9. Chapter 9 #3
Beau cocks an eyebrow and gives me a moment to make sure I really want to know. I cross my arms, mirroring him, and hold his gaze.
“You asked for it,” he says. “You should also know that the systematic oppression of Highland culture is one of twelve topics I’m considering for my thesis.
It’s actually really low on my list, and if it’s that important to you, then I solemnly swear not to overlap with your…
” He pauses, one corner of his mouth turning up. “Tartan thesis.”
I put my face in my hands. Beau was right. I do feel worse.
“Christ, I’m an eejit,” I mutter into my palms.
When I look back up, Beau seems amused. “Told you it was going to make you feel worse.”
“And you were right.” I nod. “I was a right bawbag to you because I thought I was competing with you for a prize that it turns out you didn’t even want.” I shake my head. “I really am sorry.”
“Torin,” he says, and his eyes draw me in again. “You’re forgiven.” He glances at my bowl. “Now eat your yogurt while I grab my laptop.”
I obey, though my attention drifts when he strides out of the kitchen, his calves flexing with every step.
He comes back with his computer and slides onto the stool next to me, his knee brushing mine, sending a jolt of warmth through my body.
“What’s that for?” I ask, recovering quickly.
“For our action plan,” he says as he logs in and begins to navigate around. His scent hits me again, and I try not to swoon. Even sweaty, he smells good.
And now I feel weird for sniffing my colleague. Twice.
Beau opens a folder labeled Templates and clicks on one called Action Plan.
“You have an action plan template?” I ask. What a geek.
“Of course,” he says. “Don’t you?” He gives me a cheeky wink and turns back to the document, quickly filling in the sections labeled Document Purpose and Key Players. When he gets to the Goals section, he swivels slightly on the stool. “What do you think?”
After some discussion, we settle on three: forge a better working relationship, make up for the disturbance we caused in class, and turn the situation into a learning experience.
“Solid start,” Beau says, and I nod.
He claps once and rubs his hands together like he’s gearing up for something exciting. “Now for the action part of the plan. I think I know what I can teach you.” He types for a moment and then tilts the screen toward me.
I paraphrase incredulously. “You’re going to teach me to be more confident so I can better navigate academic politics?”
“Yup,” he says with satisfaction, “and you’re going to teach me about Scottish culture and how history has made the country what it is today.”
“Are you a mind reader or something? How did you know that’s what I had planned?”
“I didn’t know,” he laughs, “but now you know I’m not competing with you, I was hoping you’d be willing to help me out.” His voice trails up ever so slightly, almost making it into a question.
“Aye, now you’re no longer at the top of my list of enemies, I’m happy to get you up to speed on the best country in the world.” I grab my bag off the floor and dig around inside. “And in that vein, I wanted to give you something.”
I pull out the book I bought on the way here and hand it to him. Our fingers brush as he takes it from me, and I manage not to flinch away. I wonder if he’s always this warm.
He reads the cover aloud. “Scotland: The Story of a Nation by Magnus Magnusson.”
“Have you read it?” He shakes his head, so I explain.
“Magnus was a legendary scholar of Scottish history, despite being born in Iceland and never taking British citizenship. He dedicated his entire life to the preservation of our past and culture and was eventually knighted. I thought it might be nice to read another outsider’s perspective, one who made his mark on our country and its history. ”
He smiles and opens the book.
“This particular work starts with a geographic history of Scotland,” I say, leaning in and pointing to the table of contents, “including when it was attached to what is now North Carolina in the States, before moving into human history, ending with the creation of a new Scottish Parliament in 1999.”
“Wow,” he says as he flips through the book, “sounds comprehensive.”
“It is.” I nod. “He was a consummate storyteller and will bring Scottish history and the modern Scot to life in new ways for you.”
My eyes move to his again as he says, “Thank you, Torin. I look forward to reading it.” God, I love hearing my name in his accent.
“You’re welcome,” I say as he adds the book to our action plan.
“I also want to check out more historical sites,” he says. “I haven’t even been to the castle.”
“I’m happy to show you around Edinburgh whenever you want,” I say, then have an idea. “Maybe we achieve two goals at once by inviting our classmates to join us for an excursion.”
“Great idea,” he says and types it in.
I point to the blank section above. “And how exactly do you plan to make me more confident?”
He gives me a wicked grin, claps a big hand on my shoulder, and announces, “Torin, my friend, I’m taking you to the gym.”