Colton’s been working toward a tenured position with his special brand of tunnel-vision determination since we were nineteen. Aligning with campus culture is taken into consideration during tenure review, especially at a small institution like Billings, and being the one and only professor to be friends with the staff isdefinitelygoing against campus culture here.
His mouth stays stubbornly straight, but the dimple in his left cheek pops the smallest bit, like he’s trained his lips not to smile but can’t wrangle his cheeks under control. “Seems dramatic.”
“It’s really not dramatic,” Inez says with a sigh. “You’ve been here for a full academic year and you haven’t noticed it?”
“I’ve noticed faculty and staff don’t spend time together, but I don’t think it’s as bad as you two make it out to be.”
“What about the way they talk over me in the Rome meetings?” she asks.
Colton winces. “Okay, yeah, I can recognize there’s some…tension. But I still don’t think being friends with a staff member will cause drama.”
“We’ve been over this,” I say. “Billings demands you pick sides! How do you think the Capulets and Montagues would’ve reacted if Romeo and Juliet were chatting in the middle of Verona’s piazza?”
He lifts an eyebrow, one side of his mouth losing the battle against his smile. “Are we star-crossed lovers? Seems I missed a step.”
“You know I mean two people on different sides of a feud. Stop trying to be clever when I’m freaking out!”
I push his shoulder with a laugh, and he grabs my hand, tugging me into his chest. I tense for half a second before letting my head find its home right over his heart, the steady beat settling my own. Even with my heels boosting me up to a solid five foot five, he dwarfs me as he let his large hand skim up and down my back.
I missed this over the last decade. We had our weekly calls and daily texts, my steady stream of consciousness and his sarcastic commentary of life in Italy. But I’m an affectionate person by nature, and I’ve always needed physical connection with the people I love. I missed feeling him, missed his reassuring hand running over my back and those hard forehead kisses when I came up with an idea that inspired him.
And if there’s a distracting new awareness that runs through my limbs from those touches? I’ll stubbornly ignore that.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I say into his chest, even though I’m beyond grateful that he is. He’s always been there. The only one I’ve been able to count on.
His chuckle reverberates through my body. “I wasn’t going to miss this.”
I tilt my head to look at him, the minuscule curve of his lips showing he isn’t taking this threat seriously at all. “I’m worried about you, Colt. Associating with me is a risk.”
“Worth it,” he says, that curve growing the smallest amount, and I pinch his side. He yelps and grabs my hands, anchoring them behind his back. “I’ll stay quiet and in the back. If anyone asks, I’m here because I’m a professor in the program and wanted to see what they decide. Deal?”
“Deal.” I bury my head back in his chest. “Thank you for being here.”
“What was that?” he asks, all dry humor.
“I hate you.”
Colton’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and he lets go of my hands to fish it out, my own last name flashing across the screen. Both of us tense, and I pull back quickly. He silences the call, slipping the phone back into his pocket.
“Take the call, Colton,” I say, turning away from him. My father won’t appreciate being ignored. At least, he never used to. I may not know him anymore, but men like him don’t change.
I’ve spoken to him a grand total of two times in the past decade, a perfunctory greeting at my brother’s engagement party where we both clearly agreed not to ruin his day, and once that same weekend when I begged him to get us access to the campus dining hall as a favor for a friend who had no idea how much it cost me. He followed that favor up with a text that just said,The door’s open when you’re done being stubborn.
Of course, his version of “not stubborn” means doing exactly what he demands of me with no consideration for my own feelings.
“I’ll call him back later. Tell him I was in a faculty meeting.”
I nod and busy myself with the notecards I brought for the presentation.
Colton grips my chin, forcing me to look at him. “If this is too hard now that I’m back, I don’t have to work with him.”
I’d never ask him to throw away his career just because my relationship with my family imploded. My award-winning, internationally respected professor of a father may be an epic asshole, but he’s also the most influential member in Colton’s field and willing to mentor him despite his connection to me. And now that he’s poured years of public support into Colton, he’d be extra vindictive if Colt cut ties.
I force a smile that Colt immediately sees through, but he lets me have it. “Hell no, let’s make having to deal with his bullshit worth something. Call him back. There’s time before we start.”
He looks into my eyes, trying to suss out if I’m really okay. The truth is I’m not—I’ll never be okay with how everything went down—but I’m notnot okayenough to have him commit career suicide.
“Okay,” he finally says. “I’ll make sure to get him off the phone quickly so I’m back in time to heckle you with the other professors.”
