10. Kat
10
KAT
“ W hat am I going to do?” I hiss.
I have no idea how I didn’t think of this until just before the faculty meeting. This is going to be a disaster.
Naomi shrugs from her usual spot on Angela’s office couch, clearly not grasping the gravity of this situation. “I think you can just do what you normally do at faculty meetings. Actually speak up when the dean asks questions and make the rest of us look bad. Why?”
I throw my hands in the air. “But what about Blake?”
Both of them stare at me blankly.
“What does that have to do with faculty meeting?” Naomi peers at me, confused .
“ Everything .” I pace around Angela’s office, stepping over the stacks of books that haven’t quite made it back to the bookshelf. “I told the dean I was dating someone, and that’s why I couldn’t go out with him. It seemed like a good option at the time.”
Angela picks up a mug from the desk (this one proclaiming SCIENCE DOESN’T GIVE A FUCK WHAT YOU BELIEVE ) and sniffs the contents before making a face. “I think this coffee is from last week.”
I feel like she’s not taking any of this seriously. Neither of them are.
Since Blake and I came to our agreement three weeks ago, we’ve had lunch together in the student union twice a week, and I’ve had at least one complete meltdown per week about the situation.
In that time, I’ve learned several things. Normally, during this time of the semester, all I’m focused on is figuring out which students need extra attention and what kind of class I’m looking at. Do they need cold, hard facts, or do they need things to be described with a little more color? I’ve always prided myself on being able to get a quick handle on the type of class I’m working with.
What I haven’t gotten a handle on, though, is how this arrangement with Blake is going to go. This seems to surprise everyone who finds out, but I don’t have a lot of experience dating.
I’ve spent my entire life focused on getting to the next step—finishing high school, graduating from college, getting my PhD, getting tenure, and meanwhile, working to make each of those things possible. In academics, there’s always another stepping stone to reach for, and when your goal is to get to the next one as quickly as possible, it doesn’t leave a lot of time for dating.
But Blake is making it…easy, so far. He’s serious, especially about his classes, and I respect him for it. But even outside of class, he carries himself with a quiet confidence. It’s like he’s so sure of his place in the world, how he fits into it, and how he moves through it.
It’s exactly the image I try to project to the world, too. But while I put on the armor of confidence, it seems like it’s just a part of Blake’s personality.
I blow out a breath. “I’m going to get going. I want to get there early.”
Angela frowns at the week-old coffee. “I’m going to get a fresh cup. I’ll see you there.”
I focus on the click of my heels against the linoleum as I walk through the interconnected buildings. When I mentioned this to Blake and we planned to meet up before the meeting, it all seemed fine. It was fine, until today, when I realized that this is a make-or-break moment.
Adam will be there, of course. He runs these meetings. And he’s going to put two and two together when he sees Blake and me together.
It has to be convincing. If Adam sees through it, I’m screwed. No promotion—that’s a given. They may even take my tenure away or send me in front of the disciplinary board for something like this. I don’t know. I’ve never looked into the etiquette and rules for dating another faculty member because I never pictured being in this situation.
And as my dad always says, it’s not what the truth is. It’s what people believe the truth is.
Turning the corner, I see Blake leaning against the wall next to the doorway to the lecture hall. His lips turn up when he sees me, and he pushes off the wall to take a few steps toward me.
“Hey, Kat. Kathleen for the purposes of this meeting, right?”
My palms are sweaty.
“Hey. I…” I look up and down the hallway, my gaze lighting on an open classroom door halfway do wn the corridor, and I point to it. “Can we talk in there?”
“Sure.” Blake follows me down the hall, nodding to a math professor who passes us.
He steps past me into the empty room, hands in his pockets. He looks far too relaxed for the shitshow we may be walking into.
Shutting the door, I turn to him. “We need to have our stories straight.”
He frowns, his brows knitting together. “I thought we did. You and I met outside of work—not a lie, for the record—and we’re dating. No one needs to know that much more about it.”
I don’t think he understands how much I have riding on this. I need him to be on point, to sell this.
“The dean of faculty runs this meeting. I told him I’m dating someone, remember? He can’t see through anything. Everything I’ve worked for is riding on this, Blake.” My stomach twists.
This whole thing was a mistake, wasn’t it? One mistake, one misstep. That’s all it takes for someone’s career to come crashing down. I’ve seen it before, more than once.
Stepping toward me, Blake places his hands on my upper arms. His touch is light but firm as he holds me in place.
“Kat.”
When I don’t look up, he says my name again, then takes one hand and presses his fingers under my chin, forcing me to look directly into those intense blue eyes.
“We’ve got this. Trust me.” His deep voice washes over me. “Follow my lead, and I’ll take care of everything. Got it?”
I’m momentarily stunned into silence, and all I can do is nod.
Blake presses a kiss to my forehead, muddling my thoughts further. Taking my hand, he leads me out of the classroom and down the hall, where he holds the door open for me to enter the lecture hall before him. His hand brushes against my lower back while we head up the aisle to a seat.
If I thought I wasn’t ready to share our little ruse with the full complement of the Ardmore College faculty, I was completely unprepared for how his touch makes me feel. The warmth of his hand settles at the base of my spine.
My breath quickens slightly. I swallow hard, reminding myself that this isn’t real.
But Blake is doing a damn good job of selling it.
“Committee assignments are on page three.” Adam’s voice is muffled by the entirety of the lecture hall flipping through the sheets he passed out to find the referenced page. “Most of you maintain the same assignments from last year, and we appreciate your hard work. If yours changed, I tried to speak with some of you ahead of time.”
I know what my committee assignment is—Faculty Affairs—but I turn the page to double check. There it is in black and white—Kathleen Milas, Faculty Affairs. I let out a small sigh of relief.
An elbow nudges me, and I look to my left to see a smile playing at Blake’s lips. Following his finger, I see what he’s pointing to. A few rows above my name—Blake Grantham, Faculty Affairs.
We’re on the same committee. With Adam chairing it, nonetheless.
I inwardly groan. It’s not that I’m opposed to spending time with Blake. I’m enjoying it, honestly. A lot.
Leaning toward me, Blake whispers in my ear, “Worried about spending more time with me?”
His lips graze the shell of my ear, sending a zing of electricity through me.
I inhale through my nose, holding my breath for a few seconds before exhaling, and then repeat the process. I know my body is reacting to his closeness because he’s the last man I’ve been with, and other than him, I’ve been in a dry spell for a while.
That’s all it is. That and hormones and nerve endings. I know enough about physiology to understand exactly what chemical is spiking in my brain right now—dopamine, and possibly oxytocin—so I know better than to fall for it.
But seriously, we’re at a faculty meeting. I don’t need to walk out of here with wet underwear.
I give him a subtle shake of my head, but from the smirk on his face, he’s not buying it.
Another pulse of heat goes through me when his fingers tap my leg, just above the knee. “If you don’t mind spending time with me, I have a favor to ask.”
His breath is hot against my cheek. He’s doing a good job of selling this ruse, that’s for sure.
“What?” I breathe, doing my best to focus on what Adam’s saying at the front of the room.
Something about getting grades in on time and volunteering to mentor different student groups.
The soft vibrations of my phone from inside my purse grab my attention, and when I look at Blake, he nods toward it. I reach into my purse and pull the phone out. There’s a new text message, and I swipe the phone open to read it.
Blake
Any chance you’d be my date for my friend’s wedding in a couple months?
I kind of already told them you’d be there.
He did what ? I type out a response and hit Send.
When? Where? How do you know we have the time off?
It’s Thanksgiving weekend. They scheduled it that way because it’s just friends and family, and most people have time off. It’s in the Bahamas.
I consider. This is further than I planned to take things with this fake relationship. Going to a wedding together seems much more like a real-couple thing.
But then, we’re in this to help one another out, right? I don’t mind hanging out with Blake. And it’s not like I had plans for the holiday, anyway.
Despite my hormones trying to push for more, I can see him turning into a good friend. And if I can help him out and go to the Bahamas? Two birds, one stone, right? Maybe it would be okay.
I’ll check my schedule but if I’m free I’m happy to go.
What’s the dress code? Should I bring a gift?
Island casual. So I think like sundresses and stuff. They told me to wear shorts. And I’ll take care of the gift.
The idea of Blake in shorts has me grinning. He’s so buttoned up at work. But then, so am I.
It’s leggings, for the record. All leggings, all the time, outside of work.
Oh, you think leggings aren’t pants? Keep your negativity to yourself, sister.
They’re comfortable, they make my ass look fantastic, and really, what more do you need?
Okay. I’ll check my planner after the meeting.
Also, she wants to meet you. The bride.
… and my friends. I apologize in advance, they’re assholes. I mean, nice guys. They just like to give one another shit. And that includes me.
And as far as they’re concerned… this is real.
I tap my finger on the edge of the phone as I think about Blake with his friends. I wonder how different he is.
When Angela and Naomi and I hang out, not only are we in leggings, but it’s like we’re entirely different people outside of work, and if I’m honest, I’m intrigued to know what Blake is like outside these hallowed halls of academia.
“That’s all from me. Any questions or other business?” Adam says, drawing my attention back to the meeting.
I have no idea what he said in the last ten minutes or so. I can guess—it’s the same every month, more or less—and I’ll get the rundown from Angela or Naomi.
Adam dismisses the meeting, and we all stand and gather our things.
I turn to Blake. “You want me to meet your friends?”
Shrugging, he lifts his messenger bag and slips the strap over his head. “They’re asking to meet my girlfriend. Addie especially wants to meet you. She’s the bride. ”
“Well, yeah. Of course I have to meet the bride if I’m going to the wedding. I don’t want to crash.”
I wouldn’t want people I’ve never met at my own wedding someday. I don’t want one of those huge weddings, where it’s half a wedding and half a networking event. When it’s my turn someday, I want friends and family only. Like Addie, apparently.
Blake chuckles as we make our way down the aisle toward the door, his hand on my lower back again. “You’re not crashing. You’re my date. She’s just nosy. They all are.”
“Professor Grantham,” a voice interrupts as we reach the door. “Adam Kashman. Dean of faculty.”
He extends his hand to Blake.
“Good to see you, Dean Kashman.” Blake shakes his hand. “I remember meeting you at the recruitment dinner. How’ve you been?”
It’s impressive to watch, the confidence in Blake’s posture. He doesn’t look the least bit intimidated by the man who holds all the power over his career. But then, maybe I’d be less intimidated if I towered over Adam by at least eight inches.
“Good, good.” Adam lifts his chin in my direction. “Kathleen mentioned she was dating someone.”
Blake nods in answer to the unasked question. “It’s new, and we’re trying to be fairly subtle, but yes, Kathleen and I are dating.”
Adam runs a hand over his jaw, his gaze bouncing between Blake and me.
Finally, he nods. “I like you two together. It’s giving me a few ideas.”
Oh, crap.