8. Chapter 8
Chapter 8
VIVIAN
“ I t was brought to my attention that not everyone has time outside of class to devote to the group project,” Professor Edwards says. “And I do understand that many of you have outside commitments, so for the next two weeks I will allow the last twenty to thirty minutes of class for you to exchange information and ideas for your group project. After this time, I will have to insist that any other meetings be done on your own time or via email.”
I feel my pulse pick up at this news.
“So with that, let’s get on with our class today so I can be sure to leave enough time for your group projects,” Professor Edwards says and then starts the class for the night.
I secure myself a seat on one side of a large older man in the class, and lean back so that I am blocked by him. I am not interested in being stared at by Declan again. And though he said he would stop doing it, I am trying to be proactive. But it isn’t just because it annoys me. On the contrary, I have done nothing but think about him since our last meeting, wondering if the staring means something else. And I blame Bailey and her crazy theories for it.
Just the night before as I got ready for work, I was complaining about Declan, and when I took a breath in my complaints, Bailey spoke up. “You like him,” she teased.
“What?” I asked, totally taken off guard since she had interrupted me mimicking Declan.
“You like this guy,” Bailey repeated, giving me a Cheshire cat grin.
I looked at her with complete disgust. “That is the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said. I have been complaining about this weirdo since he stared at me for the entire time last week, and then when he was so rude to me when I confronted him about it. And you think I like him?”
“Mm-hmm,” Bailey said, biting her lower lip and nodding, a wicked gleam in her eye.
“No, I do not like him.”
Bailey rolled her eyes and sat up cross-legged on the bed, facing me as I sat on the other side. “Viv, I love you, girl, but you are fixated on this guy. I think it’s not because of how much he annoys you, but about how much you like him.”
“Bailey,” I replied evenly, “I love you back, but you are delusional, and I think you may have inhaled too many cleaning fumes last night at work.”
Bailey rolled her eyes at me. “Viv, I’ve got way more experience on crushing than you do. You are too focused and matter-of-fact. I have been lovesick over every stupid trashcan of a man in a twenty-mile radius. This is fixation because you want to hate him, but you have fallen for his bad boy charm.”
I continued to deny it the entire time I got ready and left for work, where I could be found zoning out considering the possibility of Bailey being right. And now, twenty-four hours later, I am in class, avoiding the stare of Declan and trying to convince myself that it isn’t because I like him; it is because I don’t.
Yes, I may have described him as “sexy brooding type,” and I may have said he is a stupid bad boy fantasy, but I meant it as an insult.
Not as a turn-on.
“…and so what do we think is the root cause of this thinking?” Professor Edwards asks, and I realize I am letting this crazy asshole distract me from class. From my path. From my goals.
Nope, not gonna happen.
No excuses, Vivian , I remind myself.
I listen to a couple of people speak and the back-and-forth debate, getting the gist of the discussion. When another question is posed, I jump right in, forcing myself to get my head back in the game. No excuses, I repeat again to myself. I can’t let some guy, no matter how handsome, get in my head and distract me from my goals.
An hour later our discussion has generated lots of opinions. I am heatedly debating with an older woman about whether doing the right thing is better for all ethical purposes for a business, which is what I believe, while she is saying that sometimes the wrong thing needs to be done for the greater good.
“Well, I do think this is the impasse that many businesses find themselves in just as you two women are finding it at this time,” Professor Edwards interjects. “And so let us end it there for tonight, and as promised, please get together with your group to review project information.”
I sit still and watch as everyone moves into groups, until it is just Declan and me sitting in the now defunct circle. I turn to him, and his gray-blue eyes never leave mine as he stands and strides over to me, turning the desk next to mine around to face me.
“Hello, Vivian,” Declan says, his deep rumbling voice sending shivers through me.
“Hello,” I reply, reaching down and opening my backpack. I have to push several binders and an expandable file folder aside to retrieve my notebook that holds my research.
“Your backpack is pretty full,” Declan comments.
I glance quickly to see him peering down at my bag. “Yes,” I acknowledge, pulling my bag out of his view and zipping it closed. “Do you have your research?”
Declan nods, and I wait for him to produce something, even a folded piece of paper from his pocket, from behind his ear, or up his sleeve. Anywhere really.
But nothing. He just sits there looking at me. “Where is your stuff?” I ask as calmly as I can. This is how I learned to approach things. Calmly. When you get too fired up, emotions get involved that have no business there.
“I didn’t write it down,” he answers.
“Okay,” I say through my clenched teeth, realizing that I am most likely going to have to shoulder this project on my own. I open my notebook to the notes I made in my own research. “Well, there were a few things that stood out to me about the pros of nepotism. It’s useful to build a legacy, it has loyalty associated with it, and there is generally a lower turnover rate.”
When I finish looking over my sheet, I look up expectantly, ready for Declan’s input, but he’s just looking at me, his expression fixed. He almost looks bored.
“And the cons?” I finally say after a few beats of silence.
“Well, in an article by Baker in the Journal of Better Business Today, he pointed out cronyism as a large battle with nepotism. This can have a multiplied effect of damage on the company as other workers don’t see the need to have loyalty or work to their fullest potential because they realize that they will never be promoted to higher ranks. It can lead to promotional incompetencies within the organization—which is pointed out by Yeoung in Business Today —if people are promoted based on relation as opposed to ability. This can fracture the company infrastructure, as well as undermine any growth within the company.”
I blink at Declan.
He tilts his head. “You look surprised.”
“I, well, when you didn’t have it written down, I just…well, I assumed that you hadn’t done the work,” I admit.
“Well, I did,” he replies flatly.
I clear my throat, embarrassed at my assumptions. “Would you be able to get me the sources so I can get them down when I write the paper?”
Declan furrows his brow. “When you write the paper?” he asks, his voice a little quiet, but the deep rumbling still there. “It’s a group paper,” he reminds me.
“Yeah, but—”
“That means we write it together.”
“I just—”
“I wouldn’t expect you to take that on alone,” he informs me, his eyes boring into mine.
I swallow as I try to stop myself from reacting to his gaze and his tone. And the fact that he is insisting on doing his part for our project. I find it all, well, hot. “Okay,” I say, unable to come up with anything else.
“But I’ll email my sources to you,” he tells me.
“Thank you,” I say, trying to sound like a strong woman and not the hormonally charged woman I am. I sit up a little taller in my seat, trying to get myself back in charge of my emotions. “I feel like there are more cons to nepotism than pros,” I remark, trying to redirect us back to our topic.
“I think there is potential for there to be more cons, but if handled in a more realistic fashion, such as putting the right people in the appropriate position, it could allow more pros.”
Declan and I go on to have a discussion regarding how this could still prove difficult, getting so caught up in our own deliberation on our topic that we don’t notice that the other students have all left until Professor Edwards comes over to us.
“I love your enthusiasm, but class is over for tonight,” he says, smiling at us.
“Oh,” I say lamely, looking at the clock and seeing that I have about five minutes to make it to the bus stop. I jump up and collect my notebook and belongings in my arms. “Have a good night,” I say to Declan as I scurry out the door, glad for the quick departure and no awkward goodbye.