7. Kat
7
KAT
I tap the stack of papers against the desk to straighten them, then I slip them into a manila folder and slide it into the filing cabinet. Done.
I look around my office, nodding. Everything’s in its place, other than the clock that has somehow tilted to the side. I reach up to straighten it, but I can’t quite reach.
“Do you have a minute?”
The deep voice startles me, and I almost lose my balance as I spin to see Blake closing my office door behind him. Of course he’d be the one to walk in as I almost fall over.
Smooth, Kat.
“Can I help you?” I run my hands over my skirt, straightening it as I make sure it hasn’t ridden up .
He strides across the office until he’s standing next to me, then reaches up easily and adjusts the clock, making me realize again just how tall he is.
At five foot ten, I’m as tall as lots of men. I’m not used to being towered over. It’s unsettling, somehow. It makes me feel like we’re not on a level playing ground, literally, and I hate this feeling.
Is this what short women feel like all the time?
“I have to talk with you.” He steps back around me and takes a seat in one of the chairs I have for students who come to my office hours.
I sit down in my desk chair, grateful for the large piece of wood between us. “I see. What can I do for you?”
I didn’t expect to see him in my office, but it’s not like the location is a secret. Everyone’s office location is in the faculty directory. Ideally, though, it’s so students know where to go for office hours. Not so we can drop in on one another.
He looks supremely uncomfortable. It’s a far cry from the confident man I met in the bar and the one I saw in the student union only a few hours ago.
He clears his throat. “I have a confession.”
I lift my eyebrow.
“And I would like to say, first, that I didn’t think it through, and I’m hoping to make things right here.” He pulls at the back of his neck.
I give him a nod to continue. No use reacting until I have all the information.
“Uh, I told Randi. You know, the department secretary, the one who works in my building. The one who’s always hitting on the professors.”
“Yes, I know Randi. What did you tell her?” This is getting weird, if it wasn’t already.
“I told her you were my girlfriend.”
“You did what ?” I say, louder than I intend to, then I gather myself. It takes several deep breaths to push down the anger in my chest. “I’m sorry. What exactly did you do?”
He winces. “I was trying to get her to back off. And we’d just had lunch, so you were the first person I thought of. And you said that thing about how it would be easier to be in a relationship.”
I force my jaw to relax, because I’ve seen my angry face, and it’s not attractive. Flaring nostrils, clenched teeth, eyes that look like they’re about to shoot lasers.
But Blake might deserve to be on the receiving end of that look, because this is going to ruin everything. All my work to be taken seriously in this field, and I’m going to be taken down by this ass clown.
But I tamp down my rage, because if there’s anything that will ruin my reputation even faster than this rumor going around, it’s me flying off the handle and giving them the stereotype of the dumb model.
And I’m not a stereotype. I’m better than that.
I realize I’m unconsciously smoothing my skirt and instead lace my fingers together. “Professor Grantham, this—”
“Blake.”
I raise my eyebrow. “I’m speaking, Professor.”
His mouth hangs open for a second before he snaps it shut. I hold back my smile, but the look of utter shock on his face makes me happier than it should.
“As I was saying, this could have serious consequences. I’m not sure you thought it out properly.”
He waits a second after I finish. “May I?”
I nod.
Blake stands from his chair and paces behind it. “I didn’t think at all. I’m aware of that, and I apologize.”
I’m impressed. Most people deflect when confronted, or they get defensive. He’s owning his mistake.
“But the fact remains that this piece of information is out there. Now, you didn’t willingly enter this situation, but we’re in this together now, and again, I apologize for dragging you into it.” He takes a breath and leans on the back of the chair. “I’d like to propose a solution. One I’ve actually thought through.”
“Mmm?” My spine is ramrod straight.
“I’d propose that rather than a rumor we try to sweep under the rug, leading to speculation about one-night stands and the like, we address this head-on. Acknowledge that we’re dating, make it out in the open. People can’t gossip about the truth.”
They can and they will, but his suggestion makes me pause. He does have a point, I realize. Potential rumors of the two of us having a one-night stand or having dated are more damaging, somehow, than the idea of two adults being in a relationship.
I tap my nails on the desk. “To be clear, are you asking me out?”
He shakes his head. “Not exactly. It’s more…” He thinks for a minute. “Remember that night? In the bar? Having me available as a boyfriend was convenient. It helped you out. Right?”
I give him a tight smile. He would have to bring that up, wouldn’t he? Just another thing I don’t need to be floating around campus.
“It did. Thank you again.”
“So this is the same thing. We can help one another out.”
I’m not sure this is the same thing at all. This seems like a much different, and much larger, proposition. One that I don’t have time for, if I’m going to gun for that promotion.
The deep blue of his eyes is hypnotic, and for a second I want to say yes, just to get to know him better, to spend more time with him, but common sense prevails.
I shake my head. “I can’t do that. I’m sorry I can’t help you out.”
His face falls. “I…”
He looks so lost, so worried for a minute, that I crack. Just a little.
“You don’t have to walk back anything with Randi. If it comes up again, just…say we broke up. That you’re dating someone else by then.”
Blake stands up straight and pulls on the back of his neck. He looks more uncomfortable than I’ve ever seen him, but to be fair, I haven’t known him very long.
“Fair enough. Thanks for hearing me out. My apologies for intruding on your day.”
I give him a smile to soften the blow, if that’s even possible. “Thank you for understanding. ”
As he walks out the door, I lean back in my desk chair. I should feel more relieved. But for some reason I can’t quite understand, I feel almost disappointed.
I knock on the door of Adam Kashman’s office. The dean of faculty is the final say in promotions, and I’ve worked hard to stay on his good side, even if he is a little turd at times.
“Kathleen. Come in,” he says, barely glancing up.
I’m not offended because him not looking up is better than his leering at my chest.
These things bought me a degree. But they’re not going to be the thing that buys me a promotion. I’m going to do that on my own.
I close the door behind me as I step into his office and take a seat. “Good to see you, Adam. How was your summer?”
He finishes writing something on the paper in front of him, then he caps his pen and sets it to the side. His gaze dips to my chest and, mercifully, back to my face. “It was fine, thank you. Yours? Did you visit your family?”
“My mother lives in Washington, D.C., but no, I didn’t have a chance to visit. I spent the summer working on my research.”
The politics are the worst part of academia. Play the game, make small talk, don’t let anyone in too deep.
“It was great,” I continue. “I was able to make some good progress on a couple of studies and get one paper ready for publication.”
“Good, good.” He takes his glasses off and cleans them, one lens at a time. “I’m working on faculty committee assignments for the year. Are you okay staying on the Faculty Affairs committee?”
I smile broadly, ignoring the fact that I’ve been the only woman on the committee for years and likely will be this year. “Faculty Affairs would be lovely.”
Lovely may be overselling it a touch. And no one in their right mind smiles this widely when thinking about their committee assignments. It’s another admin task that they add to our already overcrowded plates.
Adam returns my smile. “Great. I’ll finalize that later today.” He sets his pen on the desk. “Actually, I was wondering if I could ask you something.”
“Of course.”
He clears his throat. “I know we’ve always had a good working relationship. I’m wondering if”—he clears his throat again—“you’d like to go out. With me,” he clarifies, making the whole thing that much more awkward as he steals another look at my boobs.
I blink at him. His bald spot shines in the fluorescent lights of the office, the comb-over doing nothing to hide the hair loss.
How do I answer that?
Hell no is my first instinct. But it’s not only rude but will shoot any chance of a promotion to hell.
Saying yes is committing me to dinner with this man, who I tolerate only because of the power he holds over my career. And if I say yes, the options will be that I’ll eventually have to break up with him—see said power over my career—or deal with the people who imply, or say outright, that I slept my way to a promotion.
I suppress a shudder.
“Oh, Adam, I’m flattered. But I’m dating someone.” The lie comes out way too easily, and I suddenly understand how Blake found himself in this situation.
The flash of disappointment that crosses his face is gone as quickly as it appears. “Ah. Well, perhaps I should have asked sooner, eh? If you ever break up with him, I’d love to take you out.”
I need to get out of this office. “Of course. Thanks for understanding. Looking forward to working with you on Faculty Affairs this year.”
I smile brightly as I retreat, but the smile fades as soon as I’m a few feet down the hall. I walk across the quad, right past the Biology building and toward the building that houses the Econ department.
Because in a matter of hours, everything has changed. It’s no longer Blake who needs a favor from me. We need one another now.
Thanks to Angela and the magic of texting, I have Blake’s office number by the time I walk past Randi’s office into the Econ department. She glares at me from her desk, where she’s examining her acrylic nails.
I give her a friendly wave. I’m dating someone in her department, apparently. She’d better get used to seeing me.
Blake is standing in his office, his back to the door. It looks like he’s contemplating moving furniture or decorating the bland space. Having seen the lack of decor in his home, my money is on rearranging furniture.
I don’t even knock, just walking in and closing the door behind me. “I’ve thought it over. ”
He startles. “Hi?”
I pull one of the chairs toward me and sit down, crossing my legs at the ankle. “Your proposition. I’ve given it more thought, and I’d like to proceed with being your girlfriend. Fake girlfriend.”
He stares at me, running a hand over his square jaw. The intensity of his blue eyes would make me squirm if I were anyone else, but he can’t intimidate me. I’ve spent too long in academia to cower in front of men who think they hold some kind of power over me.
He keeps his gaze on me as he crosses to his chair and sits, folding one knee over the other. “What made you change your mind?”
I play his game, folding my hands in my lap as I lean forward. “I’ve come to the conclusion that it would be mutually advantageous.”
And not only that, but he’s the one who asked for my help with this first. So agreeing to this arrangement gives me some kind of power, or at least puts us back on level playing ground after our night together. And I’ve checked the faculty handbook, just to make absolutely certain, and there’s no rule against dating a co-worker.
He lifts a brow, and I let out a long sigh. Jesus, he makes it hard to keep up the professional exterior .
“Fine. I met with the dean of faculty, the one who’s going to be the decision maker on whether I get promoted this year.”
A look of surprise crosses his face. I wait for him to bring up my age again.
Instead, he nods slowly. “That’s got to be stressful. Exciting, but a stressful time.”
He’s surprised me a few times. It should make me wary, but somehow, I’m warming to him.
“It is. Both. Anyway, he asked me out. And I…told him I was in a relationship.”
A smile plays at his lips. “Ah. You fell into the same trap I did. But with the dean, not a secretary.”
I wince. “Yeah. So at this point, my options are pretty much to join Tinder and hope for the best, or to move forward with…whatever this is.”
He crosses his arms over his chest, studying me. “Well, I may have started this thing, but I think it can work out in both our favors. I’m glad to have you on board.”
Let’s not get hasty. “I think we need a few ground rules, though.”
Blake unbuttons his shirt cuffs and rolls the sleeves up to his elbows, one at a time, revealing his corded forearms, and I have a flashback to him doing the same thing in his living room, right before we…
“Fair enough. What were you thinking?” he asks.
“Do you have something to write on?” I look around for a notepad.
Blake reaches into a drawer and produces a legal pad and a pen, which he passes to me.
I scoot the chair closer to the desk and start to make a numbered list.
“One. This is for looks only. No real feelings, no physical touch other than what’s necessary to convince our colleagues that this is real.”
He nods. “Agreed. And this needs to look like a mature, stable relationship. No other relationships while we’re committed to this arrangement. We don’t need more rumors.”
I can live with that. I’m not focusing on anything but my career right now. I’ll have time for a real relationship after I get promoted. Probably.
“We’ll need to get to know one another enough to make it convincing.”
Blake rubs his jaw. “One dinner a week, two lunches at the student union.”
“I’m not having dinner with you. This isn’t real.”
He shrugs, and I realize that despite my best efforts, I’m not fully in control here. It seems to be a pattern I fall into around this man.
“Or another date of your choosing,” he says. “We need to know one another well enough to make it appear real. And the last thing we need is meetings in one another’s offices with the door closed. That’ll fuel rumors, too.”
Crap. He’s right. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, it’s that appearances matter. They matter more than reality, in fact. Because what other people see is their reality.
“Fine. One date a week, when we’re both available. I choose the place.”
“Works for me. And two lunches.” He points to the paper where I’m listing the rules.
I stop writing, my pen hovering. “Why?”
“Same thing. And appearances. Would two people who are dating never be seen together at work?” He grins, and something melts inside me. “I’ll buy you gelato.”
I add the rule about lunch in neat lettering. “We’ll alternate who buys.”
Blake crosses his arms over his chest. “Okay, then.”
I cap the pen and push the pad across the table toward him. “Anything else you’d like to add?”
He reads through the short list. “We continue until we both agree it isn’t working in our favor.”
I shake my head. “No. If one of us wants out, this agreement ends. ”
He pins me with a stare, those brilliant blue eyes baring my soul. I force myself not to squirm. Back straight, hands still, eyes on his. Deep breaths.
Finally, he nods. “Okay. Either of us can end this agreement.”
I pull the paper back toward myself and start to add the new rule.
Blake holds up one finger. “But.”
I pause, my pen hovering after the number four.
“We will discuss any end to our agreement. Together. No unilaterally pulling out without a discussion.”
“Fine.” I add it to the list. “Anything else?”
Blake picks up the paper and reads through it out loud, nodding with each number. “One. No touching other than what’s necessary. Two. No other relationships. Three. One dinner at restaurant of Kat’s choosing and two lunches at student union, per week. Payer alternates. Four. This agreement may be ended by either party following a discussion between both parties.” He looks up at me. “Are you sure you’re not a lawyer?”
I wrinkle my nose at the idea. “My mom’s a lawyer, and it never looked like fun. All that reading of briefs? I’d never have made it through law school. I like questions where the answer is more cut and dry. ”
Blake’s lips twitch.
“What?” I furrow my brow, going over my answer to figure out what was funny.
“No pun intended?”
“Huh?” I think back on what I said about school, about answers being cut and… Oh.
“Cut. Because you dissect things for Anatomy, right?” Blake shakes his head. “Sorry. It’s been a weird day.”
I can’t help it. I let out a snort of laughter. The dad jokes get me every time.
Blake’s smile broadens, and the lines at the sides of his eyes crinkle, making him look even sexier, if that were possible. Enough that I manage to pull it together.
This is an arrangement. Nothing more.
I stick my hand out. “Well, then. We have a deal?”
Blake shakes my hand, his large palm gripping mine. “Agreed. Give me your phone number, and we can arrange our first lunch meeting.”
I dictate it to him while he keys the numbers into his phone.
“I sent you a text so you have my number.” Blake stands and turns toward the door as he slides his phone into the pocket of his fitted pants, making my gaze slide to his ass.
I clear my throat. “Well, then. I’ll, um, be in touch.”
Blake nods and moves to the door. His hand on the handle, he turns back toward me. “One more rule.”
I wait silently for him to add in whatever he thinks he can slip by me.
But what he says is, “No falling in love.”
I snort. “Well, no fake dating contract would be complete without that, but don’t worry. There’s no chance of that.”