Chapter Eleven
Ethan
After my conversation with Ben about being friends with Sadie, I try to ignore the physical attraction I feel for her and concentrate on the work. For the most part, I’m successful.
She’s efficient and dedicated, and the three subjects she takes my tutorials for run like clockwork. It hasn’t escaped my notice that the grades for the weekly quizzes in those classes are demonstrably higher than my other two subjects. At first, I thought Sadie might be marking a little easy. But an audit of her marking showed the opposite was true. She’s a hard taskmaster. That said, she gives the students plenty of support and extra material to help them achieve.
I certainly wouldn’t be able to manage to teach five subjects, supervise her PhD and start planning for the upcoming season in Amarna without her help. She’s expressed the ambition of teaching here at the uni once she’s finished her PhD. And she’ll be great.
Sadie dresses like a flower child from the 70s. She rarely wears makeup, and she’s all flowing peasant dresses, cowboy boots and crochet cardigans. It’s a look that suits her perfectly because it’s completely at odds with her razor-sharp mind. The contrast is fascinating. On the surface, she’s making absolutely no attempt to attract my attention. But the reverse is happening.
Despite the lack of makeup and revealing clothes, there’s no ignoring Sadie. She’s beautiful in a no-nonsense way that reminds me of my sister, Greer, and my brother’s partner Freyja. And there’s no denying the intelligence and humour in her eyes is more attractive to me than any amount of eyeshadow or mascara.
I try to keep a tight lid on those thoughts, though. If I can pretend we’ve never been anything more than work colleagues for long enough, maybe my unconscious mind, which tortures me when I sleep, will eventually get the message.
There was a time in my life when I didn’t know what it was to be flirted with. I know what I am and what I’m not. Sure, I’m not a bad-looking guy. But I’m serious and a little awkward with people I don’t know. I don’t have the bravado of my brothers. I was also in a committed relationship from the time I was sixteen, and everyone knew it. Which sounds odd to say now. Sixteen is so young. But even then, I knew Jess and I were a forever thing. It breaks my heart that forever turned out to be so short.
But my time in Cambridge gave me a crash course in being flirted with. Seems like my awkwardness now comes across as broody and deep. And maybe I’ve grown into my slightly too-large nose and gangly limbs. I hated the attention at the time. Although, to be fair, I hated everything after Jessie’s death. Even breathing. I’m now grateful for the lesson because I spotted Riley’s intentions during our first conversation.
So far, I’ve managed to avoid being alone with her, so the flirting has been somewhat low-key and harmless. Until I makethe mistake of staying late one evening in the room where the Berner Collection is held.
The room is restricted to teaching staff and PhD students because of the fragility and value of the manuscripts it holds. In fact, normally, Janet, who guards the collection like a dragon guards their treasure, wouldn’t allow anyone in without her personal supervision. But tonight she has a Zumba class to get to, and she trusts me to take care, and lock up securely before I leave.
I had no idea Riley was still in the building. It’s not like her to hang around after hours. She’s not what you’d call a committed student. Turns out, she’s a very committed flirt.
“Oh, Ethan. You’re still here. You work sohard,” she says in a Marilyn Monroe-esque breathless pant, leaning against the door frame. I don’t miss the emphasis on the last word.
The room is mostly dark, apart from the desk light I have trained on the manuscript I’m studying at the big table that runs down the centre of the space.
“It’s easier to concentrate when it’s quiet.” I don’t add that going home to an empty house has become harder and harder instead of easier.
Riley pushes away from the door and saunters towards me.
“Would you like some help? I could be your research assistant.”
She slides a hip onto the desk next to me, crosses her legs and tips her head, looking up at me through her lashes in what I imagine she thinks is a coquettish way. Jesus. Coquettish? I sound like my grandmother.
I slide the tray holding the delicate manuscript away from her encroaching arse with a frown.
“No need. Thanks. I’m preparing major essay questions. Best to keep them confidential.” Of course, I’ve discussed ideas with Sadie, but I wouldn’t trust Riley not to blab. Like her flirting,her commitment to gossip has an inverse correlation to her commitment to work.
I focus again on the manuscript, hoping my brush-off was sufficiently obvious.
I overestimated her. Or maybe it’s underestimated?
“I could get you some dinner. You must behungry.”Her hand lands on my arm, fingers trailing up from my wrist to my elbow.
Fuck. This is getting awkward. I focus on the most obvious point.
“You can’t bring food or drinks in here.”
She shifts a little closer. Her hand is now on my shoulder. Playing with the collar of my shirt.
“Oh, that’s right. Why don’t we go out and get dinner, then? There’s a yummy Japanese place almost across the road.” There’s not. It’s a good five to ten minutes away by car, and there’s no way I’m getting in a car alone with her.
I drop my shoulder out from under her hand and shift away again.
“I have work to do, Riley.” I’ve used the disappointed father voice I picked up from listening to Dad with Will and Ben over the years. For most people, that would be enough. Not Riley.
