Page 34 of Seeds of Christmas
“I’m not stuck with you.”
“That’s not an answer.”
I consider lying. Pretending everything is fine. But something about the low lighting and the fact that we’re both exhausted makes me reckless with honesty
“I was worried at first,” I admit. “We didn’t exactly have a great partnership freshman year.”
He blinks. Actually blinks slowly, like he’s trying to process this information. “We were partners freshman year?”
There it is.
The confirmation that he really doesn’t remember.
My heart does a little jump into my throat, and I have to swallow it back down before I can speak.
“Intro to Earth Sciences,” I say, keeping my voice carefully neutral. “Group project on plate tectonics. We had a whole three weeks to complete it.”
I watch his face as he tries to recall—the slight furrow between his eyebrows, the way his eyes unfocus as he searches his memory—and then I see the moment it clicks.
“Oh shit.” He sits up straighter. “Oh shit. You—you did all the work, didn’t you? I completely bailed on you.”
“You had a lot of frat stuff going on,” I say, because it’s easier than explaining how I stayed up finishing our project while he was having a great time.
“That’s not an excuse.” He runs a hand through his hair, and he looks genuinely distressed. “Rhi, I’m sorry. I was a terrible partner. I was— God, I was such an asshole freshman year.”
“You weren’t an asshole. You were just... busy.”
“I forgot our second meeting because I was at a frat brunch.” He says it like a confession. “A brunch. That’s not even a good excuse. That’s not even a real meal.”
Despite myself, I laugh. “It’s a real meal.”
“It’s a fake meal invented by people who want an excuse to drink before noon.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Is that why you looked so horrified when I showed up?”
My face heats. “I didn’t look horrified.”
And no. I was horrified because I have a crush on you, you stupid handsome man. Stop noticing my horrified-ness.
“You absolutely looked horrified. Your face did this thing”—he makes an expression that I’m sure is an exaggeration—“like you’d just been sentenced to a trip in academic hell.”
“I looked... concerned.”
“About?”
“The quality of the data collection,” I say primly.
He laughs, but it sounds rueful. “Ouch. Fair, but ouch.” He says. “For what it’s worth, I’m trying to be better. This semester has been... I’m trying to actually show up to things now. To be someone people can count on.”
The vulnerability in his voice catches me off guard.
I want to ask him more, but he changes the conversation quickly.
“Anyway, geology? Do you really want to spend your life studying rocks?”
I drag my thoughts together. “I like that it’s concrete. Measurable. You can see the evidence right there in the layers, in the mineral deposits. Earth doesn’t lie to you.”
“Unlike people?”
“Yeah. Unlike people.”
