Page 4 of Crash Landing
I lifted my head again and whined. “Yeah, but what if the results are out?”
“What if they are? You’ll see them when we go back. For now, have another cup of oversweet coffee the way you like since no one is looking, and just relax.”
“Relax?” I finished my latte and pushed the empty mug aside. “I can’t relax. If I don’t start going somewhere, I’m going to go crazy. I want to be important.”
“Don’t we all? But you can’t force something that—”
Both of our phones started buzzing before he could finish his sentence. I immediately tore mine out of my pocket to check the screen as soon as it lit up. A list of students who had beenaccepted into the internship positions had finally been released. Silence gripped us both as we skimmed over the names. Seven in total littered my screen. I read them so fast, I almost got dizzy.
Then I read them again…
After my third readthrough, Thomas slowly looked up at me and set his phone face down on the table. I could feel his pity in his silence and bitterly shoved my phone into my pocket.
Don’t cry.
Taking a deep breath, I waved the cute waitress over to order another extra sugary, creamy latte with chocolate shavings and then turned back around to pretend I was ok. I couldn’t look at Thomas quite yet, though. When people felt sorry for me, I could see it in their eyes and it usually just made me emotional.
“It’s fine,” I lied. “I guess I know now and I can start getting over it.”
I was prone to self-pity. It was a habit I was trying desperately to kick. Self-pity led to drugs and a slew of other things that wasted a decade of my life. All the time I put into feeling sorry for myself was time I couldn’t fix things.
I just had to try harder.
“Hey,” Thomas comforted, slapping me on the shoulder. “Something is bound to happen. This wasn’t your moment, which means your moment is coming.”
I faked a smile and cleared my throat, gulping down the last of my ice water before the waitress brought my foamy latte.
“Yeah,” I forced. “Yeah, it’ll happen. This is fine.”
We sat in that coffee shop for another couple of hours making up meaningless conversation and talking shit about the recruits chosen for the positions. It was catty and rude, but it made me feel better. Not that I worked harder than anyone or that the people chosen didn’t deserve it as much as I did. I was just being selfish. In the morning, I’d be back to work, drinkingblack coffee, and finding another path. But in that coffee shop, I was my old, bitchy self and Thomas was happy enough to join.
He was a good friend. Not a replacement for Innifer, but a close second.
By the time we decided to head over to the nearest shopping center and kill some time buying clothes we probably wouldn’t wear, I felt marginally better about my rejection. I could live with it. I’d dealt with worse.
“So, next week is the presentation on the Fellmor Project and some scientists from the Nexus are coming planetside to guest speak,” Thomas said. “I figured we could go together.”
“Obviously. I’d be a wreck without you if I had to see people from the Nexus.”
“You’ll be a wreck anyway, but at least I can hold your arms if you try to storm the stage.”
I laughed at how true that statement was. I really was a walking scene. I was also working on that…
If Thomas didn’t have a boyfriend studying fashion design in Paris, I probably would have made a move on him. Hell, the old me would have done it anyway, but again, I was a big work in progress. He loved his boyfriend. They talked almost every day and their disgustingly cute conversations sometimes made me sick and hopeful at the same time.
Damn, I was lonely. And pathetic. I was lonethetic.
I rolled my eyes at my own inner thoughts as the big silver building cluster came into view. We were back on campus already and I was about to cry myself to sleep.
Until our phones went off again. We both pulled them out with less enthusiasm to see an urgent announcement sprawled across the screen.
Due to personal reasons, Rebecca Yaris will be reassigned to next year’s internship positions. Replacing her will be student, Samantha Worthington.
My jaw dropped. I stopped walking, bags of clothes hanging loosely in my grip.
“Holy shit,” Thomas muttered.
“Holy shit,” I mimicked. “Holy shit!”
