True to Cat’s prediction, the next couple of days were a little lonely. Even though she’d turned her phone off of airplane mode to brace the onslaught of text messages, the rest of the week, she was granted a reprieve.
The group chat that included her and Peter together remained completely silent, and fell to the bottom of Cat’s chat logs. There was a new one with Hannah, Cam, and Kelsey, but so far, any plans to connect fell through. It was for the best. Cat still held onto a little irritation from the questioning, and she did really did need the extra time to prepare for her human sexuality midterm.
But after the exam, the pressure didn’t release from her throat.
Communications wasn’t difficult this week, thankfully. Peter completely ignored her existence, which made it easy to avoid him. Any time he looked up at her by accident, he averted his gaze clearly and obviously somewhere else. It was what she wanted. It was her goal all along. But somehow it was worse than Hannah’s passive aggressive sticky notes about how she “went out” or the one-worded texts from Kelsey all week.
And even though Cat didn’t have to worry about anything Peter-related anymore, she still couldn’t keep her attention on Professor Harlem that Friday night.
“Catherine Ramos! You’re up!” At the sound of her name, Cat’s stomach dropped.
“Sorry?” she asked, blinking out of her daydreams.
“Your presentation. It’s now. Your topic is….” As Professor Harlem looked through a notebook in her hand, Cat stared, wide-eyed at the person that sat beside her.
“Impromptu extemporaneous speech,” the girl whispered. Cat thanked her, and racked her brain to try and remember the requirements for this assignment. She’d just read the syllabus the other day, too, and saw that this was upcoming.
“Ah, yes!” the Professor sat up, having decided, and gestured to Cat to come up to the front of the class. “Your topic is confidentiality.” Was this a joke? Was this real life? Cat blinked at the professor as she rose from her seat.
“Uh--which--which way do you mean, professor?” she asked, her voice higher than it should have been.
“Hmmm….” Professor Harlem thought about it the entire time it took Cat to step up to the lectern. “Let’s go with…. I want five minutes about your take on whether governmental confidentiality helps or hurts the public.” Cat looked to the ceiling, her prayer to God more of a is this some sort of game to you rather than an actual prayer. “Everyone, I’m passing out critique papers. Pass them all to Catherine when she’s done, and keep your names off of them. Ready? Start.”
Cat cleared her throat, and just as Professor Harlem instructed in the guidelines, began by introducing herself, defining the topic, and proposing a thesis. Even though she swept her gaze across the audience, back and forth, left to right, pausing for a few seconds periodically, she could tell that one very particular person watched her very intently. He possibly didn’t agree with her, that confidentiality was better than transparency.
She spoke slowly, carefully, so as to avoid word-fillers, but the longer she stood up there, feeling the weight of Peter’s stare, the weaker her knees felt. At one point during her random anecdotes to support her thesis, Cat had to stop to remember to breathe.
“Sorry--” she croaked, taking a moment with her eyes closed. It wasn’t nerves. For whatever reason, this useless little speech hardly showed up on her radar. But Peter stared at her with a hard jaw, pursed lips, arms crossed over his chest--he was angry. And he hated her topic, she could tell. It was as if he challenged her right there, in front of the class. Even worse, when she’d closed her speech, he raised his hand.
Cat let herself look at him fully for the first time since...well, since nearly a week ago. He sat with perfect posture, staring, in his Casual Friday tee, this time covered in an open peacoat. Her heart leapt to her throat when she made eye contact with him, but she swallowed hard and remained stoic, granting him only a short nod.
“I wasn’t very clear on your thesis versus your anecdotes,” he started. He sounded like when they had their first debate, his voice taut and controlled. “Your thesis supports confidentiality, but your anecdotes still cited negative civilian effects, sometimes including deaths. How does that actually support your thesis?” She knew he was going to bring that up. Dammit, Peter, she had thirty seconds to come up with a five-minute speech!
With pursed lips, Cat took a deep, steady breath.
“We weren’t going to allow questions for this exercise,” Professor Harlem said. She went to continue talking, but Cat caught her attention.
“I’d like to answer to make it a part of my presentation, if you’d allow it.”
“Alright, sure. Keep it brief, though.”
She finally let out her breath and returned her gaze to Peter. Then, she continued, “With a little bit of critical thinking,” she started, just to annoy him, “it’s simple to look at the examples and compare them to the what-if scenarios. Take a bomb threat at a concert as another example. When the threat is not verified, but the warning is spread to a mosh pit….” She gestured with her hand, frowning. “If you’ve ever had friends and been to a concert--” Admittedly an unnecessary addition, but he started it-- “you’d know that groups of people in panic are incredibly dangerous, and sometimes deadly. Had the threat just been leaked without any filtration, you are adding an unnecessary level of danger. Confidentiality will never negate harm, just...mitigate it.” Though if keeping Peter’s secret negated it all together, that’d be a win-win situation. He glared at her answer as he drummed his pen against his desk, and she took her leave to sit down.
For the next forty minutes, several other students endured the torture that Professor Harlem designed, until a handful of students, including Cat, had small stacks of scrap paper.
“To keep things fair, if you presented today, your paper on this experience is due next Friday. Monday’s presenters get a week, as do Wednesday’s. I’ll send out an email tonight so there’s no confusion.” Cat started to glance at her little slips, which were just prompts to list possible improvements for the speech. “Select three pieces of feedback, write a five-thousand word essay on how you plan to implement this feedback in your final speech, and attach the feedback to the paper you turn in. I need physical copies this time, Taylor. No excuses.” While Professor Harlem droned on about other specifics of the assignment, Cat tried to find one comment that might have been written by Peter, but she didn’t have a clear idea of what his handwriting looked like. Maybe she’d find it later just based on the attitude he undoubtedly shoved in there.
The moment class was dismissed, Cat rose from her chair to try and book it as fast as possible out of the classroom. She wasn’t sure if Peter had the gall to stop her after class, but she liked to make sure he got stuck behind the long line of departing students anyway to give herself a head start. It worked for Monday’s and Wednesday’s classes, at least. Plus, with the longer nights fall provided, it was getting quite cold out, now, so it seemed like everyone was rushing to get into some shelter.
She had more than just Peter as a reason to rush back to her dorm, though. Her English midterm was due on Tuesday and she hadn’t even finished researching, she’d been so preoccupied. Although he lingered in the back of her mind, Cat managed to focus on her essay during her walk back to Casa del Sol. Outline, done. Topic paragraph and closing, done. She could use a few more sources--
“Cat, wait!” Oh, no. No! She picked up the pace as she walked. She folded her arms over her chest to keep her jacket closed in an attempt to make it look like she was rushing to get inside, but the grumbling from Peter was her indicator that she wasn’t subtle enough in trying to pretend like she didn’t hear him.
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God, how much more of this could she handle? They were relentless!
“Cat--!” The squelching of the grass behind her only got louder and faster, until finally Peter rounded in front of her and cut her off. When she tried to go past him, he held out his arm to block her, and pushed her to a stop right in front of him. Even through her jacket she could feel the heat from his hand. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears louder than the regular cacophony of campus nightlife. Readying herself, she pursed her lips and stared past him. She could do this. She told herself she wasn’t going to say anything, that she would keep Peter’s secrets for him, and she had every intention of following through. But it was harder when the person that asked her to keep the secret asked her for the secret.
“I gave you space,” he said, as if that was supposed to mean anything. Cat remained still. “It’s been a week. We tried things your way, they’re weird, if you just--”
"My way?” she echoed, genuinely confused. She looked to him, now, blinking.
“Yes.” He doubled-down, staring directly into her eyes. It made her stomach jump. “Ignoring whatever happened, avoiding people. It’s not working.”
“I’m not avoiding anyone.” She couldn’t keep looking up at him. Cat shuddered and broke eye contact, wrapping her arms around herself even tighter than before, as if it could protect her from Peter’s stupid curiosity.
“You’re avoiding me.” Well...yeah. She didn’t have an answer to that. “You told Hannah that if I was around to not even invite you.” She didn’t need reminding. “Actually, from what she told me, it seems like you’re not doing anything with anyone just so you don’t have to see me.”
“That’s not--that’s just how things happened this week,” she struggled to justify. It was maybe a bit of both. “Midterms and stuff….” Peter fell silent at her excuses; his shoulders deflated, and even though she had to physically move her head to look up at him, he seemed shorter.
“Was it that bad?” he asked quietly.
“What?”
“Whatever I did or said. You normally just--punch back or hit twice as hard. But--”
“I told you,” she interrupted, “you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But you’re acting like I did, so I must have--”
“You’re the one that asked me not to talk about it, okay?” This only seemed to confuse him further; her chest tightened as he squinted at her. “I’m just--” Her fingers itched to ball into fists. “I know for a fact that if you were aware of what was going on, if you were sober or--or even a little less drunk, you wouldn’t have chosen for me to be there.” That probably applied to every bit of his life, actually. Cat sighed to the grass. “And you asked me not to tell. So I’m….” Her shrug didn’t satisfy him. Nothing she said would, either. Finally, she took a step back to allow the night chill to invade their private bubble. Peter was about to reply, but she cut him off. “I’ve got an essay. Like I really, actually do.” He swallowed his words, and after a long pause, he stepped to the side and let her leave.
Hannah wasn’t home when Cat made it back. It was probably for the best. Her mind was still reeling from Peter confronting her; her stomach still flopped uneasily from having to suddenly present in front of people. Dinner wasn’t an option yet. Or if she got hungry, maybe something really light. Maybe even just a protein shake or something.
Cat sat down at her desk with her dinosaur laptop, and tried to be patient as it booted. Her phone vibrated--Hannah: Dinner?
It was a little weird that it wasn’t in a group text. Maybe she had more interrogating she wanted to do. Cat sighed. She wasn’t up for that, but she was absolutely up for her roommate to stop being so petty.
Maybe in an hour? Had a presentation and need my stomach to settle, she replied. Hannah sent back a thumbs-up emoji, and with that to worry about in the back of her mind, Cat returned to her laptop.
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The hour waiting for dinner was quite productive, actually. She nearly lost track of time until Hannah text her again, asking to meet in the common room downstairs. Cat frowned at the text.
Not coming up? Cat asked her.
No, just finishing meeting some1. figured since I’m already here I’d just wait for u. Something about this didn’t feel right, but Cat shrugged it off and closed her laptop. After donning a thicker jacket, she grabbed her phone and key to head out. On her ride down the elevator, the hairs on the back of Cat’s neck stood on end. Hannah was planning something. But why she wanted to meet in semi-public raised more questions than comforted any worst-case scenarios.
As Cat walked down the hallway to the common room, she tried to squint through the glass double-doors to see if she could find Hannah. She thought she could see her blonde mop, but she seemed to be talking to someone. Good God, if it was Peter, she was just going to turn right around--but it was Kelsey.
Sighing in relief, Cat shoved through the doors.
“Hi, long time no see,” Kelsey announced before stealing a hug.
“Midterms are murder,” Cat mumbled. “Coming to dinner?”
“I already ate. I was just hoping to catch up with you guys for a bit. I haven’t seen anyone all week.” Anyone? Cat avoiding Peter meant no one hung out? That didn’t seem right. Maybe her half-assed excuse about midterms held more weight than she thought.
“Sit, let’s catch up,” Hannah proposed, gesturing to one of the tables.
“You don’t have to get anything, but you can still come with us to dinner,” Cat offered instead. But Kelsey and Hannah headed to the table. The feeling in Cat’s stomach intensified. It almost felt like there was a box over the table, held up by a stick with a string attached to it. Against her better judgement, Cat slowly lowered herself to a chair at the table.
“This’ll be quick,” Kelsey said through a sigh. Aw, shit. As if waiting for a cue, the door to outside swung open, and bringing in a cold gust of air was no one other than Cam and Peter. Cat sighed.
“Are you guys really Come to Jesus-ing me right now?”
Hannah stared at her with confusion. “I don’t know what that means.”
Cam answered as he pulled out a chair, the metal scraping loudly against the floor, “It’s another way to say intervention.” For whatever reason, he left the last chair for Peter to be right next to Cat. As if that would help anything. She could feel the edges of his coat scrape hers when he sat down. Peter sitting next to her only spiked her blood pressure. “It’s like, ‘Come to Jesus, you’ve been doing drugs for too long.’”
“I don’t think that metaphor works here,” Kelsey said slowly.
“Simile, right? ’Cause I said ‘like’?”
“Anyway…,” Kelsey continued, ignoring Cam as he looked around the table for a silent answer to his question. Cat protested by staring at the table, and sat on her hands to prevent herself from punching Kelsey in her stupid, traitorous face. Hannah was lucky she was across the table. And Peter? This was his idea, wasn’t it? Cat shot him a glare, but he was busy looking to Kelsey. “Peter…?”
“This is really shitty of you guys,” Cat interrupted. No one had a response.
Peter shuffled next to her, his knees just inches away from bumping into hers. She refused to look up at him.
“I know I’m the one that made you not say anything,” he started carefully, “but I need to know. I want to know, okay? I’ll own up to whatever I did. I’ll be completely honest, okay?” He was handling her with kid gloves, delicate and careful. He seemed to be the only one aware that if they said one wrong thing, she would just bolt for the door or punch him. Or both.
“You didn’t want me to know,” she reminded with an edge to her voice.
Peter sighed. “I get that--I get that whatever I did, you think I did it as a mistake, but let me determine that for myself. Sober.” She pursed her lips, shrinking under the weight of everyone’s hard stares. Were they just here to dog pile on her? Why was Peter the only one talking? “Cat.” His tone made her flinch. “Please….” His voice was so soft, she doubted anyone else could hear him say it. She wasn’t even sure if he would have said it, if they could hear him. Cat turned, just a little, to watch his expression.
Why did it hurt to look at him? That tiny twinge of--of whatever emotion in his furrowed brow was nothing compared to last week. Nothing compared to what would show there if she just blurted out his secrets for the whole common room to hear. And sure, they might have been the only ones there right now, but it was Friday night. Anyone could walk in at any time.
“What if--” he started again, an inch closer to her, “you just try to remind me. If it doesn’t work, fine. If it does, then I can decide for real if...if….” Well…maybe that would be a suitable loophole. Certainly it was something that was always on his mind already, so perhaps a couple key words would just slightly jog his memory, give him an idea of what he might have said to her. Then he could say, “Oh, yes, you’re right, it was a mistake, everyone leave her alone now.”
Cat sighed and picked at her fingernails in her lap, but pursed her lips and gave the tiniest nod of her head.
She turned to him, heart beating in her throat, to watch his expression. “You...told me about your phone call,” she started slowly. He didn’t seem to understand yet. “Your, um...your mom and dad….” Twinkles of recognition started to show in his eyes. “And your dad.” To everyone else, maybe it sounded like she was just repeating herself. Peter’s eyes started to widen, but she had one last addition: “And you told me while you….” Her eyes flickered to Cam for a moment, as if to give Peter a further hint to the answer before she locked eyes with him. “Um, while you….” She hesitated, struggling to find a euphemism that wouldn’t be too obvious. Well…. “While you chased your vitamins with a fourth of a bottle of rum.” There. Now he knew she knew what he took at night, and everyone else would focus on the whole bit about the rum.
But she stared at Peter, watched his eyes widen, his lips part in surprise. Finally, he blinked and sat up, straight as a board. He seemed to try to control his reaction, but his expression still fell, his gaze fell to the floor, and he let out the tiniest, “Oh.”