Chapter Fifteen

Hannah

My dad lingers forever when he’s dropping me off at the dorm Sunday afternoon. Thanksgiving break was rough. Not Dad— Dad’s always great. The hard part was keeping up this front that everything is fine.

There’s a chance that things are still fine. A slim one. Right now, I’m failing chem. Failing. Technically, if I ace the final, I can pull out a passing grade, but I haven’t aced anything so far, so I’m not holding my breath.

All that hard work and potential and I’m falling apart. Even if I manage to pass the class, I’ll be out of the Honors Program. And the worst thing is the possibility of leaving the program doesn’t upset me like it should. If anything, it’d be a relief. The choice I’m terrified to make would make itself.

For the whole long weekend, I tried to tell Dad, but the words lodged in my throat. So I didn’t tell him, and now I’m back at school, still pretending everything is okay.

Is this what it’s like for Ben? At least my dad isn’t an asshole about it, which kind of makes me feel even worse. If he were mean, it’d be so much easier to forget about how disappointed he’ll be in me. Hey, Dad, remember all that work and all those years you poured into me, preparing me for my amazing future as a scientist? Never mind.

Ugh. My heart hurts just imagining that conversation.

I’m desperate for Dad to leave so I can escape this guilt and anxiety and so I can see Ben. Maybe I’m being irresponsible, running to Ben so I don’t have to deal with this big, unpleasant reality, but I don’t care. Ever since he called me on Thanksgiving, I’ve been practically crawling out of my skin waiting to see him again.

“Did you get everything out of the trunk?” Dad runs a hand through his hair, which he’s always worn a little long and shaggy, both for a chemist and a dad.

“Yeah, Dad.”

“And the backseat?”

“Yep.”

“Your coat, too? It was back there—”

“Dad. I got it.”

He gives me a sheepish smile. “You’re ready for me to clear out now, aren’t you?”

“No! It’s not that. I just kinda want to go see my friends.”

“Friends? Any particular friend? Maybe the friend you’ve been electronically connected to all weekend?” He’s teasing me. There’s a smile dancing around the corners of his mouth.

I roll my eyes. “Maybe.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going.” He pats his pockets for his keys and turns slowly in a circle, looking for anything he might be forgetting. My dad is brilliant but so absent-minded he’s practically a hazard to himself. Without Mom, I had to step up early to keep the two of us and our house on track. I worry about him sometimes, now that I’ve left for college.

He finds his keys, a flicker of triumph crossing his face, and then he turns serious. “Be safe, okay? Call me if you need anything.”

My smile fades as heat crawls up the back of my neck. “I will. Don’t worry.”

“A parent’s default setting is worry, Hannah. But I trust you. I know you’ll be just fine.”

I have to tell him. And I will, just not today, not when Ben is here, a few blocks away. We hug again, he kisses the top of my head, presses a twenty into my hand, and then he’s gone.

And so am I. The door barely clicks behind him before I tear through my room, brush my hair, slick on a little pink lipstick and a bit of mascara, and chomp on a breath mint—just in case.

Oh please let there be an in case…

I shrug back into my coat and fly out of my dorm. Ben said he’d come over after he gets off work, but that’s still four hours away, and I’m going to go out of my mind waiting until then. We texted all weekend, but now I need more than words. I need him.

Coming into Prometheus feels like coming home. It’s warm and smells of dust and old paper. It’s a scent I associate viscerally with Ben— When I inhale deeply, my body tingles.

I find Ben behind the register, squinting at his computer screen, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his face bathed in blue light. This weekend and all the things he said still feel like a dream. I’m half expecting him to look up and smile at me like a friend—make out session forgotten—before picking out another book for me to read.

But when Ben looks up, the smile that explodes across his face reassures me that everything he said this weekend was real. He’s not looking at me like a friend.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hey. When did you get back?”

“Just now.”

He grins and slides from behind the register. I cross the front of the store, and we stop awkwardly, a foot apart. What should we do? Where should we touch? Can we even do anything here, in the middle of the store?

“Is Adele here?” I whisper.

“Upstairs, organizing the kids’ books,” he whispers back.

“Oh.” I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face.

He shouts back over his shoulder and in the general direction of the upstairs loft. “I’ll be in the back, Adele. Keep an eye on the register?”

“Okay.” Her voice floats down, faint and far away. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

And here we thought we were going to get away with it.

Ben chuckles and grabs my hand before pulling me to the back of the store, down the aisle with ethics and philosophy. Nobody ever comes down this aisle. He stops and faces me, just inches away. It’s kind of dim back here, since there’s been a bulb burned out for ages and no one’s bothered to replace it.

“Hey,” Ben says again, but this time his voice is different. Low and private. He takes my other hand in his and laces our fingers together, palm-to-palm.

Something ignites in me, and I take a step closer. “Hey,” I whisper.

“I missed you,” he says. It makes my heart light up like a candle.

“I missed you, too.”

“Hannah?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to go out sometime?”

And it’s so ridiculous that he’s asking me out on a date after everything—all the time we’ve spent together, the phone call this weekend, everything he said, and the intense make out session we already had. I giggle. “Really? A date?”

“Hey,” he protests. “I’m trying to do this right. You have a better idea?”

I release his fingers and wrap my hands around his wrists. God, I love his wrists. Then I slide my hands up his arms to his surprisingly solid shoulders. His hoodie, my favorite worn navy blue one, is soft under my fingers, and he smells so good, like hot chocolate and old books, which has to be the best smell to ever exist. “How about you just kiss me?”

He cradles my face in his hands. “That works, too, I guess.”

His lips touch mine, a soft, gentle exploration. He’s kissing me like this is our first kiss. Because it should have happened just like this, in this dark aisle in this magic bookstore, with this boy I’m pretty sure I’m already in love with.