Chapter 6
It’s strange to be back on campus. When she was here last, she was on top of the world, absolutely reeling from the high of accomplishing the thing she set out to do.
And what’s hilarious about it is that the only intention she had for the weekend was to celebrate that achievement and then prep for this interview. Instead, she’s fake engaged to a guy who is living with her, and lying to all of her friends and family.
Aside from a few shifts at the university library through the end of the semester, her responsibilities are basically down to zero.
She supposes she could start on the process of getting her thesis published.
It’s pretty solid in its current form, but there’s a major difference between a dissertation, which at the end of the day isn’t much more than a culminating academic exercise, and something consumable on the open market.
She’ll probably need some time actually working in her field, to accumulate some case studies and data to prove her theories have real-world applications and can be as effective as she’s theorized, and the first step is nailing this interview today, but afterward? No harm in getting a head start.
Ugh. Leave it to her to give herself homework before anyone else thinks to assign it.
“Bianca?” a voice calls out from the far end of the hall.
Her feet had naturally taken her to the Information Science department, the same space she sat and waited while her panel deliberated her dissertation. God, that feels like years ago, somehow.
Miranda sticks her head out of her office door and beckons her forward.
“What are you doing here?” Bianca asks, but one look at Miranda’s facial expression tells her everything she needs to know.
She never took down that post and even though her advisor isn’t exactly the savviest of social media users, she does follow her.
And now her eyes are flashing down to Bianca’s hand and she sees the ring.
Shit.
Miranda opens her mouth to say something, probably to ask her what the hell is going on, but Bianca cuts off whatever the older woman was going to say.
The office, normally bustling with activity during the week, is completely dead.
Even though they’re probably alone, she’s not the only super neurotic, borderline obsessive, perpetually early doctoral student on campus.
It’s possible someone is within earshot.
Crossing the room as fast as she can, Bianca jogs the last few feet, flying into the office and closing the door behind her.
“Since you’re not my student anymore, I feel compelled to say something about that.”
“ Miranda ,” she pleads, turning back to her advisor. “ He’s still your student.”
She brushes off the concern with a wave of her hand. “I’m not his advisor and the two of you have been circling each other for years and now you’re engaged ?”
“That’s not . . . We haven’t . . . General proximity doesn’t mean we’ve been circling each other – besides, it’s not real,” she says, throwing herself immediately on the sword.
“What?” Miranda asks. Bianca’s never seen Miranda look like this. Her mentor is the most unflappable person she’s ever met, always cool in a crisis, always the voice of reason. But right now, her eyes are wide, her mouth is open in shock and she hasn’t blinked for a full ten seconds.
“The engagement. It’s not real. We’re faking it.”
Another ten seconds tick by in silence before her advisor practically shrieks, “Are you insane?”
“Miranda,” she says, warning in her voice, glancing back over her shoulder at the closed door.
“Are you insane ?” Miranda asks again, quieter this time, despite the privacy.
Bianca nods, running a hand through her hair, the ring getting caught in one of her curls. “Possibly. I don’t know. Yeah, maybe I am.” She yanks at it, but her finger stays stuck. “Ow. Fuck.”
Miranda reaches up to carefully pull her hair free. “You’re faking an engagement with Xavier Byrne?”
“It started as a prank, you know, because no one showed up at my party. He walked me home; we were drunk and . . .”
“Did you sleep with him?”
“What? No! We decided to get fake engaged and teach everyone a lesson, and then it just sort of spiraled from there and now my parents are here and they think we’re getting married and I don’t even know what to do.
He agreed to keep it up over the summer in exchange for my second bedroom, but . . .”
“Wait, you’re living together?”
“ In separate bedrooms ,” she emphasizes, as if that makes it better. “He needs a place to stay before he goes to Greece and . . .”
“Bianca, you do realize this is . . . this is . . . I don’t even have a word for what this is.”
“I know, but I don’t see any way to get out of it.”
Other than just coming clean to her friends and family now, but that doesn’t feel like an option. Not yet. She’s still angry. She’s pushing it down and it’s a low simmering rage, but it could boil over at any time, just like it did at the party. She needs to see this through.
“Do you want to get out of it?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. Both. Neither.”
“Well, that’s your question then. Figure that out and go from there.”
“How do I even begin to figure out something like this?”
“Your research skills are second to none, I have full confidence you’ll be able to come up with a solution here.”
“I can’t research an answer to this one. I don’t think there are any peer-reviewed articles out there about pretending to be engaged to punish your friends and family for treating my doctorate like it’s a Perfect Attendance certificate.”
“You know they’re proud of you, right?”
“Yes, I know that, but it’d be nice to hear it.
When we were over there the other night, no one even said anything, no apologies for not making it to my party, not even polite questions about my defense or my interview today.
They just wanted to see the ring and make bad jokes about how much sex we’re having and how much my type he is. ”
“It is a beautiful ring, and as to him being your type . . .”
“Don’t start. That is not part of this equation.”
“Ignoring data just because it doesn’t support your thesis is shoddy research, Dr Dimitriou.”
“You’re not my advisor anymore, Dr Wilkins.”
“Please, I will always be your advisor.”
Damn it, she’s right. She’s always right, which is definitely why Bianca told her in the first place.
“Well, then advise me. What do you think I should do?”
“Does it really matter what I think?”
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want your opinion.”
“I think you should marry that young man immediately since he worships the ground you walk on and has for years and I honestly do not know what it will take for you to see it.”
“That’s . . . not true. We’re friends, and anyway, I don’t think I’m his type.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Xavier doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy to not say something if he’s interested.”
“Maybe he thinks you’re not interested.”
“Who says I am?”
Miranda’s withering glare would have made her fold a few short years ago, but she’s older and wiser now, supposedly.
“He is physically my type, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“Fine, yes, it’s like someone merged Indiana Jones and Rick O’Connell into real life human form and then made him smarter than me, which is simultaneously hot as hell and extremely annoying. Is that what you want to hear?”
“First, he’s not smarter than you.”
“That’s what he says too, but he definitely is.”
Miranda gives her a completely exasperated look, like her point is proven by that alone and yeah, okay, maybe it is, but not enough for it to matter. “And second,” she continues, “I don’t think I’m the one that needs to hear it.”
“Who does?” Bianca asks, even though she knows the answer.
“Xavier.”
“I will absolutely not be telling him that.”
“So you do have feelings for him,” Miranda says, obviously not missing the most pertinent piece of information she just revealed.
“I don’t, but I . . . could . . . I guess . . . if I let myself, which I haven’t, because he’s leaving. The last time I even attempted long distance was a dismal failure. What would even be the point?”
“That boy you left in New York? Bianca, please. Xavier’s not here to defend himself against this comparison to a finance bro who didn’t listen to you when you told him NFTs were a scam.”
“You’re hilarious .”
“Have you thought that you should try because it might make you happy?”
“I am happy.”
“Are you?”
“Yes, and honestly, you’re just as bad as the rest of them, treating me like it’s not possible for me to be happy on my own. I love my life. This is what I’ve dreamed about since I was a little girl and everyone acting like that doesn’t matter really fucking sucks.”
“Oh, sweetie, no, that’s not what I mean.”
“Well, it’s what it sounds like. You, my parents, my sister, all my friends. My life isn’t missing anything because I’m single.”
And even with the feelings that have been creeping up on her the last few days, saying that feels as true as it ever has.
She’s never really needed anyone to feel content, never even especially wanted someone to be with, not at the cost of everything else she wants, and it completely sucks that no one seems to get that.
Being in love, having someone love her would be great, but she doesn’t need that to be happy.
“I want you to listen to me, Bianca. You are entirely correct and don’t let any of the rest of us bully you.”
And just that little bit of understanding from her mentor is enough for something inside of her to break just a little bit.
“If he wasn’t leaving, though . . .”
Because despite everything, if he wasn’t leaving, she knows they’d be having a very different conversation right now.
“But he is and it’s okay to protect yourself from that. It’s okay.”
Bianca had imagined that if she was sitting in this office today crying her eyes out, it would be because she fucked up her interview and there were months of uncertainty and unemployment looming ahead of her with no end in sight.