Page 26 of Nothing to Fear
Another loss on our record, and I don’t feel anything otherthan angst and pressure to get back to Massachusetts and down to the archives without being late. Coach is pissed; my teammates are all forlorn. I led them to defeat, and I should feel like shit about it, but I’m more concerned with how Asher is going to feel if I don’t show up at nine for our session.
The bus ride back to Corvus is a torturous hour and a half. I take a seat in the front of the bus so I’m one of the first ones off, sitting against the window and pushing my earbuds in. My knee bounces uncontrollably as I compulsively check the time on my phone, watching as the minutes go by at a snail’s pace.
As we’re pulling into the parking lot, I pull out my phone and look at the time—10:02. Fuck. I fire off a quick text to Eli, telling him I have someplace I have to be and to grab my bag. I’m at the door of the bus before it’s even opened, sliding through once there’s just enough space for my body. My feet hit the pavement, and I race through the parking lot, through the quad, and straight to the library. My thighs and ribs burn from the impact of the game, but I don’t stop, needing to get down to the archives and apologize to Asher.
The moment I’m in the library, I slow to a reasonable pace, not wanting to draw any attention to myself as I slip into the back of the theology wing and release the book of whispers to the entrance. The door cranks open with a moan, and I slip inside, hoping like hell I’m not too late and he understands. I don’t want to take one step forward and ten steps back. He’ll understand. He has to.
My heavy footfalls stomp quickly down the spiral steps to reach the underbelly of the library, nearly breaking my neck as I swiftly spin downward. Jumping off the last few steps, I nearly eat shit as I stumble forward.
I know I look like a madman as I jog through the archives, coming to a stop as soon as I see Asher leaning against one of the bookcases with his arms crossed. His black hair is perfectlydisheveled, and he’s wearing a pair of black denim jeans and a grey plaid button-down that clings to him in all the right places.
Everything I had planned to say goes right out the window as I look at him standing there like a Greek god.
“Hey,” I say awkwardly, running my hands through my sweaty hair, feeling slightly self-conscious.
“That’s it? Hey? That’s all you got?”
Shit.
“The game, I had to go, and then we lost, and Coach flipped out, then there was traffic on the way back. I got here as soon as I could,” I ramble nervously.
“I had shit to do tonight, too,” he snaps, his arms falling down to his sides. “Instead, I was down here waiting for you.”
I knew that facing a pissed off Asher was a chance, but my hopes of being able to explain are squashed as we face off.
“It’s not like I had a choice, Asher! I can’t skip the games, and we were in Connecticut! I got back as fast as I could. What do you have going on that’s so important? More study time? I think you’re good. You’re already the damn best!” I taunt, falling back into the comfortable role of being an asshole.
I should have braced for this, but instead, I stupidly thought I could explain why I’m so late and everything would be okay. Isn’t that what friends do? They mess up and can be forgiven? Be understanding of each other’s shortcomings?
“Are you serious, Silas? You can be so goddamn arrogant. We are not the same! I don’t have daddy and mommy to fall back on! It’s this or nothing for me. Failing was never an option. Unlike you, I’ve had to work hard every second of my life! You just get to bat your eyelashes at your parents, and suddenly whatever you want falls in your lap. Fuck off, you privileged, spoiled brat! I’m done with this shit. Figure it out on your own, or don’t. I don’t care anymore.”
My head jerks back, stunned as Asher grabs his backpack and slings it over his shoulder, stomping away from me as my heart falls into the pit of my stomach.
“You’re just going to leave?”
“Isn’t that exactly what you’ve done to me time and time again? It’s my turn.”
He’s right. Why would he stay? Asher disappears around the corner, his footfalls slowly fading away until there’s nothing but the rush of blood between my ears, my heartbeat thumping wildly behind my ribs.
“FUCK!” I yell into the empty chamber, my voice echoing loudly around me. I sit down on the cold stone floor, resting my back against the wall as I give in to the despair. Why the hell does everything have to be so hard? Why can’t I let go of everything holding me back from being who I want to be and just live? Asher makes it look so easy, and I’ve spent so long wanting the life he’s living. Why can’t I find the courage to step out into the light and live my truth? Why is fear running my life?
I don’t realize the tears have started until they’re falling down my face, trickling onto the floor. I lose track of how long I spend down in the archives, admonishing myself for being twenty-one and not having a clue about how to embrace who I am to the world without fear of the unknown.
Chapter 11
Silas
The next day comes the same as always, but this time, with a heavy dose of guilt. Asher’s voice replays through my mind. He’s right. I’ve lived a privileged life and haven’t wanted for anything, including my admission to Corvus. I was born into a wealthy family, grew up in a massive home with maids and a chef. My first car was a brand-new Mercedes, for fuck’s sake. Based on what Asher said, he grew up completely differently, which makes me realize how little I actually know about him.
A fact I desperately want to change.
My heart splinters as I lie in bed, staring up at the blank white ceiling. Thoughts of how different Asher and I are plague my mind. I’m not sheltered enough to believe that everyone is as privileged as I am, but Corvus is a private, elite college, and I, clearly wrongfully, assumed everyone who attended here had a similar upbringing to me. Motivation is definitely different when you don’t have anything or anyone to fall back on.
I should have put it together when he shared with me thathe was raised by a single mom, but my brain just didn’t compute; too busy hanging onto every crumb he was giving me. Until I couldn’t take the heat like a fucking idiot.
Prepared to make amends and apologize, I do something I’ve never done before, skip practice, and sneak into the archives and hope like hell he studies down here every day like I think he does. It’s not our typical day for tutoring, but I’m almost positive this place is so important to him that he spends a lot of time in here with his head buried in books.
As I sit here waiting for him, I don’t feel an ounce of regret over skipping practice. Rugby has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. I love being on the field, but lately, it seems like a chore, like something Ihaveto do rather than something I love.
