Chapter 19
NINETEEN
Alis
To say the last few days have been overwhelming and annoying is an understatement. Not two seconds after walking back into our apartment, Skye and Sunny were on me like white on rice.
“Oh. My. God. I CANNOT believe he actually came over!” Skye went full-on woo girl for the next few hours, turning every sentence into an exclamation followed by squeals released at unprecedented decibels.
I’d never seen her that hyper and loud when sober, but apparently a hot guy showing up at our place is stronger than any liquor.
Sunny wasn’t much better. She kept trying to weasel her way into the conversation, which was really one-sided — Skye blabbing all around me while I kept quiet and tried to ignore her.
I still can’t believe Skye talked about Dexter openly in front of her.
Not once in her entire life has Sunny seen or heard of me with a man in a romantic sense.
The men back home were either married, solid cases of failure-to-launch, friend-zoned, complete imbeciles, or tourists passing through.
No thanks. And even if I had met a single, eligible bachelor in our hometown, I doubt I would have paid attention because I was laser-focused on work and Sunny.
I still can’t believe how many conflicting emotions have run through me since we moved to Grand River.
I mean, seriously, hasn’t life messed with my carefully-laid plans enough for one lifetime?
I know if we had stayed in Moraine I’d have had a happy, calm life.
I also know I’d always wonder what I could have accomplished had I gone back to school.
I pride myself on thinking through every possible outcome before making a decision, but none of the scenarios I played out in my head come close to reality.
I guess because I hadn’t been attracted to anyone in so many years, I didn’t factor in any sort of romantic entanglement in my mental list of potential complications resulting from moving and starting afresh.
It’s not that I have never desired the love story; I just haven’t ever met someone who piqued my interest enough to distract me from my educational and career aspirations, or from raising my daughter.
Every time I refer to Dexter as a ‘distraction’ Skye reprimands me and says, “Having a partner is not a distraction. You can’t cut a steak with only a fork.
” I have no idea where she comes up with her analogies, nor do I always understand them, but I’ve decided to keep quiet and nod in agreement whenever she dishes out her ‘wisdom’ to avoid poking the bear.
More like poking a pissed-off chihuahua. Snippy, that one.
Finally, Friday has arrived, Skye is once again out of town for the weekend, and today is my last day on campus for a few days. Praise the Lord, I can finally take a deep breath and decompress after a week of conflicting emotions and constant badgering.
I’m strolling through campus, enjoying the crisp fall air and marveling at the many-colored leaves painting the trees, when Brody approaches and disrupts my moment of serenity. Why can’t I have one day when people just leave me alone? I just want to enjoy all the colors of fall in peace.
“Hey, Alis, how’s it going?” Brody readjusts his backpack straps that slipped down during his apparent jog to get to me. I try my best to wipe the look of annoyance off my face before turning toward him.
“Hey, Brody. I’m good, and you?” I manage to put a smile on my face, but I know it doesn’t reach my eyes.
He doesn’t seem to notice and starts to prattle on about how he’s doing well and how his week has gone.
I’m only half listening to him, continuing to stare up at all the orange, red, and yellow leaves hovering overhead as we continue to walk across campus toward my meeting with Dr. Matthews.
Out of nowhere I step on an untied shoelace and stumble forward, bending my knees to break the fall.
Before I hit the ground Brody wraps an arm around my waist from behind and pulls me in close to him.
“Whoa now. You okay?” he asks. His mouth is too close to my ear and his arm is still locked around my midsection.
I try to wiggle out from his hold on me and say, “Yeah, thanks. Stupid shoelace.” Once his arm slackens and I can take a step away from him, I kneel to re-tie my Converse, making sure to double knot them.
I stand back up and brush off my hands on my skirt, checking to make sure I didn’t rip a hole in my favorite tights while kneeling.
Before I can say anything else Brody asks, “So about tomorrow night. You in?”
Um, what? Clearly, I missed something. “Tomorrow night?” I ask, trying to sound like I’m having a momentary lapse in remembrance rather than the truth — that I have no freaking clue what he’s gone on about for the last few minutes.
“The hockey game. Do you want to go with me?” When did he start talking about hockey? Brody flashes a flirty smile and his eyes show just how much he wants me to say yes.
“I’m sorry,” I say, “I can’t this weekend.” I resume my walk and Brody doesn’t miss a beat, falling in step beside me.
“Why not? Got plans? We could go next weekend if you’re free.” His tone sounds hopeful, and I don’t want to upset him. I also don’t really want to hang out with him outside of seeing him on campus.
“Yeah, I’m slammed this weekend.” Not really, but Skye isn’t here to keep Sunny and I don’t need to explain my reasoning to anyone. “Maybe another time, yeah?” That should do it. Not a yes, not a no. Don’t smash his hopes, but also, hopefully, don’t lead him on.
Why am I so spineless and awkward when confronted with uncomfortable social situations?!
Brody seems placated for now. He smiles and runs his hand through his dark hair, then grips the back of his neck.
“Yeah, another time. Maybe sometime in the next few weeks.” It’s not a question; it’s a statement.
I don’t respond verbally; I just give him a small, friendly smile in acknowledgment of his words.
Once we arrive at the Languages and Literature building, I turn to say goodbye and Brody reaches out and grasps my wrist lightly. “I’m really glad I ran into you today. I’ve missed seeing you on campus this last week.”
This isn’t awkward at all. “Um, yeah. It was great seeing you, too. Hopefully, I won’t get sick again anytime soon so I won’t have to miss class and play catchup.
” Brody chuckles, hand still on my wrist, refusing to break eye contact.
“Don’t worry about the classes you missed. I’ll email you the notes.”
“Thanks, I really appreciate that.” I offer him a genuine smile because I’m incredibly thankful that I don’t have to track down the notes I missed taking. The PowerPoints in that class are useless, as our prof goes off on tangents frequently and the sidebars hold the truly important information.
“I’ll see you next week, yeah?” I ask, taking a small step away from Brody in hopes he’ll release his grasp on my wrist. “Yeah. Have a good weekend, Alis.” Before I can step away any further, Brody pulls on my wrist slightly, leans down, and grazes my cheek with his lips.
I don’t know how to react to his obviously more-than-friendly goodbye, so I just say, “Bye” and march up the building stairs as quickly as possible without looking back. Am I thirty or am I thirteen?
Shaking out of my stupor, I turn back to look at him before opening the door and say, “You’re a great friend, Brody.
Thanks for helping me adjust to life here these last few months.
I really appreciate it.” He smiles up at me and I see the disappointment in his eyes, which means I must have communicated my intentions clearly, and read his just as well.
“Anytime, Alis. See you next week.” Then he turns and walks away, and I head in to meet with Dr. Matthews.
I climb the stairs, evaluating the thoughts and feelings that coursed through me as Brody kissed my cheek.
Not that I’d ever entertain a romantic relationship with him, but my internal reaction to his lips on my cheek was stronger than non-interest. I felt annoyed, frustrated, and most curiously, I felt as if his lips on my skin was a form of betrayal.
Betrayal? To whom?! Why am I even asking myself that question? I can push aside my attraction and pull toward Dexter Belanger every chance I get, but with each suppression the feelings strengthen and the internal pressure builds.
Maybe I can appease this felt need for him with a timeline. Alis, you will not succumb to your desire for Dexter Belanger until you are no longer his grader, nor a student at Middle Peak University. That’s what, two years tops? Five if I stay here for my Ph.D.
I can’t decide whether admitting my feelings for Dexter to myself is helping or hurting my cause. On one hand, I’m no longer lying to myself. On the other, being honest with myself about how much I want him makes the temptation to cave that much stronger.
Two years of pent-up sexual tension will only serve to make the release all the more blissful when it happens.
That is, if it doesn’t erupt like a volcano before then.
What if he meets someone else before I’m ready?
How will I handle seeing him with another woman, touching another woman, or, heaven forbid, kissing another woman?
Ugh! This is why I refused to admit to myself that I want him.
Now I’ve gone and made myself vulnerable to the possibility of a broken heart and unrealized dreams. I’ve had enough heartbreak in this life; I don’t need any more.
Head on straight, Aurora Jane Gilmore. Focus on what’s important, not on messy, overwhelming, unstable feelings toward a man. A gorgeous, six-foot-tall, swoon-worthy man. Nope. Don’t go there. Focus. Sunny. School. Work. Priorities.
Lord, help my resolve.
Dexter