Last One Standing

3 | Guru in the Making

THE GLOW FROM THE LAPTOP SCREEN cast a soft light on Holden's focused expression, his fingers dancing across the keyboard with a rhythm that matched the ticking clock in the corner of the library. It was late, way past when the last stragglers had given up on caffeine and cramming. But there he was, hunched over his blog, "Man Hack" lighting up his face in a blue hue.

What we needed to do was talk about our joint research paper, and when I say joint, I mean 'birthed in hell', and when I eluded to 'research', I mean 'to fail epically at'.

"Still at it, huh?" Curiosity laced my words as I approached his library table, my own pile of journalism research weighing heavy under my arm.

"Always," Holden replied without looking up, a half-smile playing on his lips. "People don't stop having relationship troubles just because it's 1 AM."

Shit, was it that late? Time had got the better of me and my body clock, used to late nights at the bar, didn't always clock the daylight as it disappeared from the sky.

"Guess not." I hovered by the edge of his workspace, watching as he paused, reading over the latest plea for understanding the male mind swimming in his inbox. His warm brown eyes scanned the message, furrowing with genuine concern.

"Look at this," he said after a moment, tilting the screen toward me. A girl had written about her confusion with a guy who sent mixed signals. Classic. "She deserves honesty, right? But with a dose of kindness."

"Kindness can sometimes mean telling people what they want to hear," I observed, intrigued despite myself as he began typing a response.

"Sometimes," he nodded, his words a quiet echo against the stillness of the night. "But it's about respect, too. They trust me with their stories, their hearts. The least I can do is be truthful, even if it stings."

"Doesn't that make you the bad guy sometimes?"

"Maybe," he conceded, his sandy hair falling into his eyes as he leaned back to consider his reply before hitting send. "But better the honest villain than the liar dressed as a hero, don't you think?"

I shrugged noncommittally, but inside, his words struck a chord. Holden wasn't just the charming college blogger with an ego fed by female attention. He cared—really cared—about the advice he dispensed, and it was hard not to respect that.

"Is it always like this?" I found myself asking, my voice barely above a whisper, afraid to disturb the sanctity of his ritual.

"Like what?" He didn't look up, his focus unbreakable.

"Your dedication." I watched as he paused, reading over his latest piece of advice carefully before sending it off into the void. "It's past midnight, and here you are, offering parts of yourself to strangers."

"Commitment doesn't punch out at five," he replied simply, finally sparing me a glance. "That's what my dad says."

"Even if it means standing alone against the world sometimes?" I pressed, unable to quell the curiosity bubbling inside me.

"Especially then." The corners of his mouth twitched upward in a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes. "Standing for something, even if it's unpopular, is better than falling for everything. What good would I be as a journalist who only wrote what people wanted to read, rather than the truth?"

I leaned back against the bookshelf, the spines pressing patterns into my skin.

"Have you ever questioned your beliefs?" The question slipped out before I could cage it, carried on the wings of my own doubts.

"Every day," he answered without hesitation. "But questioning isn't the same as changing. It's about understanding why you believe what you do."

"And do you? Understand?"

"More than most." There was no arrogance in his voice, just a statement of fact. "But I'm also aware that life has a way of proving us wrong when we least expect it."

A silence fell between us, filled only by the hum of computers and the distant sound of someone turning a page.

"Listen, with our views so different, I can't afford to mess us this paper Mrs Mead has challenged us with. But I have reservations. A paper fine, but did you hear her, Holden, we actually need to agree on the outcome."

"Heard loud and clear. And, good," he replied. "I can't afford to mess up either. If you like, I can drop by the bar when you finish your shift tomorrow, and we can make a start on bringing you over to the dark side?"

"I've never watched Star Trek."

"Great—because that was Star Wars."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Anyway. Sounds like a plan then." I paused before I turned to leave. And Holden?"

"Yeah..."

"That paid internship is mine."

He smiled. "I was going to say the same thing to you, Mills."