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“That won’t be necessary.” She toyed with a strand of her long, straight hair, in grand deliberation of her next move. Dayton marveled at how glorious those glossy locks must feel, waging that they’d glide across his fingertips like the finest silk. “I’m in PSYC4960.”
She retrieved a set of papers, which she placed on his desk with one of her milky, glowing hands.
“I came here to inquire about the possibility of carrying out my internship with you. More like a mentorship, really. I’d be required to spend 20 hours with you each week.” She continued speaking as she moved to fill the guest chair across the room. “I don’t want to come across as desperate, but I’m in a tough spot transportation wise. I need to stay on campus and I hope you take that into consideration as you mull over my proposal. I won’t disappoint you.” Her feverish green eyes landed on him as she brandished a pained stare, a look that struck him like a luminous spectral—haunting and inviting, all at once. “Please, Dr. Merino. I need this.”
He couldn’t believe what she was saying. She either had no idea of his reputation at the university, or was well aware of it, in which case she must have been entirely mad.
He thought she looked vaguely familiar but couldn’t place it. His focus was split between the woman, reluctant to tear his gaze away from her darling face, and the contract that sat before him. In the most obnoxiously pristine print he’d ever seen read, ‘Kenna O’Callaghan,’ on the line marked ‘name.’ The neat capital ‘K’ stared back at him, begging him to ruin its precision. A calmness settled within Dayton as he drew in a deep breath. He knew exactly how to handle the situation.
“Ponderosa doesn’t offer pre-med, so it’s safe to assume you aren’t on any kind of educational path that will eventually lead to practicing psychiatry. Pray tell, why are you in my office?”
“Please, sir, I’m not incompetent. I understand there are differences between the work of psychiatrists and psychologists. But you see, I plan to go into general therapy upon completing my graduate studies and I need to–”
“No.”
“Excuse me?” Her grip tightened on the notebooks, anguish reflecting in her once hopeful irises.
“I’m not interested, kid.”
Oh, what a lie. Nothing existed on Earth that could’ve interested Dayton more in this moment than the red-headed girl, looking every bit like a prized forest nymph.
“And, not that it’s any of your concern, but I have an ongoing research project that demands a lot of attention.” He stared at her for one calculated second that seemed to span a minute. “Babysitting isn’t part of my job description, Miss O’Callaghan.”
Body rigid, she rose slowly from the chair, flaunting a supreme elegance unbefitting her young age. Kenna snatched the contract from his desk as she went, as if she couldn’t get out of the office fast enough.
And yet, she surprised him by pausing in the doorframe. Her hair whipped around, a tumble of raging flames, as her head snapped in his direction.
“The dean will hear about this,” she threatened before disappearing through the hall.
2
PREDICAMENT
Kenna occupied the decrepit rolling chair behind the check-out desk in Ponderosa’s library. In her two years working there, she’d grown accustomed to the stubborn metal spring digging in her backside. She no longer winced as she sat in it day after day.
Not a soul lingered on any of the three floors. Had there been at least one person milling about, their footsteps against the wood would’ve echoed through the cavernous space like delayed musical notes.
The lack of visitors didn’t bother Kenna. It left her time to study, though her gaze sometimes strayed from the textbook to admire the library’s outdated beauty. The mahogany tables and their army of banker’s lamps. The polished floors and tall windows. She delighted on each occasion the late afternoon light streamed in, illuminating dust motes with an impossible ethereality. She imagined a painter, eyes squinted, with a tiny tipped brush poised and dotting those little specks onto a canvas.
But the immense beauty of the space nor the comforting smell of the decaying books quelled her unease as she replayed the visit she had paid Dr. Merino.
She’d immediately recognized him from St. James, the owner of those black eyes that had penetrated her soul in one sweeping glance. She didn’t dare bring up the fleeting connection during their hostile meeting.
Their interaction weighed heavily on her mind. How could things have gone so horribly wrong in the short amount of time she occupied his office? He hadn’t given the offer a moment of consideration, as if he’d made his decision before she walked through the door. She swallowed hard to dispel the thought but the notion alone had her brain sizzling.
Dr. Merino’s refusal was incomprehensible. It was outright rejection. Rejection without cause.
He had been in her company for no more than five minutes and in that span had found a reason to dismiss the idea of spending the next five months with her. The more she thought about it, the more enraged she became. Her fingers itched to tangle in her hair, pulling and pulling until her scalp popped and the uprooted strands lay at her feet.
Kenna did no such thing. Instead, she sat still, fuming in silence like a tea kettle on the cusp of squealing.
“Hello? I’d like to check these out,” said a scrawny guy with a bowl cut. He aimed a spindly finger at a short stack of books and raised an eyebrow, insinuating it wasn’t his first bid to get her attention.
“Sorry, I’m a little out of it today.” She scanned the titles into the system and thrust them toward the puffy jacket-clad student with a tight smile that pained her cheeks. “They’re due on the 20th.”
Without a passing phrase, he swiped the books and went on his way. She didn’t blame him. Students kept their visits strictly in and out save for the rare occasion some nested at the long tables and studied by the yellow light of the glass shaded lamps. The avoidance stemmed from an executive decision the university had made a decade earlier to remove all non-academic offerings from the shelves.
The guy with the bowl cut was her only checkout of the evening. A couple of girls came in to use the computers, but they had gone within ten minutes.
