Page 129 of Burn Bright
His jaw muscle tics when he notices me staring. He’s giving me a brutal look. “Don’t judge me, man.”
“I didn’t say a word,” I defend.
“You have that look.” He takes a seat on the other cushion beside Harriet and hands her a beer. “Okay, I’m not an alcoholic just because my dad is one—and yeah, it is hereditary, but I havezerosigns of addiction. So cheers.” He lifts the beer, then takes a bitter swig. His brows pinch afterward. Guilt for being an asshole causes him to slump back into the couch.
My muscles flex, and I sit more on the edge of the cushion. Well, this is blowing up really fucking fast.
Harriet glances cautiously between us. “So…should we talk about Ovid’sMetamorphosesor the fifty-ton elephant in the room?”
“Have you read it yet?” I ask Xander, choosing the easy subject matter—our presentation topic.
“I read one of the translations four years ago.” It’s a Roman epic poem originally in Latin. “You?”
I shake my head. “I know most of the poems. Ovid gets mentioned so much, he might as well be a tenth member of my family.” I flip the cap of my water bottle. “Of what I remember, it’s mostly about the gods being immoral and how they inadvertently inflict pain upon others.” I glance at Harriet.
She sinks back. “Don’t look at me. I haven’t even gotten the book yet.” She sips her beer.
Xander picks at the label on his glass bottle. “Yeah, but I don’t think we should focus the presentation on that aspect. Ovid isn’t like Homer where there’s a clear epic hero. There’s no Achilles or Odysseus, no courageous battletested warriors to root for. Instead, he shows us that we’re all flawed. Gods and mortals alike.”
I frown. “So there aren’t any heroes?”
“No, there is,” Xander says. “I think at the foundation of every poem, the hero is love.”
“Love?”
“Yeah, and change. It’s literally calledMetamorphoses.I think there’s a quote too.” He squints at the ceiling in thought. “‘What we have been, or now are, we shall not be tomorrow.’” He nods. “Something like that.” He shrugs. “I just think it’s a more interesting concept.”
“I’m down,” Harriet says.
Love and Change as heroes? I don’t know what I feel. My brain speeds beyond me. “Yeah, sure.”
“Or, I mean, if you want to go in a different direction after you read it, I’m open to anything. Ireallydon’t want to be the one to say more than a couple words when we present. It’ll be a miracle if my voice doesn’t shake.”
“I’ve got you covered. I can memorize whatever.” Public speaking has never been hard for me.
He eases, then nods in thanks.
Harriet frowns at her beer. “The presentation is one of the last big grades for the course.”
“Yeah…?” I don’t follow where she’s going.
“Professor Wellington hasn’t set a date yet, but it’ll probably be toward the end of the semester. Like November or December.”When I’m gone,she doesn’t add.
I sit up a little stiffer. “Maybe it’ll be October.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Xander isn’t catching onto the problem. Easton calling me out for ditching people comes crashing back.
To bail or not to bail? I hate that sticking around feels more fatal somehow, but I can’t even picture leaving Xander or Harriet alone in front of two hundred students. She might break out in hives, and I could so easily carry the weight of the presentation for them.
I’ll be there.
I’ll make it. I have to make it. I can make it.
Another swig, more water washes down my throat. Cooling me off, and then an awkward silence passes between us.
“I think the elephant is back,” Harriet says casually. “You have a name for him?”
