6. Blake
6
BLAKE
I close my office door and take three deep breaths to calm myself before I open my eyes, centering myself. Time to focus.
While I know I need to lean into the social aspects of teaching at a university, networking with colleagues and all that, I really, really need to get this syllabus done. I don’t have time for gelato dates and gossip, even if it’s with the woman I’ve been unable to get out of my mind.
Actually, especially if it’s with the woman I’ve been unable to get out of my mind.
On the plus side, it could have been way more awkward. Kat— Kathleen —didn’t bring up the bar, or the fake girlfriend thing, or the night we shared. It was a cordial conversation between colleagues. Which is good, because that’s all I’m looking for right now. Colleagues. Friends. The occasional one-night stand, which will never go beyond one night.
As I told Kat, this is my first real job. Playing poker professionally between college and grad school doesn’t really count, even if I made enough to pay tuition the first few years.
At thirty-seven, most people my age are firmly established in their careers and ready to settle down. I’m behind the ball here. And not just because of my time between college and grad school; I started college late, so my entire twenties and thirties have felt like I’m catching up with everyone my age.
Once I’m established as a professor, settled into my niche, maybe I’ll look for a relationship or someone to settle down with.
Maybe.
Because getting into a relationship only leads to complications and messy emotional entanglements. Just look at my buddies. They may be in love, but their relationships have upended their lives. And I’ve seen relationships end up with far worse consequences, too.
Better to focus on what I can control.
A knock at the door startles me.
I step forward, out of the way, and pull it open to find Jeremy .
“How do you know Kathleen?” he asks, without any preamble as he steps into my office.
Doesn’t this guy have his own work to do? I mean, I don’t mind him visiting, and I could use a friend here. It just seems like he’s spent more time in my office than his own today. It makes me curious if the workload gets easier as you get more established. I’m sure he doesn’t have to create his syllabus from scratch, or plan out his courses, since he’s taught them for years.
“She’s a friend of a friend.” The lie comes easily, thanks to years of bluffing at poker games.
And it’s not entirely a lie. She’s an acquaintance, which is the same thing as a friend of a friend in my book. She just happens to be an acquaintance with whom I had the best night of sex in my life.
“You interested?”
I give him a long look. “In?”
He looks into the hall behind him, then he closes the door and steps closer to me. “Dating her. Hooking up. Whatever the kids are calling it these days.”
I sit down at my stolen desk chair and lace my fingers together. “No. I’m interested in my career. I don’t have time for a relationship.”
He looks disappointed. “She’s hot. Intimidating as fuck, but hot. If I break up with my boyfriend, maybe I’ll work up the courage to ask her out.”
“I have work to do.”
He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Noted. No gossip until work is done.”
He offers a mock salute as he exits my office.
I sense Jeremy and I will be good friends. Mostly because he doesn’t seem to be offended at the blunt way I just kicked him out of my office.
In general, my friends self-select. I’m a blunt bastard, and I don’t pull my punches. It takes a special kind of person to put up with that, usually someone who doesn’t take themselves or me too seriously. I’m glad Jeremy seems to be that type.
I pull my laptop out of my messenger bag and set it on the desk. Time to get this syllabus done.
I make it through the first paragraph, outlining the days of the week and times the class will meet—information the students already have before they even set foot in my classroom, but a standard thing to include—before there’s another knock at the door, interrupting my concentration.
I try not to let my irritation show. At this rate, I’m not going to get anything done.
I look up, my jaw tightening when I see Randi. She’s undone another button of her shirt so it opens practically at the same level as her breasts. One more button and her tits will be spilling out.
“Hi there,” she purrs. “Just seeing if you need anything. Coffee, maybe?”
What I need is silence. “I’m all set.”
“Just let me know!” She gives me a flirty wave as she bats her eyelashes, disappearing down the hall.
I look down at my watch. The leather of the band is cracked, but I can’t bring myself to replace it. It’s one of the few things I have from my dad. It still works perfectly, though, and the time displayed tells me the afternoon is getting away from me with all of these interruptions.
Sighing, I scrub a hand down my face as I look at the pile of papers on my desk. I’ve been here almost five hours today. And all I’ve gotten done is reiterating the schedule for this class.
A headache starts to form at my temples. Maybe coffee would help, but the idea of voluntarily facing Randi negates any benefit the caffeine may offer.
I rummage in my bag for the Advil and pop two into my mouth, swallowing them dry. I stare at my computer screen and wait for the effect to kick in.
Thirty minutes later, my headache has waned, but my focus is still lagging. I’ve managed to get the schedule for the exams into the syllabus, so that’s something, but there’s a lot left to do.
I stand up and stretch. At this point, the need for coffee supersedes my need to avoid the department secretary. Plus, who hides from a coworker? I’ll just be my usual blunt self and tell her the truth.
I make my way down the hall, University of Pennsylvania mug in hand. It feels like cheating since I’m working at Ardmore now, but this is the mug that got me through a lot of long nights in grad school. Maybe I should pick up an Ardmore mug to use while I’m here and put the mug from my alma mater on a shelf. I make a mental note to drop by the campus bookstore when I have a minute to check out their selection.
I brace myself as I walk past Randi’s office and into the break room that holds the coffee maker, and stare in dismay at the empty pot.
Who takes the last cup of coffee and doesn’t make more? Not cool, whoever did that.
I pull open drawers and cabinets to find what I need and get to work. Filter, coffee grounds, water. I dump the old grounds and refill the machine. As it starts to brew, I lean against the counter and breathe in the heavenly scent of coffee.
“Oh, I would have done that for you!”
And there she is.
Randi teeters into the break room on her too-high heels. It’s interesting that Kat wears heels that are practically as high as the ones Randi has on, yet on Kat, they look classy. Sophisticated.
On Randi, they don’t quite hit that mark. It’s a cross between a hooker and a toddler playing with their parent’s high heels, tottering around unsteadily.
“No problem. I don’t mind making coffee.” I shrug, hoping she’ll take the hint and disappear.
She gives me a wink. “Maybe someday you’ll be making coffee for me.”
I furrow my brows. “I’m making coffee now. Do you want some?”
She crosses the room and sets a hand on my chest, her blood-red nails practically digging into me, and speaks into my ear. “I meant you’d bring me coffee in bed.”
Abort mission. We need to shut this down.
I clear my throat. “Randi, I’m flattered, but I’m not interested.”
She smiles coyly. “Oh, I’ll change your mind eventually. ”
This woman has balls. I’ll give her that.
“I’m in a relationship. I’m not looking for anything else.” Maybe that will work.
She still doesn’t look fazed. “With who?”
I resist the urge to correct her grammar, needing this conversation to end. “Professor Milas.”
Shit . That popped out because she’s in my head.
But Randi takes a step back, nodding slightly. “Oh. Sorry.”
As she flees the room, I wonder if this may not be such a bad thing. Maybe I can keep up the ruse, and Randi will leave me alone.
The coffee pot gurgles as it spits out the hot beverage. I fill my mug and take a sip, thinking. This could work.
“You did what ?” Jeremy asks.
His expression suggests that this is the dumbest idea I’ve ever had. Or perhaps the dumbest idea anyone’s ever had, since he hasn’t known me very long.
“Close the door.”
He steps into my office for the third—fourth? I’m losing track—time today and closes the door behind him. “Start over. You told Randi you were dating someone?”
I shrug, closing my laptop. I’ve managed to finish the syllabus for Game Theory, at least. It just needs a quick proofread before I mail it out to the class.
“I told her I was dating someone. And therefore off-limits.”
“And she just took your word for it? Man, I’m impressed. She didn’t buy that excuse when I tried to use it.” He flops into one of the chairs in front of the desk.
I cringe. “Well, not exactly. She asked who it was.”
“And?”
I pull at the back of my neck. “Well, I had lunch with Kathleen Milas. Remember? And…”
Jeremy sits up straight. “Oh, no. No, you didn’t.”
“I told her I was dating Professor Milas.” In the relative safety of my office, this move now seems colossally stupid.
The campus rumor mill is a real thing. The last thing I want to do is put Kat in an awkward position.
“Uh, I hate to break this to you, but you fucked up. Royally. It was nice knowing you, kid.” He slaps the top of my desk for emphasis.
“I’ll figure something out.”
He shakes his head. “No, man. Seriously. You don’t get it, do you? You’re new here, but you’re a man. You’re going to get taken seriously no matter what. She doesn’t get that luxury. You think her looks are an asset? They’re a liability in a career like this. And if you don’t pull it off just right, it’ll get spun into something damaging.”
It feels like I just got splashed in the face with cold water as I realize what he’s saying. This could impact her— will impact her—more than it will me. And I didn’t even give her a say in my stupid lie.
I stand up and pace in the small area between my desk and the window. “Fuck. Fuck . How do I fix this? It seemed like such an easy solution. I just wanted Randi off my back.”
Jeremy looks thoughtful as he scratches his chin. “Well, it seems like you have two choices.”
“And they are?” My voice comes out higher than I intend, the panic taking over.
I’ve been at my first real job for less than one day, and I’ve potentially ruined someone’s career. Life. Everything. Maybe mine, too.
Fuck.
Perhaps I’m being a little dramatic, but even the short time I’ve spent with Kat has made it clear that she’s someone who takes herself seriously. She’s cultivated an image that she sticks to, and it’s easy to see why, in the cutthroat ivory tower of academia. I can’t imagine she’s ever been at the center of a campus scandal.
“One, you come clean to Randi. Tell her you lied. That you’re not dating Professor Milas. That you said it as a joke or whatever. She’s going to take some convincing, and it might not actually reverse the damage if she’s already spreading gossip.”
A pit forms in my stomach.
“What’s the second option?” Please, please be better than the first one.
“You make it true. Convince Professor Kathleen Milas to be your girlfriend.”