Read Online Definitely, Maybe in Love by Ophelia London - Free Book Online Page B

talking through it out loud with someone who had no clue about the subject matter would rattle something loose. I sighed and rested the side of my head against my palm. “Okay, well, basically my main focus is on biological systems remaining diverse and productive over time. Sorry, that was too technical. What I mean is—”
    “Sustainability.”
    I frowned. “You know what that is?”
    “I do.” When I didn’t go on, he gestured for me to continue.
    “Anyway, since you know what sustainability is, you’re probably also aware that land development is destroying the environment. Yeah, I know, this isn’t news, but I’m trying to prove that the continued usage of developed land could be even worse; it should be revitalized back into nature. No new patches of forests or mountainsides or wetlands are suddenly going to appear in the middle of an urban system. We’ve got all we’re ever going to have right now, today. And it’s not enough.”
    “Isn’t that an overly simplistic way of looking at it?” he asked.
    I stared across the table at him. “No.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Look, do you want to hear the rest of this or do you want to argue?”
    His eyebrows pulled together like he was about to say something else, but then he shut his mouth and sat back.
    “Like I was saying.” I gave him a look. “At this rate, we’re going to be living in a dystopian world in three generations.”
    “A what?”
    “Dystopia. The yang of utopia. Think: opposite of the Garden of Eden. Like The Hunger Games . Have you read that?”
    He shook his head, bewildered.
    “It’s a novel, similar to 1984 in the—”
    “You’re getting your research from novels?”
    “Of course not. I was making a comparison.” I kneaded a fist into my temple, annoyed with all the derailing. “Anyway, what I mean is, we have to take back industrial land, that’s the only way to save it. I’ve got the environmental research, but Masen, my professor, wants me to learn more about the business end, the economics of it, the legal side.”
    Frustrated at the thought, I cupped my hands over my face, feeling—not for the first time in three weeks—at a complete loss. If I thought too much about it, I would worry myself sick. Then…I would drown.
    “I’ve got a hard deadline coming up,” I mumbled through my fingers, mostly to myself. “I’ve read some articles and books and sat in on a few urban econ lectures, and I’ve even talked to a couple econ majors. How can no one at Stanford understand what I’m talking about?”
    “Email me your outline.”
    Knowing I must have misheard, I peeled away my fingers and looked up. “What?”
    “Your facts are wrong.”
    I dropped my hands. “No, they aren’t.”
    “They are. I can help.”
    “No, you can’t.” I pushed back my chair, wondering if he was purposefully insulting me or if this was his personality. “Why would you want to help me, anyway?”
    He shrugged. “Maybe I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he answered. “Maybe I’ve been wanting to make up for that.”
    “Do you have another foot?” I asked skeptically.
    He stared back. “What?”
    My bad joke was lost on him. “Nothing,” I said. “Anyway, I’m not letting you read my outline. I don’t even know you.”
    He leaned forward, resting his crossed arms on the table. “Spring, do you know what I’m studying to be?”
    “A lawyer,” I said. “You’re in law school.”
    “That’s correct.” He rubbed his chin, reminding me a bit of Professor Masen. “My undergrad was in finance, but I’m studying corporate law with an emphasis in property development.”
    I stared at him, my brain grinding into gear at what his words implied. A second later, I felt cold fingers slide up my spine, and my heart started pounding under Henry Knightly’s heavy gaze, but it was for a different reason this time.
    “Does that mean…”
    “That means,” he said, “if you’re an environmentalist, then I’m your worst