The Scars of Anatomy

32. Know

I wake up the next morning, feeling worse than any hangover I've ever had. I got a total of maybe two hours of sleep last night, too anxious and distressed to sleep, going over and over in my head what I'm going to say to Olivia.

I check the time on my phone to see it's just past 7:00 a.m. I know Olivia has a final at 8:00 a.m. for the lab she teaches for Mrs. Cooper so I jump out of bed and get dressed, heading for the science building to try to catch her before it starts.

I wander down the halls of the science building until I reach her lab room. Peeking inside, I spot a few early bird, eager freshman already sitting inside, going over their notes one last time. I glance at the front of the classroom to find one of them talking with Olivia.

She looks wrecked. The dark circles under her eyes tell me she's probably gotten just as much sleep as I have, and the dullness in her usually bright, warm eyes tells me just how emotionally drained she must be after all the events that have taken place in the past twenty-four hours.

Seemingly sensing my gaze, she looks up and her eyes lock on mine. I nearly gasp at how dull, empty, her eyes look. At how differently she's looking at me. That usual sparkle of fondness, happiness, isn't there. It's like she's looking at me as if I'm just a ghost of her memory.

I don't miss the quick flicker of surprise in her eyes, though, as well as the lingering pain set deep beneath the usually warm brown irises. For a moment, I think I see a flash of longing in them, but that may just be wishful thinking.

She stares at me with a mix of emotions, until her attention is taken back by the freshman in front of her, asking a million questions.

A few more students filter in, fifteen minutes remaining until the exam starts. Olivia glances up at me frequently, and eventually, she excuses herself from the annoying freshman, standing up and walking across the lab to the door.

My heart reaches out for her, but my feet stay glued to the floor, unsure of whether or not to meet her halfway or have her come to me.

"Finch."

She looks at me, subtly shaking her head. She places her hand on the door, making my heart sink.

"Finch, please, let's talk," I beg.

She continues to shake her head. "Not here," she says, voice barley above a whisper, a plea rolling off her lips.

I open my mouth and close it, her wounded eyes begging me to leave. I know I shouldn't be doing this here, in front of her students, but I can't stand not talking to her, not seeing her. I've been going crazy not being near her, knowing nothing has been resolved between us.

"Olivia, I—" The words get caught in my throat. Everything I planned on saying to her, everything I rehearsed over and over again last night, escapes me.

Another one of her students arrives, passing in between us and into the classroom. Olivia gives me one last long look before closing the door behind her, leaving it cracked open a quarter of the way for the students still making their way in. My heart breaks, knowing that she's physically and emotionally trying to keep me out.

It takes everything inside of me not to push through that door and hash it out with her right here, right now, but I know how distressed that would make her and how bad that would look. Not only for me, but for her if the students complained to Mrs. Cooper.

Completely dejected, I take a seat on the bench across the hall, watching the remainder of her class file in, the door cracking open a little wider with each body that passes through. At 8:00 a.m. on the dot, Olivia closes the door all the way and doesn't spare me a single glance.