Page 272 of Burn Bright
Oh…my cheeks are on fire. I take a quick glance at the door. It’s closed. All clear. “Yes,” I say confidently. “Drop the pants.”
He opens his mouth to reply and movement catches both of our eyes. Thecockroachzips across the windowsill, and I bend down to unlace my boot.
Ben frowns. “What are you doing?”
“Getting a cockroach weapon.”
He grabs my elbow, lifting me up. “Nope, no. We’re not killing the cockroach.”
I frown. “Ben, I can’t let it live in my bedroom. That thing could be carrying bacteria. Salmonella. E. coli.”
He has his hands on both of my arms. “It’s not going to be cohabitating with you. If I can’t be your roommate, you think I’m going to let that roach take my spot?”
I fight a smile. “Okay, then what?”
“Capture and release.”
I narrow my eyes, skeptical. “Ifyou can catch it.”
“I can catch it,” he says confidently. “How about you focus on unpacking, Killer.” His smile reaches his eyes, and that’s how I know he’s not upset at me for almost murdering a living creature with my boot.
I check the time. “Crap, it’s already four.” I hurry to my printer, plugging it in. “I should sign and send the contract before end of day.”
When I meanteverythingis happening at once, I meant the biggest life choices have been madetoday.Not just with the Honors House.
My career path is set.
From one of my boxes, Ben finds a white mug that saysStill Emoin black font, and I suspect he will lure and trap the roach. While he stalks the bug, I kneel at the printer and set up the Wi-Fi feature.
I hate regrets.
So I asked myself what I would regret losing more.
Rose even helped me. Ben’s mom said to visualize myself ten years from now. I’m a doctor. After a grueling shift, I go to a concert. I’m in a crowd of adoring fans, and I watch Tom sing his heart out. I watch the drummer be where I could’ve been. Maybe it’s a sold-out arena. Maybe it’s just a handful of passionate fans.
Or I’m a drummer. I’m on-stage playing music that bleeds through my veins. I see a girl getting crushed with the masses. I might stop the show to help, but when she’s carted off in an ambulance, then taken to the ED, it’ll be the doctors who finishthe job, who see it through. I’ll return to the drums knowing that’s not me.
That I’m not a doctor. And I never will be.
It was a rock-in-the-throat decision. Both scenarios added grief. But only one sunk my stomach to extreme pits.
I pull up a document on my phone and hit the print button. The machine rumbles to life and a HIPAA form ejects onto the tray.
I’m choosing medicine.
I would regret never trying to become a physician a thousand times more, I realized. Because I will always hear Tom’s music. I believe in my heart of hearts it’ll be made regardless of whether I’m behind the drumkit or not. I’d be giving up so much more by saying goodbye to medicine.
Being a doctor ismydream. And I’m following it.
I met Tom at his apartment this morning. Just to drop the news. He gave me theStill Emomug thinking he’d be welcoming me to the band.
I gave the mug back. “I’m not joining The Carraways.”
He barely blinked. He was in shock. “Harriet?—”
“You wrote an amazing song, dude,” I interjected fast. “You don’t need me to make music. You’ll find someone else. I know you will, and I’m going to be seriously mad if you don’t record your song. Because it deserves to be heard. So you better not give up on The Carraways.”
He let out a long, excruciating sigh, then placed the mug back in my opened palm.
