Page 88 of Ink & Ambition

“I’ll bet you were,” she says with a smile. She’s giving me her full attention, which I appreciate but it also scares the shit out of me. I suddenly realize I don’t want to let her down.

“In high school, that was when my dad started to really prepare me for entering the family business. My extracurriculars fell to the wayside so I could spend afternoons and weekends at the shop, following in his footsteps.

“When I came here to TU, I started undeclared. My dad didn’t give a shit what I majored in. All he wanted was for me to graduate with a degree from his alma mater and then come back home to work at the company.”

Margot continues to listen, her hand resting softly on my arm that’s resting on the desk in front of me. Her thumb is tracing light circles against my skin, the feeling keeping me grounded in the room, in the conversation.

“In sophomore year, I had to declare something so I just went with whatever classes I thought I would enjoy the most. I started my exercise science major and I really did like the coursework. And many of my fraternity brothers were in my classes.”

“Exercise science makes a lot of sense for you,” she says softly, with a gentle smile.

“It doesn’t matter. A degree in exercise science doesn’t mean a damn thing to my father. But as I’ve taken all these classes these past three years, I’ve genuinely started to love it. There are so many things I could do with an exercise science degree. I could become a personal trainer. I could own my own gym with training classes. Hell, I could even be a P.E. teacher if I wanted.”

Margot laughs, “I’m trying to picture you teaching kickball to a bunch of kindergarteners.”

I join in her glee. “Yeah, that one’s probably not for me.” I grab the hand she has on top of my arm, squeezing the fingers lightly. “But you could actually imagine me as a trainer, can’t you?”

“Yeah, I can.”

“I can, too,” I sigh, leaning back in my chair. I pull my arm out from her grip to run my hands through my hair. “But how can I make a speech about my dreams of being a trainer when I know that I’m never going to be one?”

“Well, you don’t know that. What if you talk to your father? Explain to him that you have your own dreams in life?”

I huff out a harsh laugh. “Try explaining that to Oliver Prescott. The man lives only for himself and his business. He doesn’t give a shit what I want. Or what Drew wants either.”

Thinking about my father always makes my blood boil so I hop out of my seat rather than take my anger out on Margot. I grab my bag and head for the door. Margot follows, rushing on her little legs to catch up to me.

“But you’re a man now, you’re not a boy he can boss around,” she says, slightly out of breath as she catches up to me.

“Oh, but he can.”

“But why? What could he do to you if you just say no?”

“It’s not what he could do to me. I don’t give a shit what he does to me. It’s Drew that would suffer from my insubordination.”

Drew, my baby brother who has done nothing but support my father, having been the only living parent he’s ever really remembered. It’s a begrudging respect but respect nonetheless. I swore when we suffered that attack, I swore that I would always protect him. And I always will.

Margot nods. “Okay.” She lays her hand in mine and I grip it, interlacing our fingers immediately. “I get it.”

I sigh, honestly shocked at how she’s able to calm me down. Letting out a breath, I rest my forehead against hers, closing my eyes to relax. And then I open them when I realize we’re standing like this in the middle of the quad.

When I look up, there’s not an eye in a hundred foot radius that’s not trained on us. Margot squeals slightly when she realizes it as well. Quickly, she pulls her hand out of mine. And I let her. We both step back and look at each other.

What are we doing? This very public display is not something I’m known to do. My reputation precedes me at this school, and I’m not exactly known as the “boyfriend” type. It seems like Margot is having the same mini panic attack as I am. We’re both silent for a few minutes, staring wide-eyed at nothing but each other.

“We need to talk,” we both say, in unison. Then we both turn and walk right to our Monday afternoon study room, as if on auto-pilot. Instead of sitting on the same side of the table, we sit opposite. As if on a date. Or in an interrogation.Cue the harsh overhead lighting.

Margot has her hands clasped on the table and mine rest on the tops of my knees. Neither of us are relaxed. I have no ideahow this conversation is going to go. I try to think of what I want to say but Margot, bless her, speaks first.

“I like you, Alex.”

She’s said this to me before but it doesn’t stop my heart from swelling. I’m about to agree with her when she cuts me off, continuing.

“But I understand that you’ve got a reputation. One that you enjoy. One that I imagine you want to keep so–”

“Hold on–”

Margot speaks over my interruption. “I just don’t want you to think you owe me anything. You don’t. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you these past few weeks but I don’t want you to feel pressured to give me more than you’re willing to give.”

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