“I’m sorry,” I say, “I can’t this weekend.” I resume my walk and Brody doesn’t miss a beat, falling in step beside me.
“Why not? Got plans? We could go next weekend if you’re free.” His tone sounds hopeful, and I don’t want to upset him. I also don’t really want to hang out with him outside of seeing him on campus.
“Yeah, I’m slammed this weekend.” Not really, but Skye isn’t here to keep Sunny and I don’t need to explain my reasoning to anyone. “Maybe another time, yeah?” That should do it. Not a yes, not a no. Don’t smash his hopes, but also, hopefully, don’t lead him on.
Why am I so spineless and awkward when confronted withuncomfortable social situations?!
Brody seems placated for now. He smiles and runs his hand through his dark hair, then grips the back of his neck. “Yeah, another time. Maybe sometime in the next few weeks.” It’s not a question; it’s a statement. I don’t respond verbally; I just give him a small, friendly smile in acknowledgment of his words.
Once we arrive at the Languages and Literature building, I turn to say goodbye and Brody reaches out and grasps my wrist lightly. “I’m really glad I ran into you today. I’ve missed seeing you on campus this last week.”
This isn’t awkward at all. “Um, yeah. It was great seeing you, too. Hopefully, I won’t get sick again anytime soon so I won’t have to miss class and play catchup.” Brody chuckles, hand still on my wrist, refusing to break eye contact. “Don’t worry about the classes you missed. I’ll email you the notes.”
“Thanks, I really appreciate that.” I offer him a genuine smile because I’m incredibly thankful that I don’t have to track down the notes I missed taking. The PowerPoints in that class are useless, as our prof goes off on tangents frequently and the sidebars hold the truly important information.
“I’ll see you next week, yeah?” I ask, taking a small step away from Brody in hopes he’ll release his grasp on my wrist. “Yeah. Have a good weekend, Alis.” Before I can step away any further, Brody pulls on my wrist slightly, leans down, and grazes my cheek with his lips.
I don’t know how to react to his obviously more-than-friendly goodbye, so I just say, “Bye” and march up the building stairs as quickly as possible without looking back.Am I thirty or am I thirteen?
Shaking out of my stupor, I turn back to look at him before opening the door and say, “You’re a great friend, Brody. Thanks for helping me adjust to life here these last few months. I really appreciate it.” He smiles up at me and I see the disappointment in his eyes, which means I must have communicated my intentions clearly, and read his just as well.
“Anytime, Alis. See you next week.” Then he turns and walksaway, and I head in to meet with Dr. Matthews.
I climb the stairs, evaluating the thoughts and feelings that coursed through me as Brody kissed my cheek. Not that I’d ever entertain a romantic relationship with him, but my internal reaction to his lips on my cheek was stronger than non-interest. I felt annoyed, frustrated, and most curiously, I felt as if his lips on my skin was a form of betrayal.
Betrayal? To whom?! Why am I even asking myself that question? I can push aside my attraction and pull toward Dexter Belanger every chance I get, but with each suppression the feelings strengthen and the internal pressure builds.
Maybe I can appease this felt need for him with a timeline. Alis, you will not succumb to your desire for Dexter Belanger until you are no longer his grader, nor a student at Middle Peak University. That’s what, two years tops? Five if I stay here for my Ph.D.
I can’t decide whether admitting my feelings for Dexter to myself is helping or hurting my cause. On one hand, I’m no longer lying to myself. On the other, being honest with myself about how much I want him makes the temptation to cave that much stronger.
Two years of pent-up sexual tension will only serve to make the release all the more blissful when it happens. That is, if it doesn’t erupt like a volcano before then. What if he meets someone else before I’m ready? How will I handle seeing him with another woman, touching another woman, or, heaven forbid, kissing another woman?Ugh!This is why I refused to admit to myself that I want him. Now I’ve gone and made myself vulnerable to the possibility of a broken heart and unrealized dreams. I’ve had enough heartbreak in this life; I don’t need any more.
Head on straight, Aurora Jane Gilmore. Focus on what’s important, not on messy, overwhelming, unstable feelings toward a man. A gorgeous, six-foot-tall, swoon-worthy man. Nope. Don’t go there. Focus. Sunny. School. Work. Priorities.
Lord, help my resolve.
Dexter
I’ve just stepped onto the sidewalk from the parking lot when I see Alis and Brody nearing the L&L building together. I don’t have a meeting scheduled with her today, but maybe she plans to stop in and say a quick hello? Most likely not, but a man can wish.
I’m still a good twenty meters away when I see him reach for her wrist. She doesn’t stop him; she doesn’t pull away. Then he leans down and kisses her cheek before she ascends the stairs to my building. Just before entering she turns and says something else to him, a smile spread wide across her face.Are you fucking kidding me? That boy is a child. Why the hell were his lips on her?!
She enters the building without noticing my approach, but Brody sees me when he turns to leave. “Hey, Dr. Belanger! How are you?” His laid-back demeanor conveys no discomfort, like kissing Alis and then seeing me is a normal part of his every day.
“Brody. Hi,” I say, giving him a stiff smile and a nod before walking up the stairs to head to my office. I don’t want to be rude to the kid, but I also don’t think I can keep my true feelings unreadable.
I’m still reeling from the thought of Brody’s lips on Alis when I enter the lobby area of Pod A. Deborah looks up from her computer as I enter and stops mid-smile when she sees me. Before she can get a word in I ask, “Is Alis in my office?” Deborah looks confused, as she should. “No, sir. I haven’t even seen her in the building today. Did I miss an appointment on your calendar?”
“No. You didn’t forget anything. I have the days mixed up in my head,” I say, easing her worried expression. “Any messages?”
“No, sir.” Deborah looks back to her computer, clicking a few times in search of my calendar, adding, “And no meetings the rest of today.”
“Perfect,” I nod, my tone sharp. “Please set my line to ‘do not disturb’. I’ll be in my office the rest of the afternoon working on some things and would prefer not to be interrupted.” Deborah nods in acknowledgment and I walk into my office, closing the door behind me.
I don’t understand my visceral reaction to this woman. I spent years with Laura, and I genuinely loved her, but I don’t remember ever feeling this crazed when another man paid her any attention. Perhaps I never felt threatened because I knew she was mine — Alis, however, is not mine. Is there something special about her or is the thrill and frustration of the chase messing with me?
I honestly have no idea. Alis and I certainly have more in common than Laura and I ever did. We like the same books, have similar personalities, and have nearly identical senses of humor. I hate it when people say “we’re the same person!” but I’ll be damned if I’ve ever met another woman who harmonizes with me so well. We’re singing the same song, and if we could only sing it together the resulting duet would be symphonic.
