6. Ned #2
“I would have done my entire four years of college there, but yes, it was my study abroad,” she says. “Or three years, I suppose. Did you go there?”
“Three,” Abbot says. “Yes.”
“You only went to college for three years?” Pat asks. “Maybe I’d have gone, if I’d known it could be that quick.”
“It’s a European thing,” Ned says. That much he knows, at least, that Abbot’s undergrad was only three years, even if the rest of Abbot’s experience at college is one of those topics he sits on, sharing out slivers of information so occasionally Ned could count them on one hand.
He wants more, of course, though he’s learned that untangling Abbot is mostly picking around the edges of what he doesn’t say.
He’s a giant puzzle Ned’s been working on for over a year now.
A very handsome, very attractive, very private, really very frustrating puzzle.
Ned squeezes him and holds him there, close against his side.
“I had the best time,” Claire says. “Zürich is so beautiful, and I loved my classes. And the university has this enormous ball.”
“Like a ball, ball?” Pat asks.
Crushing it, Ned mouths at him and he scowls back.
“Cinderella. I’m not even joking,” she says. “There’s a theme each year, and it’s just so well done, absolutely magical.”
“You got to go to an actual ball every year in college?” Pat asks Abbot.
“Yes. It’s annual.”
Ned taps his forefinger against Abbot’s ribs. That, right there, that type of dodge is what Abbot is a master of, and Ned’s learned to spot it a mile away. “Abbot.”
“Yes?”
“Answer Pat’s question.”
“I was able to go every year, yes,” Abbot says.
“Like an actual ball?” Pat asks.
“Keep saying that, and Baxter’s gonna want you to throw one for him,” Ned says. “Hon, you didn’t go, did you?”
“Oh, you gotta go to a ball if there’s going to be a ball,” Pat says.
“You totally didn’t,” Ned says.
“You didn’t go?” Claire asks.
“I’d even go to a ball,” Pat says.
Claire puts her hand on Pat’s arm. Bingo, Ned thinks. “It was so amazing,” she says.
“I was busy,” Abbot says.
“Hitting the books?” Pat asks. “Or who was he?”
Abbot might be good at avoiding subjects, but he’s a shitty liar, and the silence he tries to cover with a quick sip of his wine says everything. Ned laughs, squeezing his waist.
“Spill,” Pat says.
“I’ve never heard about this,” Ned says. “We need details.”
“It was nothing,” Abbot says quickly.
“It was clearly someone,” Pat says. “What, did you leave your glass slipper behind and skip out on the big ball happening at your own university to go see this guy? I’m guessing yes, so tell us everything about Prince Charming.”
“Is there some devastatingly handsome man out there in Switzerland, pining away for you?” Ned asks.
“Can we look him up?” Pat asks. “What’s his name?”
“Only if you also share your poor choices from that age,” Abbot says.
“Ned will, given half a chance,” Pat says.
Ned slips his hand up to Abbot’s neck, playing with the collar of his shirt. “I need less than that. Julie?”
“Aw, c’mon,” Pat says.
“Meghan?” Ned asks.
Pat tips his beer toward him. “What about you and that Michael?”
“Ouch,” Ned says. “Claire, your turn.”
“Oh, please, you all have nothing on me,” she says. “I’m currently sleeping on the couch of my sister and her husband-to-be, because I threw everything into my car and drove to Boston from Philadelphia to get out of my last relationship.”
“Cheers.” Ned tips his bottle against hers. “Been there.”
“Don’t be too impressed,” Claire says. “That was too long ago for not having found a spot to live yet. The most I can boast is that the couch is in my sister’s office, not her living room.”
“I don’t judge. I’m glad this guy had an entire bedroom I could take over when I did the same thing,” Ned says.
“You lived up here?” Claire asks.
“I was getting my doctorate at Callahan,” Ned says.
“Oh, that’s right. You said that. So is that how you two met?” She points her beer from Ned to Abbot and back again.
“Now that’s a story,” Pat says.
“It was actually very normal and straightforward,” Ned says.
“Absolutely no shenanigans,” Pat says solemnly.
“Boring, even,” Ned says.
“Ned was Abbot’s student,” Pat just has to go and say.
Ned smacks his arm. “C’mon.”
“You were,” Pat says, rubbing the spot.
At least Claire’s not in academia, and isn’t one of Ned’s new colleagues at Adams. All the getting-to-know-you of this first year and making chit-chat with them had eventually led to the topic of Abbot, and to the fact that he’s a Callahan professor.
Anyone can put two and two together and look at Ned’s graduation date and Abbot’s career and come to the very obvious conclusion that Ned dated a professor while he was a PhD candidate.
He’s younger than me, Ned always feels half ready to defend himself with, and it was my last semester, and I just had to finish my dissertation, and I took his course ages before we got together, and It was a joke, actually, at first, and all of it was a huge mistake.
A wonderful mistake. The best bit of pretend of his entire life. It wasn’t like he intentionally slept with a professor in his department. And then kept sleeping with him. Repeatedly, to his delight.
“Baxter and I absolutely called these two getting together,” Pat says and thumps Baxter’s side. “My man, you need a bath.”
“Yeah, you okay, buddy?” Claire kneels in front of him. “Where’s your cut? Oh, is that it right there? You poor thing.”
“Ned, wash your dog. Baxter, you’ve lost your shine,” Pat says.
“He’s fine. He’s clean. It’s just his winter coat,” Ned says. “And yes, that’s it. He’s okay, though, right? It’s mostly just a bump.”
“No, he’s definitely not as glossy as he usually is,” Pat says.
“Big ol’ belly you got here, Mr. Baxter,” Claire says, running her hands over him. “His face is fine. That’ll heal. But is his stomach always like this?”
“Look, we’re all just coming off the holidays,” Ned says.
Claire lifts Baxter’s lip to check his mouth, then looks in his ear. “How old is he?”
“Eight.”
“Hmm.”
“There’s nothing wrong with him,” Ned says. She knows this was just a pretense, right? She has to, with that flimsy-ass reason to bring her up here. She touched Pat’s arm. She’s probably just waiting for him and Abbot to finally leave.
“Anything show up on his annual bloodwork?” Claire starts feeling his belly again.
“Look, he’s great. We went running this morning, and then he crushed his breakfast and his water and took a hell of a nap.”
“You do get his blood checked every year, right? It’s a good idea, especially as they age.”
“He’s not old.”
“Eight isn’t young. I’d be happy to run some labs for him, if you want to bring him in.”
“You should take him in,” Pat says quickly. “Didn’t you just say you haven’t gotten a regular vet down in Boston yet?” Go with it, Pat’s face says, since they both know Ned said nothing of the sort.
Baxter is up to date on shots, healthy as can be, and Ned really doesn’t want to drag him to an appointment he doesn’t need just so Pat can have a weak excuse of a connection to Claire.
Though once, Ned had stood in this same room, searching for any reason at all to talk to Abbot.
“You know what? You’re right,” Ned says, and when Claire looks at Baxter’s teeth again, he mouths You really owe me to Pat. “I’d love to take you up on that.”
“Anytime.” Claire is apparently done with her impromptu exam, because she scratches Baxter behind the ears, and then settles on the couch.
On the cushion, not the arm.
Ned’s work here is over. She’s not leaving anytime soon, and whatever she and Pat get up to tonight, Ned’s done what he can. Time to make for the door and get his own evening underway. Finally. “Speaking of Bax, I think it’s dinnertime, bud,” Ned says.
“We should be going,” Abbot agrees.
Ned laces their fingers together. “Pat, catch you later.”
“You coming by in the morning?” Pat asks.
“I have to be back early,” Ned says. “Meeting first thing tomorrow. You coming down to Boston this weekend?”
Pat narrows his eyes. “What’s on the baking schedule?”
“Turnip cookies,” Ned says.
“That’s not a real thing.”
“You never know with the Swiss,” Ned says.
He is a really, really good friend, he decides.
Claire said the party was moving down there, didn’t she?
“Grab a ride with Abbot on Friday.” Pat has to work, Ned is sure.
But Pat is also really, really gone on Claire, because he nods so eagerly he nearly spills the beer in his bottle.
Ned will give him shit about his desperation, but later. Right now he doesn’t feel all that different, tugging Abbot toward the door and hurrying Baxter along too, as happy to leave Pat to his privacy as he is to finally—finally—get some of his own.