And with each one that flowed between us, her smile grew.“That means ‘I don’t suck at French'.”

A quick laugh blew from my nose,echoing in our corner of the main dome.“Good one,” I said, lifting my arms behind my head and stretching, summoning a yawn. “Next time I bomb a test, I’ll just chant that at my professor. I’m sure they’ll pass me out of sheer admiration for my optimism.”

Her eye roll reminded me that she was here. Which sounded stupid, but sometimes, when we existed like this, I couldn't help but wonder if I'd simply overslept and my dreams of her tolerating me this close were just that. A dream. But surely if I could count the different shades of brown swimming in those rolling eyes, if I could feel her breath hitting the edges of my face, then surely it was real.

Perhaps the other reason why I couldn't believe this was happening was because I was going agaisnt everything that kept me away from her last year. And I was still trying to understand what the fuck was the matter with me?

I planted myelbows back on our table, and despite my raging thoughts, I couldn’t helpbut watch as her smile lingered, like she couldn’t quite shake it. “You’ll thank me for this one day.”

“Sure,” I deadpanned, “right after Ithank student debt for existing.”

“It’s just a bit of harmless manifesting.”her palms raised. “God forbid you have the universe on your side when you go in for your oral next week.”

Side note: this oral exam had snuck up on me out of nowhere. And, honestly, I didn’t need it right now. Public speaking was bad enough on a good day. Public speaking in a language I clearly wasn’t meant to speak? That was a special kind of torture. Then there was Burton still on my ass, my roommates somehow deciding my half-hearted attempts at cleani ng the other day were an invitation to crown me the apartment maid, and, of course, I had to navigate this new situation with Rory whilst fighting the urge to tear down the walls that had kept her out.

Just another Tuesday, I suppose.

Nudging the cap of my pen against thetable, I flicked it back and forth, stealing a glance at her. “The universe hasn’t been on my side for the past eight years. I really doubt me chanting to myself that I'm gonna to be fine is going to change anything.”

“You never know.”She hummed.

And as my eyes caught hers again, I wondered where she got all her optimism from—if it was real or just something she’d learned to wear, like armour. She’d been through heartbreak, through the kind of losses that changed a person, yet she still smiled like she didn't know when life might flip on her again. Maybe that was why she held on so tightly to hope—because she knew how quickly it could slip away.

So I nodded, “I’ll bear it mind.”

Her eyes barely skimmed mine as my wordssettled in our quiet corner of the library, before she dipped her hand into her bag, shuffling to face me with a stack of cards. And I knew exactly what was coming before she could even open her mouth.

“Oh, no,” I groaned, dragging my handsdown my face. “Don’t even thinkabout it.”

“Yes. We’re doing it.” She peeked at hercards again before eyeing me. “Besides,it’s not like you have a say anyway. For this entire hour, I basically own you.”

God , she was merciless—the kind ofruthless you could only get away withwhen all she had to do was pin me with a stare and I was putty in her hands.

We’d done this twice since the firstsession at my place, and as time went on I realised that the girl she showed the world was exactly who she was in private too. You could tell she cared about this—cared about helping me.Even when she didn't need to. But what was new to me was the spark I never truly got to discover. The hidden fire that no-one would ever guess layed under that innocent smile and sparkling eyes.

Part of me loved the thought, loved that I was lucky enough to see that side of her. The otherpart regretted agreeing to this because she really was mericless.

I let my hands flop onto the table. “But I hate—”

“Hate pronunciation because—”

“It’s embarrassing—”

“It is not embarrassing.” Her hushedlaugh rang out—a soft siren call thatbounced off the library walls and threaded through the shelves. She tucked her hair behind her ear, not even looking at me as she spoke again. “I think the reason you’re finding this so hard is because you aren’t trying. Not properly. And if you don’t try and pronounce the words right, then come your oral you’ll be screwed, and this would have all been pointless.”

I narrowed my eyes, folding my arms ina sulk. “You’re being mean.”

“You’re being a baby.”

“ Yeah well, you’re…” My words stalledunder the weight of her stare, her eyesglimmering with earnest persuasion. Daring me to keep going because she was stubborn, and kind, and so annoyingly patient. And she wasn’t going to give up on me, not with this, not with anything.

And just like that, another brick crumbed from the walls.

“Fine,” I mumbled, leaning forwardagain. “One more time.”

She shifted in her chair, dragging itcloser with a soft scrape against the floor. It was a small move, but with the air conditioning blasting in the library, it was anything but. The scent hit me before I could think about it—sweet and warm, like almonds coated in syrup.

It took me a second to connect thedots. She’d just come from her shift at Flo’s. Of course that’s why she smelled like that.

Would it be selfish of me to ask her toschedule all our study sessions after hershifts? Jesus , who was I kidding? Of course it was selfish. She was probably drained from a long day, and instead of getting the rest she deserved, she’d be here, helping my sorry ass.

Or should I say, aider mon deseee…

Oh forget it.

“Ready?” Her voice pulled me out of myhead, and my eyes snapped back to hers.

“No.”

Ror y shrugged, unfazed. “Too bad.” Her shoulders shimmied, and before Icould sneak a breath, she began to fireoff words. “Squirrel.”

Oh fuck. I knew this one.

My brows screwed up as my claspedhands pressed against my mouth.“écureuil?” I said it more like a question, but Rory’s eyes soon lit up.

“Yes! Okay, next one.” Her smile mademe smile. “Kettle.”

I chewed my lip for a moment before itcame to me. “Easy. Bouilloire.”

Her gasp was probably the prettiestthing I’d ever heard. “Have you been studying?" My face pulled. "Finn Rhodes, Mr I hate pronunciation , has been practising?”

I shrugged, not wiping the stupid smileoff my face. “Maybe.”

She let out a breath, her bodyshrinking, like she was relieved. Like she was hoping this would all work out for me. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

Rory straightened her arched back, asthough a lightbulb went off in her head. “Happy. Yeah, do that one next.”

I didn’t budge, the word and theawkward way to pronounce it leapingto the tip of my tongue. “Heureux.”

Her playful eyes narrowed, the brown inthem barely visible. “Use it in a sentence.”

“Easy.” I let my eyes search hers,falling deeper into those gorgeous brownswirls, before licking away my smile. “être ici avec toi me rend plus heureux que je ne l'ai été depuis longtemps.” 1

The words fell from me before I couldtranslate them in my mind. And for amoment, I forgot that Rory could understand every word.

Those eyes widened as my words settled, and I’m pretty sure the whole library heard her swallow. “That was happiest. Not happy.” Her voice was breathless.

I nodded, resting my arms against thetable and not breaking away from her stare. “I know what I said.”

I saw the realisation flush across her skin, a quiet, undeniable shift. It held me still—held everything still—like the world had taken a vow of silence just to witness this moment. Just to listen for whatever came next.

I sunk back into myself a little, rollingthe sleeves of my grey sweatshirt and falling back into that armour I knew so well.

“My pronunciation has stunned you to silence, how bad must I be?” The laugh that came from me was every bit forced, a way to fill the empty space while I waited for Rory to say anything. Do anything.

My sigh broke the silence. “Rory—”

“I’m fine—”

“I meant—”

“I said I’m fine.” Her tone was firm, buther eyes soon softened, along with the rest of her features.

My mouth acted quicker than my brain. “If that were true wouldn’t look sosad.” That got her attention, and I took the chance to lean forward. “You can be honest with me, you know. This isn’t last year, you don’t need to protect yourself—”

“Of course I do.” The hushed tone ofher voice chilled me. I don’t think I’dever heard her so… compressed. “And you of all people should know why.”

Whether she knew it or not she wasshowing me her heart as though it was sewnto her sweater. Right there. Glinting just right to show me the ways I’d broken it. How the world had broken it.

“It’s just a sentence. I know that.” Herlaugh was forced, so annoyingly forced asshe shook her head. “Let’s just move on. Please.”

I couldn’t just sit here in silence. Thatwas how we’d ended up in this dynamicin the first place. “I don’t think it was just a—”

The table vibrated as my phone lit up,the sound cutting through the quiet of the table and of the upper wing of the library. Both our heads turned toward it at the same time.

Dad.

I snatched the phone before Rory couldsee the name on the screen, my chestalready tightening. “I’ll be back in a second,” I said, keeping my voice even.

She didn’t say anything, just nodded,but somehow, that stung worse.

Sliding my chair back, I scraped itagainst the floor louder than I meant to and retreated toward the bookshelves. The spiral staircase leading down to the ground floor felt like a lifeline, giving me just enough distance to breathe. Leaning over the stone railing, I glanced back at our table, before the vibrations drew me back to what was happening.

My stomach twisted as I read his nameagain.But before I could talk myself out of it, before I could go back on my word to Daisy that I'd try, Ilet a low curse slip under my breath as Ihit accept.

“Hello?” I said, my voice breakinghalfway through the syllables. The staticthat followed felt heavier than it should’ve, dragging out the seconds until I thought I might choke on them.

“Hello?” I tried again, my browfurrowing as faint rustling filtered through the speaker.

“Dad?” My voice cracked, softer thistime, but no answer came. Just more rustling.

I waited, and listened, holding my fingeragainst my other ear just in case it was thelack of reception from being in a stone building. All I heard was static and rumbles, and more weird sounds that I couldn’t name.

And then it hit me, my soul sinking deep andfast, like a stone that had been dropped into a dark well.

He hadn’t meant to call me, had he?

My lip curled under my teeth as Isqueezed my eyes shut, the phone pressinghard enough against my ear to hurt. I stood there, fury bubbling under my skin as my hands dug into the stone bannister, the edges biting at my skin.

Fuc k, was I an idiot for thinking thisman could change? For holding out hope that maybe—just maybe—he needed me. Or worse, that I still needed him.

What if he’s just trying?

That was bullshit. Every last bit of it.

The static crackled in my ear, mockingme, and I couldn’t stop myself. “You’re a waste of space,” I said, my voice low and sharp, trembling with rage. “And I hope you’re never happy again.”

I ripped the phone away, letting my armdangle uselessly at my side. My fistclenched around the phone as anger burned through me, fierce and hot, dulling the ache I didn’t want to face.

Because anger was better. Angernumbed the feeling of being forgotten. Ofmeaning nothing to the one person who was supposed to love me no matter what.

I turned, frustration buzzing in everynerve. I had to calm down before goingback to Rory. After a few shaky breaths, I climbed back up the stairs and headed for the table.

Rory looked up as I sat down, herbrown eyes, that veil of warmth back in them, scanned my face like she could see every crack in my facade.

“You okay?” she asked softly, her voicecareful, one of those dimples dippinginto her smooth, mocha skin.

“Yeah.” I forced a smile, too tight andtoo fake, but it was all I had. “Just peachy.”

Her brow furrowed, concern tugging ather expression, but she didn’t push.Instead, she tilted her head, curiosity softening her gaze. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head, my voice coming outquieter than I intended. “Not really.”

Rory nodded, her eyes lingering on minefor a moment before dropping back tothe notebook. She tapped her pen against the edge of the page in an uneven rhythm, not looking at me, and the silence that followed felt heavier than it should’ve.

I shifted in my chair, feeling the weightof what I’d said—or maybe what Ihadn’t said. “About earlier,” I started, keeping myvoice low. Her pen stilled, her gazeflicking up to meet mine. “I didn’t mean to—.”

“You didn’t,” she said quickly, her smilesoft but a little too polished, like shewas trying to brush it off.

“I’m still sorry.” I hesitated, leaningforward. “I should've thought before I said it and I'm sorry if I upset you.”

Her lips pressed together, and she letout a quiet sigh. “I’m not upset. Notreally.”

Not really roughly translated to you've hurt me worse before, so this is nothing.

Only then did the impact of what I'd let slip, regardless of whether it was the truth or not, hit me like a shockwave.

Sure, she knew I wanted to make things better between us, to let our past go and somehow find a way to exist around one another in more than just awkward silences. But she didn't know that rejecting her last year wasn't what I wanted to do. She didn't know that I still had feelings for her.

All she knew was what I was willing to tell her back then. And I think my blank stare and sealed lips told her everything she needed to know about me.

I thought itwas kinder at the time, thought it was better to let her down easy, but the look in her eyes said otherwise. She deserved an answer, deserved better than my cowardice, but my hands were tied.

And they still were.

I didn't want serious. Couldn't want it. Notwith her. Not with anyone.

I just hated that she was the one to beat the other end of my promise to myself.

I cleared my throat, forcing the knot inmy chest down where it belonged. “So,”I said, wanting more than anything to move on. “How was skating with… what’s her name again?”

“Aspen.” Rory reminded me, before she shrugged, absentmindedly flippingthrough her flashcards, as though she was silently testing herself. “Okay, I suppose.” A look appeared on her face a moment later, like she was giving up on whatever it was she actually wanted to say. As she placed down the cards, and sighed, I had a good inkling that I was right. “She… she asked me to train with her. And maybe,” her head tilted. “potentially compete.”

For a second, I just stared at her, my brain refusing to catch up. Rory’s fingerstwisted in the edge of her notebook, her head tilted down like she was afraid to look at me, like maybe she thought I’d laugh it off or tell her she couldn’t do it.

I s hook my head, before dipping my eyes to meet hers. “You’re kidding.”

Her head dipped in the faintest shake, her curls brushing against her cheek. “Nope,” she murmured. “She thinks I could… I mean, if I put in the work, she thinks I might have a shot.”

I blinked. “Rory, that’s insane.” My voice cracked on the last word, but Icouldn’t help it.

Her doh eyes darted up, cautious, searching. “In a good way?”

“In the best way,” I said, leaning forward. “This is huge. I mean, isn’t this whatyou wanted? To see if it was still something that you could do.”

The corners of her mouth twitched, but the smile didn’t fully land. “I wanted tosee if skating was still a part of me. But the idea of training and competing and making it my entire life again…” she shrugged, pulling her knitted sleeves over her knuckles. “it just feels like… a lot,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Like this is all happening too fast. I just started skating again, and now she’s talking about competitions? It’s scary.”

I watched her fingers tighten around the notebook, her fingertips turning paleagainst her skin. She wasn’t saying it outright, but I could feel the doubt radiating off her.

“Okay, but let’s break it down, thinkabout it in baby steps.”

Her gaze bounced to me. “You're usingmy methods on me?”

I s hrugged. “I’m a sucker for poeticjustice,” My chest dissipated as I caught her fighting a smile. “Anyway, when you skated with her—did you have fun?”

Her lips parted, the answer already onher face before she spoke. “Yeah,” shesaid softly. “I did.”

I leaned back, letting my shouldersrelax as I shrugged. “And, I’ve never metAspen, but if she’s a big-time coach, then I’m assuming that she doesn’t just tell anyone that they’re good enough to compete. Which in my head means that you were good enough.”

“I suppose,” she mumbled, her mouth tugging like she didn’t want to admit it.

The table creaked, echoeing as I folded my arms over my notes, clashing with my sigh, which got her eyes on mein time to ask, “And is that enough reassurance for you that maybe you’re meant for this?”

I could practically feel her trying tountangle the mess in her head, and all I wanted to do was reach across the table and pull it apart for her.

“Everything else,” I added, quieter thistime, “is just a bonus so long as you’re happy again.”

As she let out a breath, she satforward, stretching her hands across the table.But as she did her cold fingertips brushed mine. It felt like tiny lightning bolts were zapping between them, and even then I didn’t move. Neither did she.

For a moment, all the noise in myhead—the weight of my dad’s call, the guilt,the constant swirl of worry—just stopped. The faint life that hummed in the library was all that floated betwee n us, the skimming of book pages, the quiet tapping of keys, but even then it wasn’t loud enough for me to miss the way her breathing hitched as I grazed my pinky finger over hers.

It was one of those moments where words felt irrelevant. We could try and havewhatever silent conversation we were having in either of our languages and still, I don’t think my heart would beat as fast as it was with that one, tiny decision.

She didn’t pull away as quickly as I thought she would, letting me fall into thatchasm I’d just promised myself I wouldn’t dare look into. But when she did, I waited for the guilt to hit me. Waited for the moment when I slapped myself for being reckless with my heart.

But it never came.

Luckily, Rory raked her hands through her hair, her mouth parting before Icould sink into the mazes of my mind.“Okay, I’ll do it,” she said finally, her voicebarely above a whisper. “I mean, I’ll try.”

A grin split across my face before Icould stop it. “Call her now. Tell her.”

Her nose scrunched slightly, as her eyessank to her hands. “No, no, I’ll wait—”

“If you wait,” I cut in, smirking, “you’lljust talk yourself out of it.”

Her brows pulled together.“You know me way too well for someone I actively tried to avoid.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “I think I just see myself in you, that’s all.”

The look she gave me was enough to knock the air right out of my chest. Itwasn’t just understanding—it was something softer, warmer. Something I wasn’t ready to name.

She stood, her phone clutched in her hand, passing me a tiny, true smile beforeshe headed toward the bookshelves.

Pride swelled in my chest as I faced out towards the library, but it was quicklyreplaced by that gnawing fear that kept me up at night.

I was allowed to be proud of her without thinking that meant something else–something deeper. But maybe the reason why I was feeling like this was because that line into something deeperhad already been crossed.

Who was I kidding? I crossed it the dayI met her and she told me her name.

When she came back, her cheeks wereflushed, her eyes brighter than they’dbeen in weeks.

“Well?” I asked, spinning back around toface her.

“She’s put me with the novice class. Therecital is in two weeks,” she said, sitting down across from me.

And yet, with every thought thatwas screaming at me to run, I couldn’t help the grin curling up my face. “Are tickets on sale yet?”

1. Being here with you makes me the happiest I’ve been in a long time.