Maybe she’s right; maybe the scars are less pronounced than I remember.
I’ve spent the better part of my life learning not to care about my physical appearance.
And the truth is, I suspect the scars wouldn’t matter to Holly either. She’s not that superficial.
She’s vibrant and charming, caring and complex. She’s loved and admired by everyone who knows her. I, on the other hand, am feared by nearly everyone.
No, Holly might not care about my physical scars at all. But I have plenty of other qualities, plenty of other defects in my personality, to drive her away.
Ultimately, there’s no point in trying to hide the scars on my face, when there’s nothing I can do about the flaws that actually scare people off.
“I’ll text you the address of the barbershop,” she tells me, opening the car door. Before she climbs in, she says, “It wouldn’t kill you to text me back to let me know you’ve received it.”
“Okay,” I say again, feeling even more stupid. But then I step forward and ask, “What about my soil samples? Can I have them?”
She tips her head to the side as if considering the matter. “Of course. Tomorrow. After the beard is trimmed.”
“Holly—”
She just laughs and shakes her head. “You heard me. I’m not falling for your sad, regretful biologist act. You’ll get them back when you’re less hairy.”
Still smiling smugly, she shuts the car door.
That’s when it hits me. She’s enjoying this.
Not just that . . . but I’m enjoying this too.
And I don’t know which is more shocking.
No one ever does that. No one ever jokes with me.
No one enjoys my company.
Maybe Tavey, I guess. But she’s my sister. She has to put up with me.
All my life, my intelligence had set me apart from others.
It’s not that I’m better than other people. Just . . . different. Meant for bigger things.
I don’t mean to be a dick about it. It’s just a fact of life. Some people go through the world just living their lives, caught up in the minutia of social media and TV and whatever the fuck normal people cared about.
My life was bigger than that. My job was bigger than that.
I was pulling back the curtain to reveal the inner workings of a universe humanity hadn’t even known existed fifty years ago. That’s what I was put on this earth to do: to improve the human race by uncovering knowledge through scientific discovery and hard work.
Yes, it set me apart from others. I’d always been okay with that. Because I knew it was important. Not just important, but the most important thing I could be doing with my time.
I had never doubted that. Ever.
Until now.
Until I saw what Holly did with her time.
Chapter 17
Holly
Itext Max as soon as I get in the house.
