Page 74 of Even If the Sky is Falling
Piper
Junior year
Outside, the April sunshine made the budding flowers and newly green grass look like a brochure designer’s dream, but no one in our premed cohort was enjoying it. We were all in the basement of West Hall, glued to computer screens and hitting the refresh button. Five of us sat silently, the stench of nerves probably wafting into the hallway and Hale Edison sat across from me, his brow furrowed in a way I pretended wasn’t cute as hell. There were so many things I pretended I didn’t think were cute or sexy or irresistible about my academic rival. I didn’t think the way he pushed his glasses up on his nose was adorable and I definitely didn’t notice how his forearms flexed when he worked his fingers over something delicate in the lab. I’d go to my grave before admitting how often I imagined those forearms flexing while his fingers worked over me.
“I’m in!” Someone shouted from across the room and the sound of hurried typing followed as we logged in to see our MCAT scores after waiting for over a month. I stared at the screen, digesting what was in front of me before looking up. One student groaned, another swore and two women gave each other a high five. Across from me, Hale remained glued to his screen, but a smile slowly spread across his face and he pushed his glasses up on his nose. He met my gaze and looked instantly concerned, but before he could open his mouth, I closed the browser window and walked out of the room, needing to find somewhere dark and quiet.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been in the storage room at the end of the hall when the door creaked open. The light from the open door illuminated the rows of supplies, the light from the hall reflecting off a beaker on the top shelf.
“Drake? You in here?”
I planned to stay silent—I was still in the shadow of the door, but a sob escaped my traitorous lips and he found me, walked inside and crouched down.
“Drake? What’s wrong? Your score?” His hand brushed mine and it was such a soft touch that I cried harder, emotion welling in me. “It’s okay,” he murmured, continuing to brush my hand. “Talk to me.”
I’d never cried in front of Hale—if you’d asked me the person I least wanted to break down in front of, it was him and his stupid chiseled jaw and expensive shoes. I never cried in front of anyone, and my only response was to suck in a breath because I wondered if he might be the only one who might understand.
“Drake, c’mon.” His hands moved up my arms. “It’s okay. A low score is not the end of the world.”
He had no idea and I couldn’t explain it, but he didn’t let go of my arms, he didn’t move from in front of me. If anything, he moved a little closer, awkwardly crouching next to me in that cramped space, and then he shocked me. When I still didn’t say anything, he pulled me into an embrace, his arms wrapping around my back and my face sinking against the crook of his neck where he smelled good and felt warm. His lips were near my ear, murmuring, “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” I finally said into his shirt. He stood for everything I wanted to be better than, but he was also the only person who might understand. “I’m not going to be a doctor.”
He pulled back from me, his arms still around me but falling to my waist, and our eyes met. “What are you talking about? Of course, you will.” His hand flexed at my waist when the door behind him clicked shut, the air-conditioning in the ancient building pushing it closed without assistance. We were in the dark, bodies pressed together which made it easier to voice.
“I’m not.” I let my own hands slide up his sides and heard the sharp intake of his breath. I’d spent three years next to Hale in classes, labs and volunteer work but I’d never touched him, not like this, and the hard lines of his body, and curves of his muscles, and the soft cotton of his shirt under my palms was a welcome distraction. When my fingertips were against his shoulders, I tipped up my chin, and repeated more definitively, “I’m not.”
“Drake.” His hand flexed again at my waist and then his other palm was on my shoulder, moving to the back of my neck, clumsy in the dark. “Piper. You’re the smartest person I know. The best prepared. You’re still going to be a doctor.”
“But I’m not. I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, stroking the side of his neck and once again hearing the sharp intake of breath. There was no light in the closet and it felt like our own little world.
Hale was quiet. For an entire minute as we stood there with only our breathing and the brush of fingertips against skin. “You’re touching me,” he said finally.
“You started it.”
I couldn’t see him smile, but I was pretty sure I heard it in his voice. “Do you want to stop?”
I shook my head, then added, “No. Not unless you want to.” I shifted closer to him, bringing my hips to his body, and feeling him rigid against my belly. His breath was against my cheek and we were so close in this confusing moment.
“I don’t.” His face was closer to mine and his nose brushed mine, his aquiline, Edison family nose just like the one on the statue in the quad. “What do you need, Piper?”
“I can’t handle everything right now. I need a distraction.”
He gulped audibly, like a cartoon character. “Okay.” His hand slid from my waist to my hip and I moved my fingers into his hair to pull me to him. Hale’s voice was almost a whisper. “What kind of distraction?”
“Piper? Hale? You down here?” Two of our cohort members shouted from outside the door and we both leaped apart, the spell broken in the dark.
Hale took another swig from his mug after dropping that little challenge and I sipped thoughtfully from my own, shaking off the memory of that closet all those years ago. He’d stepped into the hall and told the others I needed space. The next morning, I’d changed my major, but I didn’t forget what it was like to touch him in the dark. The grad student office suite wasn’t dark, but it still felt like being back in that closet and I rolled his cocky words in my head.Don’t act like you didn’t want me to do a helluva lot more than kiss you. Now or junior year.”
“Maybe while we were standing there I had a fleeting thought that the last orgasm I’d ever experience was from my own hand in the shower before I rushed to the airport. Don’t take too much credit.” If Hale’s little jab had thrown me into the throes of old memories, mine made him sputter and cough on his Scotch. I took the win.
He pounded at his chest. “Come again?”
“Well, I would if I could. Catch up, Edison.”
He nudged his finger along the top of his nose, though he wasn’t wearing glasses and I wondered if he’d gotten LASIK recently. There was something so endearing about the gesture.
“Have I scandalized you?”
