Page 69 of Saint Céline
Christina’s face flushed, but she held my gaze. That, at least, I respected.
“People are talking.”
“Bellamont students have survived centuries without hobbies. I suggest you find a new one that’s not gossip if you want to stay,” I replied.
Her mouth tightened. “That’s unfair.”
She folded her arms, and for a second, I saw the deep insecurity beneath the accusation.
“You think she’s better than the rest of us,” Christina said.
Across the room, Céline went very still.
I could have softened the moment. A kinder professor would have. I could have given Christina a sentence about different strengths or varying research pathways, something gentle enough to preserve morale and useless enough to mean nothing. Instead, I said, “Then outperform her.”
Christina stared at me.
Céline’s head lifted sharply.
“That isn’t what I said.”
“No,” I replied. “But it is what you were afraid to say.”
She gathered her laptop with shaking hands and left the room without another word. The door closed harder than necessary behind her, and the sound echoed briefly through the seminar room before the rain swallowed it.
Céline was still standing near the door. Her phone was dark in her hand.
“You handled that badly. It’s very unlike you,” she said.
I looked at her. There was no careful sweetness in her voice now, no polished softness, no attempt to charm me out of the moment. She was angry, and not for herself.
Interesting.
“There are easier ways to thank me for defending your intelligence.”
“I didn’t ask you to defend me.”
“No,” I said. “You rarely ask for anything directly.”
Her mouth tightened. “You were so cruel to her.”
“She accused you publicly.”
“She was insecure.”
“She was challenging you.”
“She was hurt,” Céline said, and the quiet certainty in her voice irritated me because it was not wrong. “You didn’t have to humiliate her for it.”
I moved around the desk slowly, watching the way her fingers curled more tightly around the strap of her bag. “You corrected Mr. Price in front of everyone.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“I was explaining the paper. You were proving a point.”
I almost smiled. “And what point was that?”
