Chapter 11
ELEVEN
Alexia
"—and she would not let me leave the table.
Every time I stood up she'd top up my glass and go, 'but here's the thing—' and start an entirely new sentence," Craig says as he acts out a woman refilling a wine glass, over and over, an invisible bottle that never runs out.
"I almost missed my own keynote! Deb knows!
" He points to Deb, who grins, nodding in affirmation.
"I was meant to be preparing for my speech.
Instead I was pinned in a booth for ninety minutes listening to a convoluted theory about the connection between Foucault and masochistic airport design. "
"You could've left," Gerald says.
Craig drops his jaw and then says, "And miss out on all that free wine? Look, Gerald, I'm not the scholar you are, but I'm not so dumb you'll see me saying no to a free liquid lunch."
Half the staff room loses it, including me.
Over by the window, not laughing, Rhys sits with a laptop open, an untouched coffee beside him. Whatever he's focusing on must be fascinating. Probably Porn For Uptight Assholes, I think traitorously. Then feel slightly guilty. But only slightly.
Truth is, I don't know what I'm supposed to feel about him. After he said Leon would kill him for what he’s thinking, feeling about me, I left without another word.
It's been churning in my stomach ever since.
I took refuge in the staff room, chatting to Craig and the other RAs, but then he showed up.
And I haven't been able to focus on anything else since.
Not that he's paid me the slightest ounce of attention.
What he's even doing here, I have no idea, it's not a secret that Rhys prefers the four walls of his office to any actual human interaction.
I position myself so he's at my back, so I'm not tempted to sneak glances at my brother's best friend.
That way only leads to heartbreak and chaos. Been there. Suffered that.
Instead I focus on Craig, who's finishing up another anecdote that has everyone chuckling. Half the group peels off to grab some snacks for the group meeting we have in a few minutes.
"So, halfway through the first week. Rating out of ten?" Craig asks with a friendly smile.
"Hm, well, as my brother Leon would say, it gets a solid four flushes."
He almost spits out his water, his eyes wide. "I'm going to need you to repeat that."
"You'd have to understand my brother," I say. "But, layman's translation: it's been solid, pretty good. Would recommend and return. Above average cleanliness,” I tack onto the end.
I’m not surprised when Craig snorts before asking, “No troubles with anyone?"
My spine goes rigid. Do not turn around, I tell my head. "Um, nope. Why? Did you expect me to?"
"Nah, everyone's pretty cool here. Pretty helpful actually. I'm going to miss this place when I leave."
"You're done at the end of the year, yeah?"
He nods. "Yup, this contract's up in a few months and I still don't know what's next. I have some ideas, but nothing set in stone yet. My five-year plan is shaking in its colour-coordinated boots."
I sigh. "Yeah, I hear ya. I just heard today that what I thought was a position I should've been a shoo-in for hit a bit of a snag."
"Well, any time you need to vent, let me know. I could show you around Adelaide properly," he says with a warm smile. "Actual Adelaide, not the uni induction-pack version."
"I'm from here, remember?" I remind him.
"Sure. But you left when you were, what, eighteen? You haven't actually lived here since you were a teenager. That's not the same city. Things have changed."
Yeah." I glance over at Rhys before I can stop myself. He still isn't looking up. "I guess they have."
"So. Coffee? Actual coffee, not this crime against beans," he says, holding up his staff room coffee cup. "Friday? Won't have to worry about it being a school night."
Friday night. So, this invitation isn't just a friendly, co-worker thing. Am I really ready for that?
"No pressure," Craig says, sensing my hesitation. "I promise not to talk about Foucault."
"You say that like you could stop yourself," I say with a wink.
He leans in so close I can smell the carrot cake muffin on his breath, and says, “I contain multitudes, Riley.”
A laptop slams closed. So loud that both Craig and I, and several other people all turn in Rhys's direction, to see him tucking the laptop under his arm.
He strolls past us toward the open door leading to the adjoining meeting room, calling out, "Department meeting in five minutes.
Last person cleans out the fridge on Friday.
Rumour has it Ben had sardines on Monday. "
There's a rush of bodies past Rhys into the other room.
"So, Friday?" Craig says. "Should I take your lack of an answer as a yes?"
I cock an eyebrow. "Is that how you approach your research?"
He laughs. "Touché."
"Coming, Ms Riley?" Rhys says, from his position at the door, eyes locked on Craig and me. "We wouldn't want you to be late for your first department staff meeting."
I refrain from rolling my eyes as I make my way over to the room. "No? And why not? Would you really punish me?"
“You’d be surprised all the way in which I could punish you.
Does that scare you?” he says so quietly only I can hear him as he follows close behind me.
And then his chest brushes against my back for a split second as he leans in against my ear and says, “Or is it that you’re afraid that you might like it too much? ”
My blood heats.
Fuck.
Half an hour later, we're deep into the department staff meeting, a bunch of announcements, new staffing protocols, and something else so boring none of us could repeat it back five minutes later.
Rhys had been sitting to the side for the entire meeting, not engaging, mostly taking notes.
But as the last speaker sits back down, Rhys walks to the front and talks for a few minutes about employment opportunities that have come across his desk, and some industry job fairs happening around the country in the coming months.
For some reason I'm hanging off every word.
It's strange to see him in this environment, I’ve seen him as a lanky teen, a serious over-achiever, my brother's friend, but here, he's in his element. He commands the room without raising his voice, without any excessive body movements at all, and yet no one talks over him.
“So if anyone's got questions about their development plans, or wants to talk through where they're heading, my door's always open," he says, easy, relaxed.
"Genuinely. I'd rather you came and asked than sit on it for a whole review cycle.
It's my job and my honour to help you if I can.
And if I can't, I will find someone who can. "
Someone near the front says something I don't catch, and Rhys volleys something back, dry, that gets a laugh.
I did not know Rhys did this, was good at this, warm and commanding, calling attention to himself in the most natural of ways. Even at home he speaks like every syllable costs him money.
"So, Mr Filing Cabinet's warmed up a bit today," Craig jokes into my ear. "Must be that nice shirt he's wearing today, giving him special powers."
"Actually, I think he's probably pretty good without needing powers,” I say. And then bite down hard on my tongue. I had not meant to say that out loud. Hell, I hadn't even meant to think it.
Craig raises his eyebrows but I'm saved by a woman with a lanyard and clipboard, clapping twice like she's rounding up children rather than academics.
"Right! While we've got everyone together, quick calendar business.
" She holds up a printed sheet like a red flag.
"Third quarter symposium, the October function, the staff outing, all happening in the next few months, and faculty wants it done properly this year.
So we're dividing you into groups. Which some of you already do informally"—a look at Craig, who points at himself, like who me?
—"so let's make it official. Get into your groups and I'll come around. "
The room dissolves into the inevitable chaos of adults sorting themselves into groups.
A group forms around Craig instantly, a couple of postgrads, a research assistant, someone from the library, practically making a schwooomp noise as they gravitate to him like magnets.
My five-second hesitation leaves me standing alone in a room of multi-people units.
Seriously? This shit again? I thought I'd left this trauma behind in primary school.
"Alexia," Craig says, his arm waving high above the fray. "Come join us, we've got room."
"Actually," the lanyard woman says, looking over the rim of her glasses. "Craig, your group's already over the limit, we're trying to spread it a bit more evenly—"
"I'll drop out, then," he immediately says, pulling away from the group, despite the groans from the Craigites. “I’ll go with Alexia instead. Problem solved."
But before he can come over, a deep voice speaks up above the noise."I'll pair up with Alexia.”
The room empties of sound, all heads turning toward the voice. Rhys pushes off the table he was leaning against and walks to join me in the middle of the room.
"That's—" I start, "—no. You don't have to do that," I say to him.
He takes up the spot next to me, arms folded. "Didn't say I have to."
I turn to him, closing a bubble in around us. I look up to see his eyes on mine. "But you hate this. I know you do. You used to talk about hating committees, small talk, group activities—"
"Still do."
I shake my head, aware Craig is watching us from his circle. "Then why—"
"Well, Rhys," the lanyard woman cuts in, hopeful, "I didn't realise you were even participating. I thought you said—"
"I'm pairing up with Alexia." He doesn't look at her. He's still looking at me. "Just tell us what we're doing."
"Wait," I say to her. "I can find another group, I'm sure Rhys is too busy to join in." I lower my voice again and say to him, "You don't have to rescue me. That's not your job."
"That's not what I'm doing, Alexi," he says. "Now be quiet, we're about to miss picking our assignment. Wouldn't want to get stuck having to run a workshop on successful relationships building or something. Not unless we want to be to blame for the entire department blowing up."
My hand comes up to cover my mouth before the guffaw slips out.
The lanyard woman claps once, delighted, already moving on.
"Perfect! Honestly, perfect, because we still need someone to take charge of the staff outing in October!
I think Rhys and Alexia will be perfect for that.
And this year's theme is—" she runs her fingers down the clipboard "—Ah!
Excellent. It's effective communication. "
Our eyes instantly meet in a look of pure horror.
Well, shit.