Chapter Text
“Ol? You’re here? Was the date that bad? Why didn’t you send me an SOS? I would’ve come to your rescue. Listen, they don’t deserve you. You’re amazing and incredible and beautiful and brilliant and…”
Olive listened as the words flew from her best friend’s mouth. She was in no hurry to stop Anh, in fact, the longer the other woman continued with her rambly rant, the more time Olive had to try to figure out what to tell her. About the date. The date that hadn’t really existed. The date she’d made up in an effort to finally convince Anh that she, Olive Smith, was well and truly over Jeremy.
Not that Olive had really ever been into Jeremy. Their relationship had lasted about as long as a bag of milk. And in all honesty, she probably would’ve been more attracted to the bag of milk. Plus, the bag of milk wouldn’t have spent months pestering her for a date only to lose interest as soon as it noticed Anh existed. Olive tried not to resent that, but it would’ve been nice if Jeremy had noticed Anh before he’d spent all that time trying to convince Olive to give him a chance.
Anh finally took a breath and looked at Olive expectantly. Olive tried to look casual as she shrugged and replied, “It was fine.”
Anh’s eyes narrowed, “Fine? Really? And that’s why you’re here?”
This is why lying to our friends is bad, the little voice in her head chastised her. She was going to have to come up with another lie, and it was clear that Anh already didn’t believe her. The entire original lie was going to fall apart and Olive was going to have to figure out another way to convince Anh to get together with Jeremy.
Olive hoped her smile didn’t look as forced as it felt as she replied, “Really. I just had to…” Her words trailed off as she desperately scrambled for an explanation for being in the building.
And then it happened.
Footsteps sounded behind her and then someone was walking by. Without thinking, Olive reached for their hand before they could get away and tugged them back. She had no idea who she’d grabbed and hoped that they’d play along. “See, my date. Happy now?”
Olive became aware of two things, almost simultaneously. 1. Anh’s face transformed. Gone was the skeptical look, replaced by one of sheer shock complete with cheeks going pale. 2. The hand she’d grabbed dwarfed hers. It was warm and the fingers flexed for a moment before returning her hold.
The scent that drifted from the body now at rest next to hers was familiar. Pleasant. A scent that always reminded her of that day, nearly three years earlier, when a chance encounter had helped her know for sure she was on the right path. Now, she was holding hands with the man that had been there with her, and lying through her teeth.
This was going to end spectacularly.
Anh still looked stunned, but the skepticism returned to her voice as she asked, “This is your date?”
Olive forced herself to hold Anh’s gaze and tried to make words come out of her mouth. There were none. To her own shock and surprising relief, the hand she held gave hers another squeeze, and then its owner said, “Yes, her date. She was kind enough to let me take a detour from our evening in order to drop off something in my office.” Then she could sense his eyes focus on the top of her head as he asked, “You ready to go?”
Her thoughts were an absolute jumble and words were still not cooperating. All she could do was nod.
He stepped forward pulling her along with him. She gave Anh an apologetic smile as she passed by. Then she was down the hallway, following the long strides of the man who still held her hand. A turn. Another hallway. She nearly crashed into him as he came to a stop. He turned so he was facing her and she slowly lifted her eyes to meet his. To her surprise, none of the emotions she anticipated were there. No rage, no irritation. Just curiosity. Horror overwhelmed her as the full reality of what she’d done hit her. Words raced out of her mouth, “I’m so, so sorry, Dr. Carlsen! I had no idea…I mean I didn’t realize you were…If I’d know who’s hand…Please don’t–”
He held up his hand and stopped her mid-babble, “I’m your date?”
She shook her head, “No, of course not.”
An eyebrow lifted, “Then why did you inform the other student I was?”
She sighed, her eyes dropped, landing where their hands were still joined. It was odd seeing her hand locked with someone else’s. Why are you still holding his hand? With a jolt, she let go and watched as his hand followed suit a second later.
A shudder ran through her. The most powerful man in the department now had enough ammunition to ruin her entire life. She’d probably be kicked out of Stanford by morning. And then what? No school would mean returning to Canada. It would be cold and snowy and she probably wouldn’t be able to find a job. She’d be alone with nothing. Beavers would use her bones to build their dams. That was something beavers did, right? This is why lying to our friends is bad, the voice inside sang out again.
He cleared his throat and it pulled her out of the doom spiral. Her eyes were fixated on the floor. It was easier to look at their shoes than at his face. Carefully, she picked her words, “I’m sorry, Dr. Carlsen. Anh, my friend, caught me off-guard. She wasn’t supposed to be here tonight.”
“I see.” His tone suggested that he didn’t really see, and Olive risked glancing up at him. He was watching her, eyes still filled with curiosity.
A little braver, remembering the last time they’d spoken, she took a chance that maybe he wasn’t going to call campus security immediately. “I told her I couldn’t hang out tonight because I had a date. I was hoping she’d finally ask out Jeremy, but she didn’t.”
Dr. Carlsen crossed his arms and his expression shifted to that of a teacher growing impatient, “I fail to see how any of that is connected.”
Olive took a deep breath, hoping what she was about to say wouldn’t sound crazy, “Anh and Jeremy like each other. A few months ago, Jeremy and I went out a few times. I can tell that they want to date each other, but Anh doesn’t believe that I’m really over him. I keep telling her I never was that into him from the beginning, but she doesn’t want to hurt me and says I’m just putting on a brave face. So, I thought that if she thought I was on a date, she’d finally accept that I’m really okay with all of this.”
He studied her for a few moments after she finished speaking, then asked, “You’re lying so your friend will date your ex?”
She shrugged and nodded, “Basically. Listen, I just knew someone was walking past me, I had no idea whose hand I’d grabbed.”
A slight frown touched his lips, “I see. So, it wouldn’t have mattered who I was.”
Olive bit her lip, “Like I said, I’m really sorry.”
He slowly nodded but said nothing. Instead, he continued to stare at her. Almost like he thought she was some kind of puzzle he needed to figure out. A few beats of silence passed, then he asked, “Aysegul is your advisor, correct?”
Olive’s stomach cramped with knots. Miserably, she nodded, “Yeah. Please don’t tell her about this. I swear it was an accident.”
What would happen if he told on her? What would she face? Would it just be a reprimand, or would they kick her out? The knots pulled tighter and she forced herself to acknowledge that he was a professor and she was but a lowly grad student. Heart heavy, she added, “Actually, what I did was inappropriate. I had no right to force you to participate in my lie. You’re completely within your right to tell.”
The fear of what might occur due to her actions became too much. She turned and sprinted down the hallway. The more distance between Dr. Carlsen and herself the better. She’d ruined any chance she’d ever have to tell him just how much he’d changed her life. It would be impossible to ever speak to him again. Her cheeks burned with frustration and anger at herself.
She ran out the front door. The warm night air enveloped her and her feet pounded against the ground. Everything became a blur, and she stopped focusing on her surroundings. Her feet took over and led her home to the small apartment she shared with Malcolm and the occasional cockroach that would fearlessly run through the living room.
Her mattress bounced a little as she collapsed onto it. She pulled a blanket over herself and lay in the dark. Muffled noises came from Malcolm’s room, and she slipped on her noise-canceling headphones.
Blessed silence surrounded her. Above her, a faint green glow lit the ceiling from the cheap glow-in-the-dark stars she’d stuck up there ages ago. She flexed her fingers and the memory of how it had felt holding Dr. Carlsen’s hand slipped into her mind. Questions flooded her. Why had holding his hand felt so good? So natural? How long would he have let her hold his hand? Why hadn’t he let go first?
One question rose to the surface, drowning out all others.
How much trouble was she in?