Page 15 of Wild Skies

We trudge across campus in a loose cluster, all laden with cases and bags of equipment as well as our own personal backpacks. Despite the long day of travel and this final chore, the students chat happily and laugh together, their sneakers scuffing against the paved paths. They part to let a cyclist through, and a few of them make kissy noises at an ugly pigeon pecking by a bench.

My office is on the third floor of the natural sciences building. It’s a corner office with big windows and a private bathroom, and someone has clearly been watering my various plants. The students file in obediently, stacking the equipment cases and bags in a pile in the center of the rug.

“That’ll do.” My smile feels odd, as though my face has forgotten how to make normal expressions, but Iamgrateful to this group. They’re good students, all of them. “Thank you all for the last two weeks. I’ll deal with the equipment from here. Go on and settle back into your rooms.”

Laughing and jostling each other, they all call goodbye and turn to go—all except the quiet, subdued girl at the back. Maren doesn’t look up from the floor as she turns to leave, and Christ, I can’t take it for another second.

“A moment please, Maren,” I call, my voice calmer than I feel. If she leaves my office looking that sad, I will claw my own eyes out. “I’d like another word about your class assignment.”

Finally, she looks up, blue eyes catching mine before they dart away. She nods awkwardly, stepping to one side as the others all leave. A few of them offer fist bumps as they pass her, and Maren smiles weakly as she says goodbye.

Then we’re alone. I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. The empty office stretches between us, a seemingly impossible distance.

“Shut the door, please,” I rasp.

Maren turns robotically, doing as I ask.

“Lock it,” I add. “If you—if you’re comfortable with that, I mean.”

Thunk.

The lock clicks into place, then Maren squares her shoulders and turns to face me. Her chin is raised, defiant.

“I know what you’re going to say.” Her voice is soft but clear. “I know I messed up by falling asleep in your tent. I know I put everything at risk for you, and I know you don’t want to do this anymore. Iknow, professor. You don’t need to say it.”

My heart slams against my ribs, and I shake my head slowly. Is that what she’s been telling herself all day, slowly getting sadder and sadder? Is that why she looks so resigned now, like a doomed woman waiting for the ax to fall?

“Bullshit.”

The word clangs to the ground between us. Maren jolts, her eyebrows shooting up in confusion.

“Bullshit,” I say again, striding slowly around the pile of priceless equipment. I’ll deal with the telescopes and cameras later. I’ll check the bus back in with campus facilities; I’ll collate the data we collected.

Everything can wait except this.

“You think I’m angry at you.” I come to a stop in front of Maren, cupping her jaw gently. She shudders out a breath and gazes up at me, her eyes swimming with exhausted emotion. “You think I blame you for the fact that we have to sneak around. Listen to me: that isbullshit, Maren.”

She clings to my forearms, swaying toward me like she can’t help herself. Like I knock her center of gravity off balance, just like she does with mine.

“But—”

“I’m tired of this,” I say abruptly, cutting across her. As far as I’m concerned, there should not be even a tiny kernel of doubt in her mind. It’s a travesty that I let her doubt us at all. “I’m tired of acting like what we’re doing is wrong. Tired of pretending the way Ifeelis wrong. On Monday, I’m going to quit.”

Maren gasps, starting to shake her head, but I keep talking.

“There are other colleges, sweetheart. Other places for me to work. Believe me, my career will not be an issue. But if I let this go on, if I keep hurting you to protect my job… I’ll break this thing between us before we’ve even begun.”

And I couldn’t stand that. Couldn’tsurvivethat.

Maren is everything, and I’m done hiding that fact from the world.

“Tell me I’m wrong.” The words grate out of me, so sour on my tongue, but I force myself to say them. This only works if we’re both all-in, and she’s still blinking up at me, dazed by this new outburst. “Tell me that you don’t feel that way, that you don’t want me to quit. Tell me, Maren, and I’ll listen. I won’t pressure you into anything.”

My student sucks in a slow breath, holds it for a few seconds, then exhales. When she blinks, tears cling to her eyelashes, and her hands tighten on my forearms. We’re both dressed in hiking clothes, both still clothed for the wilderness, and it’s so alien in my clean-cut office.

“No,” Maren whispers. “I want this too.”

My heart soars.

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