Page 10 of Prince Material
Orson leaned in. “And now?”
“Electric pumps, mostly. Though we keep the windmills maintained. They’re our back-up system if the power fails.” I swiped to another picture. “This is the Oosterscheldekering. It’s my favorite part of the Delta Works.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because it’s a perfect balance of engineering and ecology. They originally planned to dam up the entire estuary, but environmentalists pointed out it would most likely destroy the ecosystem. So instead, they built this storm surge barrier that lets water flow through normally but can close when needed. That meant the ecosystem wasn’t impacted, thus saving many species, including our beloved mussels.” I realized I was rambling and felt heat creep up my neck. “Sorry, I get a bit excited about this stuff.”
“Don’t apologize.” My breath caught as Orson leaned closer, his shoulder brushing mine as he studied the picture on my phone. The contact sent a shiver down my spine that hadnothing to do with the fan blasting air at me. This close, I could smell the faint scent of his shampoo: something clean and citrusy. “It’s refreshing to meet someone else who understands why this matters.”
I was just going to pretend I wasn’t impacted by his presence at all. I could do that, right? “This is the Maeslantkering, another part of the Delta Works. Those arms are about as long as the Eiffel Tower is tall.”
“Holy shit,” he breathed, and I couldn’t help but grin at his obvious fascination. “And it moves?”
“Yep. When there’s a storm surge, they swing shut to protect Rotterdam’s harbor. The whole thing is automated, with computers monitoring the water levels and weather conditions.” I paused, remembering something. “Actually, after Katrina, some American engineers came to study our system and we sent Dutch engineers to New Orleans to advise.”
The mention of Katrina made Orson tense beside me. Was that a sore topic for him? He must’ve been old enough to experience it. Had it been traumatic? Not something I wanted to ask him about now, but I filed it away for future reference.
“Unfortunately, little of it was implemented,” Orson said, his face tight.
“I’m sure it was complicated. The Mississippi Delta is very different from the situation in my country.”
Orson let out a heavy sigh, one that seemed charged with a lot more than mere frustration. “It wasn’t that. It was about the cost and politics, and ultimately, about the decision that money mattered more than people’s lives… and preventing another Katrina.”
The bitterness in his voice caught me off guard. This wasn’t academic interest; this was personal. I wanted to ask more, but something in his expression warned me off. Instead, I checkedmy phone again and groaned. “Speaking of preventing disasters, I should probably head to class before I’m late. Again.” I stuffed my books into my backpack. “Thanks for rescuing my laundry, by the way. I’ll try to be more responsible next time.”
“No problem.” He was already back to his textbook, that moment of vulnerability gone like it had never happened.
I grabbed my coffee, accidentally knocking over a pile of books I’d left precariously balanced on my desk. They crashed to the floor with a sound like thunder.
Orson jumped. “Jesus Christ!”
“Sorry, sorry!” I scrambled to pick them up. “I’ll organize these properly later, I promise.”
His sigh was equal parts exasperation and resignation. “You said that yesterday. And the day before.”
“I mean it this time?” I tried my most winning smile, the one that usually got me out of trouble.
“Your chaos is migrating,” he pointed out, gesturing to where one of my hoodies had somehow ended up on his perfectly made bed. “I’m starting to think you’re actually a very tall tornado disguised as a person.”
Heat crept up my neck. “I’ll fix it. Really. As soon as I’m done with classes today.”
“Sure.” His tone suggested he didn’t believe me, and honestly? Fair enough. “Though you might want to do something about your hair first.”
“What’s wrong with my hair?” I patted it cautiously, then caught my reflection in my phone screen. “Oh, fuck me.”
The humidity had turned my usually manageable waves into something that looked like I’d stuck my finger in an electrical socket. No wonder Orson had given me an amused look. I made a futile attempt to tame it with my fingers, but it sprang right back up like some sort of demented jack-in-the-box.
I sighed deeply. “This is my life now. I’ll just tell everyone it’s a bold fashion statement.”
That earned me a snort from Orson. “You could try using product.”
“I did right when I got out of the shower. The humidity ate it.” I shouldered my backpack, accepting defeat. “The weather here is personally offended by my hair’s existence. I’m convinced of it.”
“Welcome to New England. Where the weather’s made up and the seasons don’t matter.”
“Did you make a joke?” I gasped in mock horror. “Quick, someone check if hell’s frozen over.”
“I contain multitudes.” His deadpan delivery was perfect, but I caught the slight quirk at the corner of his mouth. “Now go be late for class.”
