Page 16 of Hannah.
Johan finishes his speech, thanking his team again and adding, “History, my friends, is not merely a chronicle of events but a mosaic of humanity's collective spirit. It is the story of how we, as a species, have evolved, learned, and persevered.”
The applause this time around is much louder. Astrid is glowing, clapping her hands gently and looking up at Johan like he’s the sun. Crap. Something is going on here, and part of me doesn’t want to admit it. But I have to know.
Confused, I turn to Astrid, desperately hoping for some different explanation. “Do you know him?” I manage to ask, my voice sounding far-off and uncertain.
Astrid's response lands like a punch to the gut. “Of course,” she says, her eyes sparkling with affectionate pride. “Johan's my boyfriend. Come, let me introduce you.”
My heart sinks. How…how can the only two people I know here be dating each other? I’ve heardnothingabout Johan having a girlfriend, and even if we don’t text much anymore, he’s still a family friend. I usually hear the news about him from my siblings, and I’m sure they’d have known about it.
The friendship I’ve just forged collides head-on with a sharp pang of jealousy. Astrid and Johan…what am I going to do!? He's not just a distant crush anymore; he’s Astrid’sboyfriend. It’s a twist I hadn’t seen coming, leaving me grappling with all my emotions—longing, disappointment, and resentment.
“Oh, uh, no…that’s okay…” I try to stall, looking around foranyoneelse I might recognize to get me out of having to face Johan. “I need to use the restroom anyway.”
“That can wait,” Astrid insists, taking my hand again. “Let’s go before he’s swamped by other people desperate to talk to him.”
Summoning every ounce of composure possible, I plaster on a smile. Her grip on my hand is firm, and my attempts to resist her cheerful insistence are futile. I find myself dragged toward Johan, with no chance to stall. For a moment, I attempt to hide behind Astrid as if I can melt into her shadow and escape the unavoidable encounter.
Johan is already talking to an older man who seems to be an academic, but he pivots to smile at Astrid as she approaches. Up close, he looks even more handsome in his navy-blue suit and white shirt, with a few buttons at his neck undone. At first,my attempt at hiding at least stops him from recognizing me immediately. But then…he sees me.
The impact of recognizing me ripples through him, but he manages to keep his expression neutral. Time seems to freeze as I meet Johan’s gaze. His eyes, once so familiar, now hold a hint of surprise and something else—something unspoken, a tension hanging in the air like a heavy fog. For a moment, I’m lost, the memories of our past crashing into the present. Flashbacks of Johan letting me link my arm through his at the horse show, us having dinner by the river after the event, and when I found myself pressed against the desk at Oma’s––
Astrid's voice cuts through the air, shaking me from my thoughts and making my heart skip a beat. “Johan, love, this is Hannah,” she announces with a bright smile, her eyes flickering between us. “My new friend I met at the Oddities exhibit.”
“Hi,” I manage to squeak out, my voice small and unsteady.This is it, I think,the moment we finally talk outside of class.I want to say more, to break the ice with something witty or profound, but my mind draws a blank.
“Hannah,” Johan utters, his voice equally strained. The air between us crackles with unspoken words, a canyon of silence stretching wider with every passing second. Astrid, seemingly oblivious to the tension, continues to smile, unaware of the complex history between us. “Nice meeting you. Astrid has said great things about you.”
Oh, so that’s how we’re going to do it? We’re going to pretend not to know each other even though we’ve been friends….and almost more…for years? It hurts, a dull ache in my chest, but I understand why he’s greeting me this way. What would Astrid say if she knew our history? It might ruin their relationship and my friendship with her.
“Astrid is such an incredible woman; you’re lucky to have her as your girlfriend,” I quip immediately at him, my tone gentle enough to hide the remark underneath.
I don’t want to lose Astrid…not when I’ve just found her. Connections like the one we have are rare. I especially don’t want to lose her because stupid Johan, who wants to ignore my existence, is dating her.
“See?” Astrid loops an arm around me, squeezing me in excitement. “Youare the lucky one, Mr. Bentinck. Everyone seems to get it but you.”
While Johan is saying something to his girlfriend, my eyes flicker away, trying to find anything to focus on in the surroundings–-the muted lighting, the distant murmur of conversations, anything to distract me from this surreal moment. I’m trapped between the past and the present, my 16-year-old self and my 18-year-old self slamming together. All of my feelings for Johan have come rushing back.
I need to get some space. How long can I stand here, desperately trying to navigate the awkwardness of pretending not to know the person I secretly admired for so long?
Astrid looks between us, a frown pulling at the corner of her mouth. It looks like she’s going to ask a question, but Johan speaks up first. “Astrid, I’d like to introduce you to my research team. Shall we?”
He takes her by the arm and steers her away, and her look of uncertainty evaporates now that she’s the center of his attention once more. As they go, she gives me a little finger wave, mouthing the words “See you soon!” behind Johan’s back, leaving me standing here with nothing to do and no one to talk to.
The night wears on, and Johan and I find ourselves stealing glances at each other from across the room. I take a glass of champagne from a passing server, making surface-levelconversation with other people at the exhibition. Most of them seem unamused when I mention that I’m a fresher, uninterested in someone so young, but that attitude often changes when I mention my last name.
Hannah, the art history student, doesn’t garner much respect. But Hannah van den Bosch does.
But no matter who I’m speaking to or where I wander in the building, Johan is somewhere within eyesight. He draws my gaze like a magnet—like a single spot of color in a black-and-white room. Unspoken words hang heavy between us, creating an almost palpable tension. It becomes too much, an unbearable weight on my chest, and I decide it's time to escape this suffocating atmosphere. The solitude of my dorm is calling to me.
I slip away from the crowd, my steps purposeful, and I find myself outside the building, waiting for my Uber driver in the cool night air. I close my eyes and breathe deeply, letting it fill my lungs. In and out, in and out, I keep breathing, just trying to let some of the anxiety of the last few hours fade away.
Hearing footsteps on the pavement behind me, I turn, the back of my neck prickling with the feeling of being watched. To my surprise, Johan appears beside me, his hands shoved in his pocket as he looks out down the street. Not at me, I notice. He’s trying to appear nonchalant—like he came out here to get some air, not to see me.
Still looking away, he starts to talk to me. “We're not really together, you know.” His voice is low, a quiet confession hanging between us. “She isn’t my girlfriend, per se. We're just dating.”
Clenching my clutch tight, I try to play it cool. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.” He sounds just the slightest bit frustrated. “Me and Astrid.”