23. Emerson
TWENTY-THREE
EMERSON
After the night on the roof, I guess you could say Bryce and I are officially a couple.
I’m nervous because I’m not used to being part of a couple, but it’s easy with him. Not much has changed between us. We still make each other laugh, talk about each other’s days, and have meals together. We walk Bobo. And there’s the sex. It’s fantastic, and it all feels effortless.
Each day when I return home from class, Bryce and I have dinner and take Bobo for a long, meandering walk. I could get used to a life like this, and maybe I will, because my big interview is coming up in a few days.
Sheena added the daylong meeting to my calendar this morning after my lecture. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the notification pop up. This is it—my shot to get in with the University of New York. Permanently.
“It’s not like a regular interview,” I tell Bryce over Chinese takeout the next night.
“It’s an all-day affair. First, I have to give a lecture to a panel of graduate students and faculty.
Then, I meet one-on-one with three tenured faculty members.
Then Sheena. That’s the one part I’m not worried about.
” I pull my lips in and swallow. “And finally, the dean.”
“Jesus, that’s a lot of talking, even for me.”
I give up on chopsticks one minute into the meal, but Bryce continues to fight the good fight. At this point, he’s stabbing pieces of his chicken and shoving them into his mouth.
“I’ll be questioned extensively on my research and work history.” I twirl lo mein onto my fork, yet my appetite begins to fade.
“Bring a jug of water so your mouth doesn’t get dry. Oh, we can do vocal exercises in the morning to perfect your enunciation, too.” He piles three more pieces of chicken on his chopstick like they’re kebabs. “We should also do some stretches to engage your core. You don’t want to be slouching.”
“Holy crap. This is it, Bryce.” The panic hits suddenly, like an attack of appendicitis. “This day is going to determine my entire future. I can’t only survive this gauntlet of interviews—I need to thrive.”
Bryce presses his fingers together, a sly smile on his face.
“Why are you smiling?” This isn’t the reaction I was expecting.
“It’s a final callback,” he says with a knowing grin.
“What’s that?”
“Actually it’s more than that. It’s a final callback plus chemistry read.
” Bryce puts down his chopstick. The wheels are turning in his head.
“Actors go through multiple auditions to get a part, until they reach the final callback. This is the big one with all the stakeholders present. The director, the producers, and the more famous co-star, with whom they’ll have to do a chemistry read to see if they spark together.
You need to show them how chemistratible you are with the department. ”
“Chemistratible isn’t a word.”
“Give it time. I’m in the process of making it catch on.” Bryce moves my takeout container to the coffee table.
Admittedly, I’m not the most … chemistratible person out there. But I landed a guy like Bryce, so maybe there’s hope.
“Whenever we have a big audition coming up, what do we do?”
“We practice,” I say.
“So all we have to do is practice here. Now, a final callback is different from an audition because you have to impress on a new level. They already know who you are. They already like you. But it’s about whether they love you.
You gotta make them fall in love with you.
And I’m not just talking about putting on a tight pair of pants with no underwear and suggestively crossing and uncrossing your legs during the interview, because that won’t work here. ”
“Did you actually do that during an audition?”
Bryce lets out a laugh that doesn’t answer my question. “Most quote-unquote ‘tricks’ won’t work here. You need to form a genuine love connection. Fortunately, I know you’re very capable of that.”
He gently tugs at the tip of my beard and gives me a wink.
“So you want me to flirt with my interviewers?”
“Oh, Emerson. You can’t even flirt with a gum wrapper, and that’s why you’re so endearing.
” He pats my head. “You flirt with intelligence. When you’re into a subject, your whole face lights up.
Like Turandot . You gotta show them what you know, and they’re going to fall in love with you.
” Bryce pats my knee. “So we practice. Make sure you have good answers filed away that illuminate your intellect.”
Once again, Bryce manages to make sense.
I can’t be stumbling through those important questions.
I can’t stutter when discussing my research, nor can I afford to go off on tangents or ramble.
I must be succinct. “They’ll ask me about my work history and what I’m working on.
Why this department, why this university?
They’ll ask how I can really make an impact here.
Because as much as it’s about helping students, it’s about getting out research, getting published, and building a name for myself, which will reflect nicely on the university. ”
Academia is such a game. Is it really about talent or smarts?
I don’t know. But there’s no use in questioning that.
Bryce is right. This is a final callback, a chemistry read, and I’ve got to make them fall in love with me—because I don’t want to leave New York and the guy who I’m in love with here.
Love. I’m in love with Bryce.
“Bobo, I’ve given you four pieces of my chicken,” Bryce says to a whimpering dog.
“Bryce. I … I … love you.”
“Are you trying to get some chicken too?” He holds up a chopstick skewered with meat.
I wait for him to connect the dots.
“Wait, what did you say?” He blinks a few times, then shakes his head. “I wasn’t ready. Say it again.” He puts the chopstick down, licks his palm, and smooths it over his hair. “Okay, ready.”
“I love you, Bryce Derrickson.”
“You do?”
“I do,” I repeat with a nod.
Bryce’s eyes linger, soft and open. There’s a slight parting of his beautiful lips, like he wants to speak but isn’t sure what to say. And then he takes a deep breath, and the words come out.
“I love you too. So much. I didn’t want to be the first to say it. But wait, maybe I should have. Do you want to take it back? Then I can go first. Take it back.” He makes a strange noise, like static, and waves his hand in front of my face.
“Nope. It doesn’t matter who said it first. It matters that we both feel it.”
Bryce smiles. And yeah, I really do love this man.
“And that’s why I have to nail this interview,” I say. “If I don’t, I’ll have to find a job somewhere else. Somewhere not here.”
“I mean you don’t”—he raises the chicken chopstick, using it to accentuate his point—“have to nail the interview. I mean, you do, I want you to, of course, but Emerson, I don’t care if you move to the moon, you’re not getting rid of me.”
“The moon?”
“The moon. Florida.” He shivers. “You know what I mean. I’m only saying don’t let the pressure of wanting to stay in the city derail you from the work at hand.” He waves the chicken, and Bobo makes a whiny begging noise. “Buddy, I’m hungry. You have dog food. Let me have my human food.”
Bobo shrugs and comes up to me.
“Hey, listen to your dad. We’re not doing good cop, bad cop this time.”
He gets the hint and goes full teenager, choosing to sulk away to the bed.
“Okay, let’s do some prep. I’m pulling up an article about questions asked in a professor interview,” Bryce says, staring at his phone. “First question: How does your research contribute to the field of music theory?”
“I want to explore contemporary applications of eighteenth-century artists …” As I talk, I get distracted.
“Bryce, what are you doing?”
Bryce undoes the top button of his shirt.
“Are you hot? Want me to open a window?”
“No. Keep going.”
I launch into my interest in Haydn’s role as father of the symphony but stop again when Bryce undoes another button.
“I can bring out the box fan,” I say.
“No need. Keep going.”
I finish my answer, and this time, Bryce doesn’t touch his shirt, which was distracting me for multiple reasons.
“Good! Next question: Explain your teaching philosophy.”
“That’s a … that’s a great question. I believe in engaging st udents somewhere between where they are and asking them to go one level deeper. You’re unbuttoning your shirt again.”
Bryce pops open three more buttons, leaving one at the bottom. His chest comes into view.
“You are going to be under a lot of pressure. I am trying to replicate those circumstances as best I can.” He undoes the last button and tosses his shirt to the floor. “You will need to work extra hard to maintain concentration and stay on track. Can you do it, Professor?”
I can see the logic in that. I can also see Bryce without his shirt—throwing logic out the window. My pants immediately tighten, but I have to stay focused.
“Okay, next question,” I say.
“Good. How do you see yourself fitting into the department?” Bryce asks.
“Well,” I begin to go into my answer as Bryce unzips his fly, stands up, and shakes off his pants.
God, his body was meant to be stared at. The David could never. My mind starts to wander to all the things I want to do to him.
Bryce snaps a finger in my face. “Concentrate.”
I continue with my answer. I think it sounds good. Bryce seems happy.
“Okay, very nice. Where do you see yourself in five years?”
“Still teaching at the University of New York. Pursuing more interdisciplinary research.”
Bryce puts a thumb under his waistband, teasing me. Is he going to take them off? Is he not?
I love the way his stomach hangs slightly over his waistband. There’s so much in there, so much to grab. Kiss. Lick. Damn, he’s intoxicating.
“You know, I don’t think this is working,” I say.
“Emerson, you’re so close. Don’t give up now.
If you think you’re nervous and uncomfortable now, just wait.
You’re getting interview-gang-banged in a few days.
The better you are at breathing through your nose, the more successful you’ll be.
” Bryce and I both cock an eyebrow at his statement. “Ah, you know what I mean.”
He gets on his knees. I gulp a lump back in my throat.
“Tell me, Professor … how would you involve students in your research? Would you be … hands on?” Bryce grabs my aching crotch.
“Absolutely,” I say, as all breath leaves my body. My heart immediately jumps into my throat.
“Keep talking, Professor.”
He looks up. Those big hazel eyes—so much going on behind them. He undoes my fly, takes out my rock-hard dick.
“Right. I welcome students interested in helping me with research. We can … dive deep together.” I gasp. I’m so hard right now, it’s like I have an extra thick chopstick down there.
“Keep talking,” he says, as he lowers his beautiful mouth on me.
Somehow, I push through the epic blast of ecstasy lighting up my body. I’m trying to find the academic side of my brain, reaching for it.
“Collaboration is key. I think there’s a misconception that our field doesn’t require research assistants, so it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.
” I watch as Bryce bobs up and down on my cock, never breaking eye contact with me.
I reach up and adjust my hearing aid, and the subtle slurping noises come alive.
Gosh, he’s beautiful. “We need to actively recruit students to get involved and show them what they can do. Research isn’t just about sitting in a lab. Oh my god your mouth is incredible.”
Bryce pops up from my lap. “You should refrain from saying ‘oh my god’ in an interview. It doesn’t sound professional. And finally, do you have any questions for us?”
He goes back down, taking every inch of me until my brain short circuits.
“Oh, yeah?—”
“I think you should use ‘yes.’ Academic setting and all,” he says.
“Fuck.”
“I would avoid cursing, too.”
I push Bryce’s head back down. His tongue works magic around my head before he runs his lips up and down the shaft. Finally, he darts his tongue under my balls, getting right into that super sensitive spot, and sending me hurtling toward the edge.
“Oh fuck. God.” I gasp out helplessly and tap him on the shoulder to let him know I’m about to blow. I nudge him again, but he only speeds up, my cock lodged in his mouth, which is so hot it pushes me to climax.
Bryce swallows like a champ, gulping, moaning, and my eyes damn near roll back in my skull.
When I finally finish, he takes one last suck, wipes a bit of cum dripping from his lower lip, and finally chases it with half a fortune cookie.
He holds up the slip of paper and reads.
“Congrats! You’ve earned a nap … and maybe a cookie. ”
He nods, pops the other half of the treat into his mouth, and swallows. “Good job. How do you think that went?”
To his credit, the words that came out must’ve been lodged deep in my brain, because if I can pull them up during a time like this, then I won’t ever forget them.
“I can’t believe I spoke intelligently under such duress.”
“Hopefully it bodes well for your interview. Just remember, Emerson, you got this. Whatever happened in the past happened, but each day we’re a new person. So give them hell.”
We curl up on the couch together naked and being here with him like this, I feel like I’ve already won the biggest prize in the world .
“Look at us. The dancer and the professor.” Bryce moves down and nestles into my chest. “I have my new show. You are on the verge of getting your teaching position. We’re really about to have it all, Em.”
“That we are,” I say back.
And nothing could be better.