TWENTY-FOUR
Alis
Dexter: Tu es libre pour déjeuner aujourd'hui? (Are you free for lunch today?)
My phone buzzed earlier during class, but I waited to check it until my lecture was finished. I am free for lunch today, but I’ve done a stellar job at avoiding Dexter since we basically held hands last week during our evening conversation. A text not responded to is akin to the red notification bubble on my phone screen — that is, nails on a chalkboard — so I have to respond.
I consider texting Skye to ask her opinion, but I already know what she’ll say.Why am I overthinking this? It’s just lunch.
Alis: Oui, ça me ferait plaisir. (Yes, I’d like that.)
No going back now.I don’t have to wait a full minute before he responds.
Dexter: Merveilleux. On se retrouve à mon bureau à midi? (Wonderful. Shall we meet at my officeat noon?)
Alis: À plus tard. (See you later.)
At ten to noon I walk into L&L and see Dexter coming out of his office before I even have the chance to greet Deborah. He looks up and smiles when he sees me — a full-on, no-holding-back smile as opposed to his typical half smile.
“Hey,” he says. “You hungry?”
His smile is contagious. I can’t figure out if my carefully constructed wall of defense is in ruins or temporarily unguarded since I’m willingly here as Alis, the woman, and not Alis, the grader and student. He’s Dexter, the man, to me right now, and it’s evident from the light in his eyes that he knows it. I haven’t seen him this transparent since the night at the bar.
I’ve spent the last few months fighting my attraction to him, hiding large pieces of myself during every interaction out of fear and self-preservation. My heart feels lighter right now than it has in God only knows how long. I can breathe. I can smile. I can … not stop thinking about touching him and kissing him.
Shit. Good feeling’s gone.We’re on campus, in L&L, with Deborah not ten feet away.Oh, Dexter. That megawatt smile is not appropriate for campus use.My brain drifts off to cartoon land, replacing Dexter’s smile with a banana, and I try not to laugh.
What was it Monty Python said about defending oneself from a man with a banana?Now, it’s quite simple to defend yourself against a man armed with a banana. First of all, you force him to drop the banana— don’t think he can drop a mouth attached to his face, but he could dial it back a bit. Bring back the half smile that’s only slightly less swoon-worthy.Then, second, you eat the banana, thus disarming him— that’s a negative, ghost rider. I can’t eat his smile. Not in public. Thinking about kissing him is what has me raising my defenses in the first place.You have now rendered him helpless.
Oh, but how wrong you are, Monty Python. The only helpless one in this lobby right now is me.
“Alis?” Dexter asks. I blink and return his smile, “Yeah, sorry. I’mready.” I nod my head toward the exit and turn to walk that way, Dexter falling into step beside me.
“What are you hungry for?” His jovial attitude would be contagious if I wasn’t so dumbstruck by how beautiful he is.
“I’m fine with whatever.” I shrug. “I’m not due anywhere until Sunny gets out of school, so I just need to leave campus around 2:30. Nico’s is fine.”
Once we exit the building, Dexter starts walking toward the parking lot, as opposed to across campus to the popular pizza joint. “Not Nico’s,” he says. “Let’s go somewhere off campus. Somewhere we can talk.”
“Should we take two cars?” I adjust the messenger bag on my shoulder and keep in step with him.
“Not necessary. We won’t venture too far,” he assures. I nod in assent and Dexter places a hand at the small of my back, steering me toward his car. The black Range Rover is not what I expected Dexter Belanger to drive, especially since it looks brand new.
“You drive a Range Rover?! How do you afford that on a professor’s salary?” Please don’t tell me he’s one of those secret millionaires like the men in romance novels. I swear those unrealistic characters piss me off. Just be a professor, for the love of Pete.
Dexter laughs at my incredulous expression. “Well, for starters, it’s about ten years old and I bought it when I moved here three years ago.”
“Ten years old?” I’m unapologetically dumbstruck by this revelation. “But it’s soshiny!”
“What can I say?” he shrugs. “I take care of my things.”Does that mean he’d take care of Sunny and me as well?Pause. Where did that thought come from? I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself thankyouverymuch, brain.
Dexter opens the passenger door and I climb in, equally as impressed with the inside.
“I’m surprised your car is this clean on the inside,” I say, a hint of mischief in my tone.
“Oh, la vache. I told you, I take care of my things.” He pulls out ofthe parking space, heading toward the exit. Heading out of the safe campus bubble where I’m tightly insulated in imaginary bubble wrap, also known as my titles of grader and student.
“From the state of your desk, you could have fooled me.” I expect a scoff, but Dexter just chuckles and shakes his head.
