Chapter 10
MILE TEN
STALKER DARCY
My heels click against the cement walkway that loops through the center of campus. The bustle of a late afternoon twines around me. Students huddle at outdoor tables outside the campus coffee shop. Conversations float in the cool Santa Ana breeze. In the distance, someone strums a guitar.
It’s a typical autumn day at Pemberly. I pull tighter on my jacket.
The crisp, late afternoon air causes my loose strands to brush against my face.
Southern California isn’t as cold as some places, but I’m a wimp anytime the temps drop below seventy.
Thank goodness I agreed to Garrett driving me home after work.
The siren song of his SUV’s butt-warmer calls to me.
Even if it’s only a short ten-minute drive from campus to my place, the heated seats are an extra delicious bonus.
“Jensen!”
I stop and tilt my head toward the direction of the velvet-smooth female English accent. The only Englishwoman I know—besides feisty historical romance female main characters—is Kayla.
“Sorry, that was rude. You may not recognize my voice yet.” She clears her throat. “It’s Kayla O’Leary. We met at Harkey’s Hideaway the other night.”
“Hi, Kayla… Yeah, I remember.” I shift foot-to-foot. “How are you?”
“Excellent. You?”
“Awesome,” I say through a tight smile.
I don’t have ill feelings toward Kayla. She was pleasant at the bar, but she was the woman Miles left me for. Even though I know we weren’t a couple, I still feel awkward around her.
“I am glad I ran into you. Miles mentioned you were supposed to be in New York this week, but that trip was interrupted by your brother being injured. I was sorry to hear that. How is he?”
A sweet, delicate aroma, like a rose garden in bloom, wafts off her.
It’s probably expensive. Like everything else about Kayla.
According to Catherine, Kayla is tall and lean with long, bronzy blonde hair and Arctic blue eyes.
She’s always polished and glossy with the perfect shade of red lipstick that gives off “don’t fuck with me” energy.
It’s unlikely she’s ever been ditched at a bar before.
“He’s on the mend. Thank you for asking.” I offer a smile.
“Wonderful. It’s terrifying when someone we love is unwell or hurt. My sister lives in London with her husband and my nieces. If something happened to her, I would be a wreck.”
“Yeah… Especially when you’re so far away from them.” I scrunch my face. “Though I wouldn’t know. I’ve never really been that far away from my family.”
I’m pathetic. The corners of my lips tick down.
At twenty-nine, I’ve never lived more than a ten-minute drive from a family member.
It may have been one of the reasons I chose Pemberly for undergrad.
Because Anker was a student here and then attended their medical school.
Whereas Kayla resides an entire ocean away from her family.
“Besides Oxford, this is the furthest I’ve been away from my family,” she says.
“Really?”
“Yeah. As much as I am enjoying my time here, it does get a little lonely to be so far away from them.” Her admission is soft.
My heart twinges with her vulnerability. I can almost picture the downward curve of her mouth. It’s hard to imagine the confident woman who commanded all the attention at the bar the other night showing this soft side.
Loneliness is something I understand. Relationships—even friendships—have been a struggle for me.
I don’t have other friends. I never have, despite how much I just wanted to belong.
So much of my life was spent with my nose pressed up against the window, hoping to be let in and scared about what might happen if I was.
“What do you miss?” I shift foot-to-foot. “I mean, what things from home do you miss doing the most?”
“Brunch.” Her sigh is laced with wistfulness. “My friends back home and I would go religiously. There’s a pub near my flat that serves a modern take on an English breakfast. It had all the traditional items but with a twist; champagne, pastries, eggs, beans, and vegan blood sausage.”
I guffaw. “Vegan blood sausage sounds atrocious.”
“Vegan anything is a dreadful waste of food in my opinion, but do not repeat that. Half the department leans vegan, so I may be flayed.”
“Would vegans flay a human?”
“Excellent point.” Head tipped back, she lets out a musical laugh.
“Your secret is safe with me… Although I should warn you that I do like almond milk,” I say with a cheeky expression.
“I shall endeavor to like you nonetheless.” A smile is audible in her jest. “I also wanted to apologize to you.”
“For what?”
“I didn’t know that Miles and you had something going on when I left with him the other night. I feel terrible. I would never interfere with someone’s relationship like that.”
“No need to apologize.” I bat at the air. “We didn’t have anything going on. Not really. At least, nothing you should feel bad about, especially if you didn’t know.”
“That does make me feel better. Though, for the record, nothing happened with Miles. When I learned the truth, I gave him quite the tongue-lashing.” She shakes her head. “Stupid boys masquerading as men.”
“I don’t disagree.” I laugh. “Who told you?”
“Miles, of course.”
“What?” I choke out. “He told you.”
“He did. He’s devastated.” She tilts her head and clicks her tongue. “Well, I suppose as devastated as a modern-day Frank Churchill-type could be.”
“He’s devastated?” My slow, deliberate speech is akin to pinching yourself awake.
The idea of Miles Calloway being devastated over me is surreal.
This is the man who devastates women, not the other way around.
Despite my misguided crush, I’m quite aware of his reputation.
He’s been linked to several members of the female faculty and staff, along with a few rumors about smitten grad students.
“I’m not a Miles apologist. He’s a bit of a cad, but one with a heart. Calloway is your classic late bloomer. He didn’t come into his good looks and charm until graduate school, resulting in his current Peter Pan fuckboy era.”.
“Miles?” I blink.
“Yes. Apparently, he had braces until he was twenty-five and spent most weekends writing Shakespeare fan fiction retellings.” She shrugs. “Though I actually think that last one makes him more interesting.”
“What does this have to do with me?” I gesture at her.
“He likes you. He really likes you, but he was caught up in his fuckboy ways. I think he thought…”
“That I’d just wait for him.” I shake my head, because I may have done just that for him.
If Garrett hadn’t shown up and used his Mr. Darcy Jedi mind tricks to get me to come home with him and tell the bag, I may still be waiting for Miles. Revulsion, not for Miles, but for me, sloshes in my belly with the thought.
“He’s been a fool, and I think he’s just now realizing that. Listen, I am not telling you what to do. Miles is a twat.”
I snort. “Yes, he is.”
“But he is a sorry twat. Whether you want to forgive him or not is up to you. I just wanted to let you know that I’m not interested in Miles. Never have been. Never will be. He’s nice. Just not my type. I only went with him because he’s the only friend I’ve made since moving here.”
Brow wrinkled, I tilt my head. “But you seemed chummy with everyone at the bar.”
“Those are colleagues, not friends. Not to mention, they’re all men.
Not to sound sexist, but I want female friends, especially those around my age.
Another reason why I was upset with Miles.
Our chat at the bar was brief, but I thought you were lovely and wanted to connect.
When I asked Miles if he had your number, he shared everything. ”
Kayla may be intimidating, but she’s also warm. Even at our introduction, though brief, I saw that.
“You call him Peter Pan fuckboy?” I smirk.
“To his face.” Pride radiates from her.
“I have a friend who calls him literary fuckboy.”
She claps her hands together. “Delicious.”
“Catherine and I are going to brunch tomorrow,” I blurt. “Do you want to join? I realize it’s short notice…”
It’s like someone else took over my mouth.
It’s not just men that I wait for to make the first move.
Even with Catherine, she was the one who initiated our friendship.
If I’m going to take risks and run a marathon, shouldn’t I chart other courses?
Not just with romantic relationships, but with friendships?
Also, it’s just brunch, so if it’s a failure, there isn’t a great loss.
Not to mention she’s a visiting professor, so there’s a built-in expiration date if I’m wrong.
“I wouldn’t want to intrude—”
I flick my wrist dismissively. “No, you’d be a perfect addition. In fact…” A crease notches my brow as if a lightbulb clicks on above me. “Are you on the interview panel for the associate professor position?”
“No. Why?”
“Catherine is interviewing for it, and I was going to do a mock interview pre-breakfast. You know, run her through her paces. Your input would be so valuable”—I swipe the windblown tendrils out of my face—“if you’re open to that.
No pressure about doing any interview tutoring.
The invite isn’t contingent. It could just be lady bonding. ”
“Both the lady bonding and the interview tutoring sound lovely. If it truly is not a bother.”
“Not at all…” I let out a nervous laugh. “It’s not a bother. It’s a pleasure.”
“Then I would absolutely love to join you two.”
“There you are, Jensen,” Garrett says, annoyance boosts his low bass.
I pivot towards his voice. “Yes… I am Jensen. Who is this?” I mock-simper.
Garrett’s timbre’s deep rumble is imprinted into my brain, allowing me to recognize him auditorily. We both know this, but the desire to mess with him is too strong. It’s my favorite part about him taking me home each day. That and his heated car seats.
Reaching me, he lets out a beleaguered breath. “Smartass.”