Page 123 of The Tartan Thesis

“What do you think?” I ask. I used to be so good at reading him, but now I have no idea how to interpret his expression.

“You should’ve had a better award,” he says, then his eyes finally meet mine.

“What?” I look at the certificate, then back at Torin.

“I mean, yours is accurate—don’t get me wrong—but it doesn’t recognize your intelligence, the work you’ve put in, how much you achieved your first year. The way you care about everyone around you… even if they don’t deserve it.”

“Torin, you don’t have to—”

“Aye, I really do,” he says, setting his beer down too hard on the counter. A couple of heads turn. He swallows before saying, “You’re a good person, Beau.”

“What the—”

“I just”—his eyes return to his shoes—“wanted you to know that.”

I gape at him, blinking rapidly as Maeve continues to hand out mock awards. He stands there a beat longer before looking up, nodding, and brushing past me. I turn and watch as he marches to the door and leaves without a backward glance.

I shower when I get home, allowing the white noise of the flowing water to comfort me, its warmth easing my tense muscles. What did Torin mean?

You’re a good person, Beau.

And what about the rest of his speech? My intelligence? Last time we really talked, he’d told me in no uncertain terms just how dumb he thought I was. And caring about people that don’t deserve it… I’m sure he was talking about himself, but if he was trying to tell me something definitive, he should’ve provided way more context.

I shut off the water and stand there a second longer than necessary, droplets running down my back, waiting for something to click into place. Nothing does.

I dry off and go through the motions, moisturizing and continuing to ponder his intentions, but none of my expensive lotions and serums seem to have any answers.

I enter my bedroom. Hairy Styles Jr. is waiting for me, perched on my bedside table. He’s staring at me with glass eyes, his plush fur sticking out in all directions from constant attention and snuggles. I’d needed someone to hold when Torin left, and this little guy had come to my rescue.

I sit on the edge of the mattress and pat him lightly on the head.

“I know, bud. I miss him, too.” He doesn’t respond, so I go on. “He talked to me twice today. He didn’t say much.” I pause. “Or maybe he did. I’m not really sure.” I shake my head, then look at the tiny cow and sense judgment.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I say. “He extended an olive branch. It’s no big deal. He’s just… I don’t know.” The amount that I don’t know could fill a Guinness glass, it seems.

Hairy continues to stare at me with that doe-eyed expression on his adorable face.

“Fine, fine,” I relent, throwing up my hands. “How about this? If he tries to talk to me about what happened, I’ll consider hearing him out. Deal?” I reach out and shake his front hoof to seal our agreement. “But after my final class tomorrow, you and I are headed to the airport, little buddy. It’s time for you to see Texas.”

He still doesn’t respond, so I sigh and crawl into bed, nestling into the cool sheets and pulling the comforter over me. I reach over and turn off the lamp, then grab Hairy and pull him against my chest, tucking him under my chin.

“Goodnight, sweet boy,” I say, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Thanks for always being there for me.”

I wrap my arms around the little coo, and like I have every night since I met him, I imagine it’s Torin I’m holding instead.

39

Torin

Ken

Translation: To know or understand

Usage: Scots word for knowing, often appearing after “dinnae,” a Scots word meaning “don’t”

The last day of term, I head to Professor Moreau’s office with my new thesis proposal. I finally found something I was excited about after I ditched my last topic, which seems like a hasty decision at this point. But I can break new ground with it, and, paired with top marks in all coursework, it should qualify me for the assistantship with Professor Drummond. Now I just have to convince my advisor to let me pursue it.

I knock on Professor Moreau’s door.