“Of course you do.”
“I enjoy what I do.”
“So do I, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy time off as well.”
I sigh. “Did you come in here to remind me I’m a workaholic? Because there’s no need. I know. And I have work to do.”
Henry chuckles. “No, giving you shit is just a perk. You need it sometimes.”
I straighten some papers on my desk. “I assure you, I don’t.”
“Do you have any other plans for the summer?”
Henry asks me questions like that every holiday break, and every break my answer doesn’t change. What, am I going to go on a vacation by myself?
“Not really. You?” I ask, mostly because it’s the polite thing to do, not because I’m all that interested. I realize I’m an asshole, but I have been for as long as I can remember, and I’m too old and set in my ways to change now. I don’t understand why Henry tries so hard to be friends with me. It’s just not how I’m built.
“I have a trip planned to Greece in July. I’ve always wanted to go. My forty-fifth birthday is this summer too. If I invite you, will you come to my party?” He gives me a flirty smile. He does that sometimes, seems to be flirting with me. I don’t talk about my sexuality at work, not because I’m in the closet, but because I don’t date. Everyone knows I’m not married and don’t have kids, and since I never have a boyfriend to talk about or a photo of someone on my desk for a colleague to askabout, it doesn’t come up.
Henry is bisexual, something that’s widely known on campus. He was married to a woman for ten years and has dated both women and men since I’ve known him. I never know if his flirting is serious. In some ways, he reminds me of Colton, like he’s the kind of guy who simply enjoys being flirty without it meaning anything, and…why am I thinking about Colton?
It’s been a couple of weeks since we met. We haven’t spoken again, and I don’t plan on it. What’s the point? We’ve had our fun, and that’s the end of it. I hate how…open I feel when I’m in a scene, hate that the man I’m with can see the real me, when I don’t want to ever let anyone that close. The second time it felt like he saw even more of me than before. Colton looks deeper than most people, doesn’t just take what’s on the surface, and I don’t have anything but surface to give.
“James?” Henry says my name, and I realize I never replied.
“I’m not a real party person.”
“I think you’re probably more fun than you realize.” He grins again. “Come on. It’ll be a good time.”
I shift uncomfortably. “When is it?”
“I haven’t planned the date yet, but I’ll keep you posted, and I’m holding you to your yes.”
I cock a brow at him. “I don’t believe I said yes.”
“You insinuated it.” Henry stands. “I’m going to get you to have some fun, Professor Valentine, even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming into it.”
“What’s fun?” I find myself joking.
“See? I like you.” My cell phone rings, and Henry says, “Okay, I’ll let you go. I’ll call you. Maybe we can go out sometime? Dinner or something?”
Before I can figure out what the hell is going on and ifHenry just asked me out on a date, he slips out of my office, closing the door behind him.
What. The hell. Was that?
My phone rings again, and my heart speeds up the second I see the area code. 541. Oregon. My mouth goes dry, and for a second I consider not answering. Why would someone from my home state be calling me? I left at eighteen and haven’t been back, haven’t even spoken to anyone there since I left.
Another ring.
Answer it.
Don’t.
Answer it.
Don’t.
But I can’t. There can be only one reason someone would call. My mother.
