Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Liaden
I pick up a jacket potato with cheesy beans and plenty of salad for a late lunch.
Simple, but satisfying. The cafeteria on campus is actually pretty good.
Granted, it’s no Harvard Dining Hall, but I’ve never had food poisoning from there, and the menu is diverse, in spite of my boring choice today.
Plus, if you go at the right time, it’s not swarming with boisterous or keyed up students, so you can actually hear yourself think.
Once I’ve paid, I turn towards the tables, just in time to see the Vice Chancellor himself walk in.
He’s accompanied by a selection of the Pro-Vice Chancellors for the different Schools - and, inexplicably, Peter Lang.
He’s not so much as the Deputy Dean of his School, so I wonder how he managed to finagle an invitation to lunch with these higher higher-ups slumming it in the canteen with the rest of us mere mortals.
“Peter!” I call exuberantly with a friendly wave.
I’ve been dying to chat with him ever since I met Sadie, because, although I find this difficult to believe, I must have misread him somewhere along the line.
People say that judging people is wrong, but we all do it all the time, reflexively.
We measure people up and say, this one I like, this one I can see myself relating to, this one I don’t.
There’s no moral dimension to it. I once looked at Peter, spent a few moments in his company, and put him on my ‘no’ pile.
But there must be more to the man who didn’t exert himself to show me the most basic, scant levels of politeness when we met, if he’s actually landed a woman like Sadie.
Tim really doesn’t like him, though, which is a pretty strong validation of my first impressions. But then, Sadie seems to be a smart woman, not the type to be fooled.
Ah, well. I suppose we’ll soon see.
He flinches at my loud salutation and looks a little puzzled. Actually, he looks mildly affronted that I’d have the nerve to greet him, but wait, no, I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt. That might just be his face’s normal expression, poor man.
“Hallo, how are you?” I walk right up to him and smile like we’re friends.
“Er…yes, fine, thank you, ah, Leona.”
“Liaden. But that’s OK, it’s an unusual name to have to remember,” I dimple at him, though my teeth clench. Benefit. Of. The. Doubt. The way he comes across could also be explained by social anxiety as much as self-importance.
“Yes,” he replies, and doesn’t say anything further.
OK, let’s try again. “I met your lovely girlfriend the other day.” His eyes widen, and he casts a worried look at the Vice Chancellor, David.
I’ve met him a couple of times, and he’s a good egg, if full of his own importance.
But I imagine it’s easy for a man in his position to be like that.
And he doesn’t strike me as the sort to disapprove of small talk about our lives outside of the office, so I’m not sure why Peter looks like a deer in headlights.
“Sadie’s ever such a nice woman. I’ve been getting a tattoo done on my back by Dean - you know Dean, I’m sure?
Isn’t he endearing? He’s doing an exemplary - ”
“ Must you speak so loudly?” His eyes are hard as he interrupts me, and although his voice is quiet, it’s soaked in genuine annoyance.
I narrow my eyes. “I beg your pardon?” I say, not amending the volume of my voice at all .
“Some of us don’t like our personal business shouted across the cafeteria where we work ,” he snaps, looking back at the VC again.
David is paying us no mind, so I cannot understand why he finds this so unseemly.
This is a massive overreaction, and I’m irritated by being unable to understand why.
Before I can reply, he starts again. “This is an academic institution in working hours. Keep this kind of banal nonsense for more appropriate times.” And with that, he walks away, making a beeline for David and engaging him in intent conversation, pointedly ignoring me.
So much for the benefit of the doubt.
Twat.
Sadie
“ I fucking love Fireball! ” Leo crows as he obliterates the zombies we’ve been battling all evening with one devastating spell. Granted, all of our Dungeons and Dragons characters pitched in, and my Rogue did a decent amount of damage with her rapier, but once again Leo finished the fight.
I roll my eyes at Emily, who laughs as she starts to gather the table map up. “We’ll call it there, I think.”
To my surprise, I’ve really come to enjoy our fortnightly Dungeons and Dragons night.
Seeing how happy it makes Em makes it worth taking part just for that, but she always makes it fun.
As does Leo in his leather armour over his t-shirt, and Eli with the adoring way he looks at my homegirl, and Dean with his dark humour.
That he called his Wizard Teller still makes me laugh.
Though, I must say, he’s not his usual self tonight.
We’ve all been exchanging concerned looks, because this seems like more than his usual tired pallor.
He’s scowling, and he’s barely looked up from his dice all evening.
There’s a muscle jumping in his jaw, and he’s been drumming his fingers on the table off and on.
He isn’t responding to our banter, and I’ve caught him eyeing the liquor cabinet a couple of times .
Eli’s worried, I can tell. He keeps trying to catch Dean’s eye, but he’s not playing ball.
I love and adore Dean, and feel as protective of him as his cousins do. If there’s something wrong, I want to know about it and try to help.
“Y’alright, bud?” I ask him, collecting everyone’s character sheets. I don’t see the point in beating about the bush.
His eyes snap to me, and they seem darker than normal. Angry. He muffles it, and gives a terse nod. It makes me feel a little cold. Angry Dean is rarely seen, and therefore quite unnerving.
“Wanna talk about it?” Leo asks, his voice gentle as cotton. For such a goofball, Leo knows how and when to tread softly.
No, I don’t. He means it. There’s a warning emanating from his eyes: ‘do NOT push me’. His eyes travel once again to the lined up bottles of booze.
“You promised your mom you wouldn’t.” Eli’s voice is quiet, but firm. Nothing is going to push Dean back into the depths of hell again if he can help it, least of all Dean himself.
There’s a stare-off between them, Eli meeting his cousin’s gaze evenly while Dean’s eyes rage at him, finally dissolving into frustrated annoyance as he looks away. I wasn’t going to. Leave me alone.
Em fidgets, like she’s unsure what to do with herself. Tension always makes her a little uncomfortable, though she’s doing a lot better lately. I glance at the cigarette burn scar on her face. It's faded significantly, but it's not all the way gone. I often tell her it's her badge of courage.
“If you don’t tell us what’s up, we can’t help.” Eli looks after Dean, and makes every reasonable allowance, but I know he doesn’t tolerate any shit.
Maybe I don’t want your help. Maybe there isn’t any way for you to help. Maybe you should just butt out. Leo translates for me and Em, as we’re still intermediate in sign language. Dean gives him an irritated glare. Asshole. “Hey!” Leo protests.
“Maybe you shouldn’t take your bad mood out on us,” Eli responds softly. “We want to help. And maybe we can’t. But Leo is not an asshole for caring. None of us are.”
The silence stretches out, and because Dean’s face is so expressive, you can see his anger melt into indignation, and then shame, and then regret. I’m sorry. I just… I’m not in a good headspace. I should probably go. He starts to stand up.
“Please,” Em pipes up, “just let us know what’s going on.”
Dean has a soft spot for Em, like we all do, so he sits back down. I need… He huffs impatiently. She’s gotten under my skin, and I need her not to be.
Oh.
We all look at each other while he gathers his dice up.
This is a pretty big deal. I can’t speak for Leo or Eli, but I’ve certainly never seen him bent out of shape over anyone before.
Some clients flirt outrageously with him, and it’s water off a duck’s back.
I knew he was sweet on Liaden, but I never thought he’d admit it, to us or even himself.
But if he’s biting heads off about it, he clearly has stronger feelings about this woman than he’s had for anyone in a long time.
Which makes this a really big deal .
“OK, I’m going to say the thing,” Leo says, with a serious look. “If you ask her out, she’ll say yes. It's as plain as the nose on your face.”
And then what? His hands are signing quickly, angrily. If the fact that I’m a fucking wreck isn’t enough, I have two words for you, Leo: Your. Eyebrow.
Understanding dawns on Leo’s face, and he shakes his head. “But that wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame you for it - ”
I blame me, OK? I blame me. So drop it, because I’m not going to risk her safety.
Imagine if… He swallows visibly. Imagine if she stayed at mine for the night, and I had a nightmare, or I take her to a restaurant and the wrong song plays and triggers a flashback, or some shit like that.
All sorts of scenarios, all with the same problem.
I could hurt her. And there’s no way I’m going to take that chance just because I can’t stop thinking about her.
My heart aches. “Oh, love - ”
He cuts me off, his eyes weary. So I just need to get her tattoo done, and then…let her go. Forget about her, go back to normal, and move on. That’s the way things should be.
He looks so thoroughly defeated, with shadows under his eyes as they stare listlessly at the table, that I can’t bear it.