“Yes, ma’am,” I reply. “I’ve got my schedule situated and I’m yours all week.”
She continues. “Excellent. I have an overlap with a few meetings I cannot reschedule, but I’ve talked with Belanger and he’s going to teach those segments.”
I pause in my note-taking when she says his name and look up at her. “Dr. Belanger? Are those segments not something I could teach?”Way to be subtle, Alis.
Dr. Matthews looks up from her planner, removing her glasses. I try to put on my best “nothing going on here” face, but she probably senses something’s off with my tone.
Placing the foot of her glasses in her mouth, Dr. Matthews ponders for a few seconds before responding. “You know what, you make a great point. You could teach most of them yourself.”Oh, thank you, Jesus. I let out the breath I was holding and hope she didn’t hear my obvious sigh of relief.Wait, did she say ‘most’?
“Not all of them, though,” she continues.Son of a bitch! Celebrated too soon. “Two of the segments are in Belanger’s wheelhouse and I believe the students would benefit from his teaching in those areas. Not to mention the students will want a reprieve from my blunt nature and could use some eye candy with a fun uncle demeanor.” She laughs to herself and I try not to react to the fact that she just referred to Dexter Belanger as eye candy.
Apparently, I’m trying too hard not to react, thus painting an awkward expression on my face. “Do you not agree?” she inquires, teasingly.
I don’t want to answer that. “Um, sure. Yeah.” Smooth. Real smooth.
Dr. Matthews laughs, “You don’t have to play coy. Any woman with eyes can see that man is gorgeous.”
I blush and shrug. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
“Anyway, moving on,” she chuckles as she returns her glasses to her face.Thank God.
An hour later I leave her office armed with an updated schedule for the intensive, which includes two celebrity appearances by one Dexter Belanger.At least I have a heads-up.
As I walk back through campus after the meeting, I reflect on the last few weeks’ grader meetings with Dexter. I’ve grown more comfortable in his presence, and I can confidently say Dexter Belanger has become more than just a professor I grade for — he’s a friend. We don’t talk about anything truly deep in our meetings, but the fact that we share lunch together at each meeting encourages conversation topics outside his upcoming assignments and my responsibilities toward his students.
I expected Dexter to ambush me with questions about Sunny after he met her, but thankfully he’s kept questions light — focusing mainly on favorite authors and books, my career aspirations, and the like. I haven’t had anyone to fawn over French literature with in nearly a decade, so it’s nice to lose myself for half an hour in conversation about Duras’sThe Lover, Zola’sThérèse Raquin, and even modern French novelists such as Gilles Legardinier and Guillaume Musso.
My life the past nine years may have seemed boring to some, but I never stopped reading. Physically, I was in Moraine, but for at least an hour a day I lost myself in worlds created by some of the world’s best authors — not just French.
I’ve loved learning about Dexter’s varying tastes in books and I respect his opinions concerning French literature, both new and old. We don’t like all the same books or writers, but we love literature as a whole.
I imagine what it will be like to sit in the lecture hall while heteaches. I hadn’t expected this opportunity since I never plan to take any of his courses, and honestly, I’m looking forward to it.
I briefly close my eyes and revel in visions of him at the front of the room, hair knotted back away from his face, his button-down shirt neatly tucked into his trousers with the sleeves rolled up his forearms.
I’m just getting to the good part of my daydream — the part where he looks at me in the back row, smiles, and winks — when I trip for the second time today.Dammit!Brody is not here to catch me this time, so I hit the brick walkway, hard, and tear a hole in the knee of my favorite red tights.
To make matters worse, my glasses fall off my face when I trip and land face down on the brick.Fuck. My. Life.I retrieve my glasses and inspect them for scratches. A damp yellow leaf clings to one lens, but other than that I don’t see any irreparable damage. I’ll find out for sure once I’m home and have better lighting.
Did anyone see that?Of course, they did, Alis. You’re walking across campus in the middle of a weekday afternoon.
Thankfully none of the passersby are close enough to lend aid and draw more attention to my blunder. I stand, brush the bit of dirt and leaves off my skirt, knees, and shins, readjust my messenger bag across my front, and carry on.Nothing to see here, folks.
Scuffed palms, ruined tights, a scraped and slightly bloody knee, shattered confidence in my ability to walk and doanythingelse simultaneously — the consequences of fantasizing about Dexter Belanger.
As if I need any more reasons to keep him at arms’ length.Sorry, Sexy Dexy, but you’re a hazard to my person.
Dexter
I’m walking toward my car at the end of the day when I hear my name being called by a familiar voice. I turn and see Dr. Matthews walking toward me, briefcase in hand and her long peacoat buttonedand knotted at her waist with a popped collar in an attempt to keep out more of the chilly autumn air. Add a deerstalker and she’d be a right Sherlock Holmes.
“Dr. Matthews,” I give her a nod, acknowledging her as she approaches me.
“Dexter, I’m so glad I caught you. Do you have a minute?” She’s winded from her power walk.
“Sure thing. Everything alright?” I ask while she calms her breaths, now only the cool temps are affecting her.
“Yes. It’s about my intensive and the lectures you’re presenting that week.” Ah, she must be adding to my workload, yet again. Not that I mind. More time filling in for Abigail means more time with Alis.
