Night stalker
Emotional Manipulator
Seductress
Tramp
I don’t think any of those will look good on my résumé. I also never thought any of those titles would be attached to my name.
And Dr. Ryan’s silence? What evenwasthat? He stood there while his wife verbally attacked me and said nothing to defend my character. Defended himself, for sure, but left me hanging out to dry. I mean, I can see now that Margaret Ryan is terrifying, but is he so weak that he can’t stand up for an innocent person when they’re being wrongfully accused of coming onto a married man?! And she — she’s met me maybe three times? Four? That woman doesn’t know me at all, so to accuse me of seducing her husband as if she monitors my every interaction with him is absurd.
I have enough shit blowing up in my life right now, and I can’t handle one more thing.
Once my car is warmed, I shake my head to clear the internal fiasco and pull out of the parking lot.
When I arrived here today this place was my sanctuary. Little did I know when I left it’d be the last time I ever step foot on this campus.
FOURTEEN
Dexter
I’m sittingin the lounge chair closest to my office window reading fiction entries in the newest publication of theColorado Literary Journal. But no matter how hard I try to focus I keep rereading the same sentence. I honestly believed I had my thoughts under control concerning Alis, but then we walked into each other and the smell of her perfume overtook me.
A combination of cedarwood, vanilla, and maybe something floral? I have no idea what perfume she uses, but it’s intoxicating. Distinctly, Alis. I’ve never met another woman who wore that same perfume, yet somehow her scent reminds me of an old friend. No one in particular, but the scent calms me and excites me at the same time, making me feel like everything is right in the world. Her lingering scent on my shirt triggers thoughts of the two of us standing close, my hand on her jaw as I was about to kiss her the night we met. I wish I could go back to that moment and freeze time while I bury my nose in her hair and then trail kisses from her earlobe, down her neck, and to her collarbone. I bet her skin tastes as delicious as her scent. Her kiss tasted of vodka and pomegranate lip balm; her lips, full and soft, felt like coming home.
I shake my head and rub my eyes, trying to push thoughts of Alis from my mind. I’m a words man, but I’ve never mentally articulated personal feelings like this before. My work has never competed for my attention, not even with Laura. When I’m working, I’m working. When I was with Laura, I was with Laura. She had her own compartment in my brain, and she stayed there. I loved her, she was always a priority in my life, but my work was always my favorite pursuit. It’s still my favorite pursuit, right?
Focus, man. She’s your grader.She won’t always be my grader. She won’t always be off limits. And I know she wants me just as badly as I want her. Every time she turns me down I can’t help but thinkher lips say one thing, while her heart says another.Dumas always did have a way with words. Perfectly poetic truths that cut to the core.
Just as I’m about to give up on reading and work on emails instead, a line in the student author’s bio catches my eye: “in collaboration with Dr. Jonathan Ryan, PhD, Grant University.” I smile. I haven’t seen that man in years. I wonder how he’s doing? He and I both presented at the Surrey International Writers’ Conference five or six years ago while I was drafting my dissertation. I was stuck in a rut and couldn’t dig my way out of writer’s block no matter how hard I tried, and one conversation with him cleared away the fog and put me back on track. I would have finished my PhD with or without his advice, but there’s no doubt in my mind that our conversation over lunch that day was the catalyst that transformed my research from good to incredible. I’ve met a few of his pupils at various conferences, and simply having his name attached to their studies has secured them tenured positions at universities across the country.
Oh, to be a disciple of Jonathan Ryan.I laugh to myself. I didn’t have the advantage of “who you know” when I began my hunt for a faculty position. The closer I got to finishing and defending, the more anxious I felt about the lack of job prospects coming my way. Finally, I lucked out meeting Abigail Matthews while finishing my PhD in French Literature at the University of Montreal. She served as a guest lecturer in an intensive seminar co-taught by my majorprofessor and ended up serving as an external reader for my dissertation.
I had just finished my first year post-PhD adjunct teaching online for a few universities across Canada when I received a call from Dr. Matthews asking if I’d be interested in teaching at Middle Peak. Their French language professor was set to retire before the beginning of the next academic year and, being the head of the Literature and Languages department, she was tasked with finding his replacement. Originally I had hoped to stay closer to home in Montreal, but teaching here has been a dream come true. I attended undergrad in New England before returning to Canada for graduate school and PhD work, so I was no stranger to America. I can say, however, that eastern culture is vastly different from western. Aside from being in the same country, Rhode Island and Colorado are two different worlds.
My mobile alarm sounds and promptly ends the mental stroll down memory lane. As I stand to gather my things and head to a faculty meeting, I see Alis out my office window. She’s walking across campus with Brody Davenport, and she’s smiling up at him. I clench my fist at the thought of her cozying up to him, giving him her undivided attention and affection.
Calm down, Dex. They’re just walking and talking. People do that.I close my eyes and take a deep breath, releasing the tension that took hold of me at the sight of them together. One, I have no right to feel possessive of her. Two, Brody’s a good kid, but he’s too young for Alis. He’s what, twenty-three? I have no clue. Either way, I don’t see Alis being interested in younger men.
It doesn’t matter if she is or not, because she’s your grader and she turned you down — TWICE.I can’t think about this right now. I have five minutes to get across campus for the faculty-wide beginning of the semester meeting and walking in frustrated can only result in a hundred probing questions from Leo about my sour mood.
Just as I arrive at the auditorium door a small hand slides down my arm, caressing my bicep. “Hey, Dex. I haven’t seen you in, what,two months?” I cringe at the sound of Savannah’s voice but plaster on a smile as I turn to greet her while walking to find a seat.
