Page 24 of Fault Line

“Fine. Suit yourself.”

“Have fun,” I call after her as she leaves my room, a twinge of regret hitting me as the door clicks shut.

And while I sit here alone, I ruminate on my outburst from the other day. Deep down, I know I was being harsh, but it’s difficult to let go of the anxiety I’m feeling about the whole situation.

The idea of having to share my time with Holden unnerves me, and I can’t seem to shake the feeling. It doesn’t help that he poked at one of my deepest insecurities, either.

I was only halfway lying to Lizzie earlier. Holden can form whatever opinion he wants about me, and it’s not gonna be the thing that keeps me up at night. I’m well aware that I’m not really a spoiled brat, even though my older sister has been hurling that same phrase at me my entire life.

But she’s always been wrong, and so is Holden.

What’s the problem with wanting everything to go according to plan? Isn’t that the purpose of setting goals in the first place? If I’ve worked hard for something, if I’ve genuinely earned it, then rest assured, I’ll be getting what I deserve in the end.

Every last piece of it.

* * *

After a weekendof isolating myself in my apartment, I make my way to Dr. Khatri’s office, my stomach in knots. She sent us an email requesting a meeting after class, and it’s been eating at me all day. I know it’s only preliminary, but my nerves are still getting the best of me.

I’ve been to her office hours countless times, yet I can’t help but be intimidated by her. She’s a brilliant woman, and I feel fortunate to have her as my advisor, despite having to share her time.

As I enter the lobby outside of her office, I spot Holden kicking his feet back on the bench, calm and collected as per usual. I take a silent seat next to him, refusing to acknowledge his presence. Some people may deem my behavior petty, but at this moment, I’m beyond caring.

“Hey,” he greets me with a tilt of his chin. “Heard you almost graced us with your presence on Saturday night.”

The audacity of this man astounds me. He’s acting as if nothing happened between us, as if our heated argument was a figment of my imagination. And yet here I am, still reeling from the confrontation.

“Hm.” I give him a noncommittal grunt.

“Your roommate, Lucy, said she tried to drag you out of your little hidey-hole.” He chuckles, low and deep. “But you just wouldn’t budge, would ya?”

“Her name’s Lizzie,” I say, my frustration mounting. “And did you really think I’d show up? Come congratulate you on your big win? Maybe this time, you could call me a brat in front of all your friends.”

“Actually, I was just hoping you’d call me baby again.”

I shake my head at him in disgust, but a tiny flush of heat creeps up my neck. “Yeah, doesn’t pack the same punch without a trust fund in front of it.”

Just as he’s about to retort, the office door swings open in front of us. We quietly follow Dr. Khatri inside, and she begins with an overview of our respective proposals.

As I listen to Holden droning on, I realize why this pairing might make more sense than I initially assumed. Dr. Khatri didn’t only choose us because we both wanted her but also because our projects are similar in nature.

While Holden’s focus is on minimally invasive treatment for Parkinson’s, mine’s centered around brain stim for depression. It’s interesting, actually, the way he describes the implantation through blood vessels. Apparently, it’s a viable alternative to the current procedure, which is intrusive, painful, and causes permanent damage.

The method he wants to research would eliminate the need for a craniotomy altogether. Even I’ll admit it sounds fascinating, important, well worth the research.

As we delve further into the details, Dr. Khatri asks us about our progress with the lit review process.

“I’m still sifting through the existing literature, trying to better shape my initial research question,” I say, straightening my spine. “It’s a lot to work through, but I’m slowly making progress.”

“I’m also in the same boat,” Holden chimes in. “I’m trying to narrow down my question and search terms at the moment.”

“Good. Those are crucial steps.” Dr. Khatri says, jotting down a few notes on the pad in front of her. “And Holden, am I right in saying that you’ve already connected with some outside collaborators?”

He nods his agreement. Although it’s not a typical requirement for students, I already feel embarrassed by my lack of preparation.

“I was planning on doing that soon,” I awkwardly add. “Did you have any suggestions or connections that you wanted to pass along?”

“Definitely,” she kindly agrees. “I also have some ideas for you, Holden, if you’re open to working with some of my colleagues.”

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