“Let’s do that. But, Alis,” I start.
I wait to continue, needing her to hear my next words loud and clear. “Yes?” she prompts.
“Don’t be afraid of this. Of us. Okay? And don’t regret taking the time you needed to get to this point. Let’s just let things take their course, and never be sorry.”
She offers an unbridled smile my way, “Never be sorry.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Alis
“So,we’re doing this. I want this — us.” I gesture between us with my fork, as if ‘us’ requires defining. “However,” I start, “I need rules.”
“Rules?” Dexter repeats. “What kinds of rules?” He continues eating, and I’m thankful he doesn’t plan to interject while I explain myself.
“Well, first, we can’t be ‘together’ on campus.” I’m surprised he doesn’t shoot me an annoyed look; he simply nods, finishes his bite, and asks, “By together you mean we can’t act like a couple, correct? Because it’s kind of difficult to never be together when you’re my grader. And before you say it — don’t even think about stopping our weekly lunch meetings.”
I roll my eyes at his assertiveness. “That’s not what I was going to say. Yes, I mean we cannot act like a couple on campus. And no, I don’t plan on canceling our weekly lunch meetings. But I don’t want to meet alone in your office.”
This perplexes him. “We meet alone in my office all the time.”
“This is true, but all of those meetings took placebeforeus.” Flashbacks of Margaret opening Dr. Ryan’s office door, seeing me atmy lowest point. The things she insinuated and the insults she attacked me with that day will forever haunt me. A shiver runs down my spine. Loathing and bitterness and anger I’ve buried so deeply for so long. I try to keep a lid on it, but my next words are sharp — too sharp.
“It’s non-negotiable, Dexter. I’m serious. I will not meet with you alone in your officeeveragain. We can discuss whatever we need to discuss in your pod conference room, at a picnic table on campus, or even at Nico’s. But not in your office. Never again in your office.”
Dexter never resumed eating once I made this my hill to die on, and he can’t hide the hurt on his face. “You don’t actually think I’d try anything with you in my office, do you?”
Way to go, Alis. You’re off to a great start with this relationship thing.
“It’s not that, exactly,” I begin. “It’s just …” I pause, not wanting to rehash the past. Not wanting to make a mountain out of a molehill. Not wanting to explain to Dexter something that never actually happened in the first place. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, honestly. The need to remain strictly professional while on campus is important to me, okay? I’m not trying to hide from anyone, but I, personally, need the separation. I won’t clam up and push you away if and when someone from MPU sees us out to dinner or somewhere else, but on campus, I need for you to be Dr. Belanger and for me to be Alis, your grader. When it inevitably gets out that we’re together, I don’t want there to be any question about our working relationship and whether or not we’ve done anything inappropriate. I can’t have my professional integrity called into question. Or yours.”
“Speaking of,” I continue, but Dexter does interject this time.
“I already spoke with Abigail about us.” I freeze.What did he just say?!
“You did what?” I ask, once again failing miserably at holding back the sharpness in my tone. “When? And for fuck’s sake, Dexter, why?!” I don’t lose my cool like this. Not ever. It’s as if making the decision to succumb to my feelings for Dexter and then kissing him senseless in the car has snapped every bit of self-control I oncepossessed. I am now a loose canon, full of emotions, without walls to keep everything carefully contained within.
I can’t do this.Feelall of — ofthis. Everything. All of it. The feelings. All of them. I can’t even form complete thoughts right now. When the hell did my internal monologue derail itself and crash into a forest of stuttering trees?!
I can feel my heart rate rise in my chest. The tension. The panic. What is happening to me right now?! I don’t panic. I don’t worry. I don’t take control of kisses with men and devour them. I don’t fantasize about removing their clothing with my teeth. A PROFESSOR’S CLOTHING. WITH. MY. TEETH.
I feel the bench cushion shift, and then Dexter is next to me, his arm wrapped around my shoulder, and he pulls me into his body. “Shhh,” he soothes. “Everything is alright. You are alright. We are alright. Just breathe, Alis.”
Feeling him pull me close, the tension begins to seep from my body. The ominous spots dancing at the periphery of my vision retreat, and I draw my first deep breath in seemingly endless minutes.What just happened?
“Do you often get panic attacks?” Dexter’s voice is tender, his hand tracing comforting paths up and down my arm.
“No,” my reply is a whisper, a lingering dizziness and confusion clouding my thoughts, perplexed by this sudden emotional tempest. He holds me firmly, his lips gently kissing my temple, instilling in me a sense of safety that has been absent for years.
“I’m not sure what triggered it,” I lie. “Not specifically, I mean.” My mind races — so many bags to unpack. Bags I didn’t even realize were in my possession. These emotions are too complex to unpack in a one-hour lunch break.
“Do you trust me?” Dexter's question hangs in the air, his arm steadfast around me, yet he pulls back just enough to allow our eyes to meet. My response is as candid as my tangled emotions allow, “I don’t know. I want to. I mean, I do. I…”
He interrupts gently, “It’s okay, Alis. There’s no need for a definitive answer right now. Trust is a journey; it takes time. I knowyou trust me; you just haven’t realized it yet.” My brows knit together at his calm confidence, particularly because I don’t understand how he can be so calm, so sure, when I feel anything but.
“May I explain why I spoke with Abigail concerning my feelings for you?” he asks. Had he worded the revelation this way the first time I probably wouldn’t have reacted so harshly.
“Please,” I nod for him to continue.
