The Halo Effect

24 | the brave thing

[trigger warning: non-explicit mention of sexual assault]

I submitted my Calculus exam on Monday morning in a rush of academic adrenaline and wondering just how much of a role differential equations will play in my future (none, ideally). After spending the majority of Sunday in the library studying for the exam, I hoped that enjoying my free period out in the warm spring air and sunlight would somehow cure the dark circles beneath my eyes and dull headache.

When I powered on my phone as I left the mathematics wing, a recent text from Trip altered my plans.

TRIP MCKENNA, 10:22 AM: at the usual spot

CHANDLER ENGLAND, 10:24 AM: on my way

I arrived at Trip's usual spot on the second floor of the library five minutes later. He sat at what I'd learned to be his favorite table near the floor-to-ceiling windows, where the soft morning light flowed through the nearby aisles in rivers of gold.

"Hey," I greeted softly, letting my fingertips dance across his shoulders as I moved to occupy the open seat beside him.

Trip turned his gaze away from the daunting molecular diagram occupying his laptop's screen and bestowed me with his charming half-smile. "How was Calc?"

"Fine," I sighed out. I folded my arms on the table and leaned forward to rest my head on top of them, but faced Trip with my eyes momentarily closed. "I'm just ridiculously tired. I don't think I have it in me to participate in Aspen's Citizens United v. FEC discussion today."

"Really?" I heard the hint of a smile in Trip's voice as he gently combed his fingers through my hair. "I thought you were super into free speech and campaign finance laws."

"Please don't make me laugh, Trip. You're going to ruin my sense of humor."

"Your sense of humor already largely includes European history references."

I opened my eyes and propped myself up on one elbow. "You don't appreciate those?"

Trip only grinned. "I appreciate that you're the one making them."

I hummed, feigning sincere contemplation of his remark. "Well, we're going to revisit this eventually, but I would actually appreciate it if you could proofread my AP Lang essay sometime before I print it tonight. I don't want any silly errors induced by sleep deprivation."

"All right," Trip nodded, sliding his laptop over to create space in front of him. "Pull it up."

"Now?" I arched an eyebrow.

"Now."

"Trip, I'm not that high maintenance." I sat up straight and flicked my wrist in the direction of his laptop. "You've got some sort of AP Chem monstrosity to deal with.''

"Chandler, I would love nothing more in this moment than to read your AP Lang essay."

I knew Trip was being funny, but the sincerity in his voice gave my body agency to move on its own. Before giving it a second thought, I leaned over and kissed him.

Trip still seemed to be in the moment when I pulled away. The corners of his mouth twitched into a quiet smile. "That was nice."

"I do in fact have my moments."

I extracted my laptop from my backpack and opened Google Docs. As Trip casually scrolled through my riveting rhetorical analysis on The Scarlet Letter, I felt my lips tilt upward in a tiny smile.

Before I'd started at Cannondale, Mom told me boarding school would make me grow up faster - contribute to making me more independent, and whatnot. But Cannondale wasn't a place I'd grown up in, it was a place I grew into.