by Noelle Adams
“Yes.”
“So why didn’t you take them? You’re going to have to teach a lot at Milford. You won’t be able to do as much writing and research.”
“I know.”
He doesn’t say anything more, and it bothers me. He hasn’t answered my question, and I really want him to.
As I lie there and wait, it occurs to me that he’s told me nothing about his background. Nothing very personal beyond his hobbies, his time in graduate school, and the places he’s traveled. He’s never talked about his family except mentioning his lunches with his younger sister. He’s never told me about friends or past relationships. I’ve told him everything, and he’s never told me much of anything.
Here I was thinking we were getting close, and we weren’t. Not really.
When the silence drags on too long, I say softly, “Evan?”
He lets out a breath. “Yeah. I took the job at Milford because it was closest to my family.”
“Really? Was it that important you be close to them?” I try to keep my tone casual, like I’m not making a big deal out of it.
But it feels like a big deal. He’s finally telling me something.
“Not my folks. But my sister. I wanted to be close to her.”
“Oh. Is everything okay with her?” I’m not exactly sure how to ask this question, but it seems like he has a particular reason for wanting to be close to her, and I want to know what it is.
“Yeah. She’s good. Just seventeen. And... I don’t know... lonely.”
“She doesn’t have a lot of friends?”
“No. She’s a lot like me. She’s really smart and loves reading and writing and would hide herself away in her room all the time if she could. She’s doing fine. I don’t think she’s in any sort of trouble or anything. But I think she’s lonely. She feels like she doesn’t fit in—the way I did most of my life. And so I want to be there for her.”
I think about what he’s told me. How much more he’s told me in the past minute than he’s ever told me before. I reach over and rub his flat belly with my palm. “That’s nice of you. To be a brother to her like that.”
“I...” He trails off. Clears his throat. Then starts again. “I felt like I didn’t really have anyone growing up. Not anyone like me. I don’t want her to feel the same way.”
“So you didn’t feel close to your parents?”
He gives a half shrug as an answer.
“Evan?” I prompt.
“It’s just that they’re different. From me and from Sara. I don’t want her to feel alone the way I always did.”
It means something to me that he’s opened up this much. I adjust closer to him so I can nuzzle his neck. I keep stroking his chest and belly.
We don’t say anything for a long time. It feels like if I ask another question, I’ll push too far and he’ll close up again.
I’m right about that.
After several minutes, I say softly, “Thanks for telling me all that. Why don’t you ever talk about your family?”
“There’s not much to say.” His mood has changed. He turns over onto his side with a smile that seems intentional rather than genuine. “My family isn’t all that interesting. Not nearly as interesting as kissing you.”
Before I can respond, he’s kissing me again, and it’s hard to say no to that. We kiss and he caresses my breasts, stomach, and thighs until I’m really turned on. He gets me off with his hand, and I gasp out my release against his mouth.
“Okay,” he says when he finally pulls away. “We’ve had about all that we have time for this morning. I need to run home so I can get dressed and get to work on time.”
“Yeah. I need to get up too. I have class at eight.” I stretch under the covers, enjoying the lingering effects of my orgasm. “See you in the office.”
He gives me a quick kiss before he leaves.
It’s only after he’s gone that I realize he very effectively changed the subject so he wouldn’t have to keep talking about his family.
A FEW DAYS LATER, I stay on campus until five, putting together a conference paper proposal that’s due today. I always leave things like that until the very last minute. But I get it submitted before the deadline, and since it’s five, I wait a few minutes until Evan is ready to leave so I can walk home with him.
There aren’t a lot of students meandering around at this time of day. Only a few classes meet at this time, and it’s too early for most of the students to be heading for dinner. But the sidewalks are filled with the staff who work regular business hours heading for their cars to go home.
Several of them wave or greet us. I look carefully, but no one is peering at us with any real curiosity or suspicion.
Faculty walk around campus together all the time, and evidently it doesn’t cross anyone’s mind that something might be going on between Evan and me.
It’s good. It’s better that way. But it bothers me a little.
I’m having sex with Evan. We are together. Maybe not seriously, but in a real way. There’s no reason why we can’t be even more than that in the future.
I’d be a good match for Evan. People should be able to see it.
“What’s the matter?” he asks as we cross the parking lot that’s the shortest route to our neighborhood.
“Nothing.”
“You look like something is annoying you.” His eyes search my face. “Is it me?”
I giggle. “No. It’s not you. You’ve been very unannoying today.”
“Ah. That’s good then.”
I experience a definitely swoony feeling at the fond look in his eyes. I want him to look at me like that all the time. No sense in denying it.
I’m still trying to process the reality of this feeling when we reach the vacant lot. I watch as Evan steps into it. He leans over to pick up a bottle cap that must be today’s gift from the crows and then tosses out some peanuts in shells he’s had in one of his pockets.
I shake my head as he comes back to me. “You’re giving the crows peanuts in the evenings too now?”
He shrugs and gives me a sheepish look. “They discovered that I walk by at this time every day and started waiting for me in the evenings too. I hate to disappoint them when they give me so many presents.”
I laugh and reach over to take his arm companionably, mostly because I feel the need to touch him. “You’ve got a soft heart, you know. You should let more people know about it.”
“Uh-huh,” he says dryly.
“I mean it. Why do you hide it?”
He gives me another shrug. “I have an older brother. It wasn’t smart to act too softhearted with him around.”
I almost gasp at that revelation—almost the only thing he’s ever said about his family other than the existence of his younger sister. “Was your brother hard on you?”
“Oh yeah. He was popular and good at sports and always told me I wasn’t tough enough. He...” Evan clears his throat. “He constantly tried to toughen me up.”
“Oh. He was mean to you then?”
“Sometimes. He was a brother. And I liked school and books and ideas and couldn’t throw a ball to save my life.”
I’m an only child, so I’ve never had a brother. But I don’t like the sound of that answer. I also don’t like the resigned look in his eyes, as if he’s used to his brother not being good to him. So much so that he doesn’t expect anything else. He told me he was always lonely as a child, and my heart breaks for that smart, isolated little boy. “Are you... are you close now?”
“No.”
That tells me something I need to know. If his brother had grown up into a decent guy, Evan would make an effort to stay close to him. He’d taken the job in Milford so he could spend time with his sister. He’d do the same thing with his brother, unless there was some reason not to.
His brother isn’t a good guy.
He isn’t a friend to him.
He must have hurt Evan in the past.
He certainly taught Evan to hide
anything that could be taken as weakness—including his very kind heart. That’s probably why Evan is so reserved and uptight now. He’s learned to hide his real self.
I don’t like Evan’s brother although I know almost nothing about him.
I don’t like him at all.
“How much older is he than you?” I ask, trying to think of easy questions that won’t prompt Evan to close up.
“Three years.”
“And your sister is a lot younger than the two of you?”
“Yeah. She’s just seventeen. Thirteen years younger than me. She was a surprise baby for my folks.”
“Are you going out to see her this weekend?”
“For lunch on Saturday. I’ll be back to hang out for dinner if you’re available.” He gives me another one of those hot, soft looks I love.
I smile at him like a dope. “I’m available.”
I’ve put all my dating apps on hold. Even though Evan and I aren’t serious yet, it would feel wrong to go out with anyone else. And the truth is I don’t want to.
I don’t want to be with anyone but him.
I wonder if he feels the same way.
I wonder if it’s too soon to ask him about it.
THE FOLLOWING WEEK, we’re both in the office on a Thursday afternoon. I’ve been grading papers from my upper-level class most of the day, but I’ve managed to finish them, so I’m on that post-grading high. I’ve got the worst of my work done for the week. Now I just have to make it through classes tomorrow, and I’ll have another weekend with Evan.
At least that’s what I’m hoping. He has lunch with his sister on Saturday, but I’m hoping he’ll want to hang out with me for the rest of the time the way he did last weekend.
It might be nice if we were a surer thing. More than just a lot of sex.
Neither one of us has said anything yet, and that has felt fine to me because it was just at the beginning.
But it’s been more than a month now. We get together every single day.
We’re now beyond the beginning, and it might be nice to not have to wonder if he wants to spend the weekend with me.
It might also be nice for other people to know that we’re together so it doesn’t feel so much like a dirty secret.
Maybe I’ll say something. Ask him about it.
Maybe.
It takes a lot of courage to do something like that when guys are so often skittish about commitment. I know in theory that if a guy is reluctant to commit, then it’s probably best to just let him go.
But I don’t want to let Evan go.
I want to keep him.
And I don’t want to move too fast and pressure him unnecessarily.
It’s just been a month.
That’s not really very long.
It’s almost four in the afternoon, and I’m finalizing my lesson plans for tomorrow before I go home when Jennifer taps on the open office door and comes in.
“Hey,” I say with a smile, turning away from my computer. “What are you doing in these parts?”
“I needed to take a walk, and I wanted to know if you want to have dinner after work. Marcus has to work this evening, so we’re having an early dinner in Milford before his meeting. I thought maybe you’d want to join us.”
“Sure,” I say. “That sounds great.” I haven’t hung out with Jennifer as much as I used to because she spends so much time with Marcus and they live forty-five minutes outside Milford. So I’m happy about the invitation.
Jennifer looks over at Evan. “You could come too if you want. It will just be me, Marcus, and Beck.” It’s clear to me why she adds that last sentence. To reassure him that the only people at the meal will be those who already know about my relationship with him.
Evan looks surprised but smiles. “Oh. Thanks. But I don’t think so. I’ll probably work late.”
“Okay. No worries.” Jennifer shoots me a quick look, and I give her a wordless twitch of a shrug in response.
But this bothers me too. That Evan doesn’t want to hang out with my friends.
What kind of relationship does he think this is? Is it really just sex to him?
Jennifer doesn’t linger on the topic, which is a relief. She shifts her eyes to the framed posters on the wall. Then she says with exaggerated sentiment, “Oh Aragorn! My first and best boyfriend.”
I giggle. Even more when Evan turns back to the conversation with an arch of his eyebrows. “You don’t really want Aragorn, do you?” I ask Jennifer.
Her mouth drops open. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because he’s kind of... I don’t know... condescending.”
“He is not. He’s lofty, but he’s king, so he’s supposed to be. I do like him better as Strider, but still...” Jennifer looks over at Evan. “Beck can just never forgive him for rejecting Éowyn.”
“I have heard something along those lines when we watched the movies,” he says with a fond smile at me.
“Of course I don’t forgive him! He obviously has no taste in women at all. But it’s not just that. In the books I like him as Strider too, but he just gets too... too high at the end. Not human enough. And in the movies—well, in the movies he’s just like every other jerk of a guy I’ve gone out with. Leading Éowyn on—you can’t tell me all those soulful looks didn’t mean something—and then acting all skittish when she takes him seriously and patting her on the head and pretending he never gave her the wrong idea. It’s such a guy thing to do. Nope. Just don’t like him.”
Jennifer laughs, and Evan is smiling, but he’s also watching me closely.
It makes me a little self-conscious, and that makes me fluttery, which means I don’t guard my words as much as I should as the conversation continues.
Jennifer gives Evan a conspiratorial wink. “Beck has eyes for no one but Faramir.”
“That’s not true,” I object. “When I was a teenager, I was all into Legolas, of course. And lately I’ve been thinking that, well, maybe Gandalf has something going for him.”
That gets a laugh from both of them, as I intend.
“But you like Faramir the best?” Evan asks, his expression sobering.
“Yeah. Sure I do. Who wouldn’t? Think of poor Éowyn, quite unfairly rejected even though she killed the freaking Witch-king of Angmar and saved the day. The man she wants doesn’t want her. He wants some barely there elf chick instead. And here comes a really good guy who looks at her and sees everything he wants. He recognizes her for what she is. For all her worth and value and beauty. He sees it in her, and he wants nothing else. Of course he’s the best guy. If you’ve got to choose one of them for a boyfriend, he’s the one I’d choose.”
“Sam would be pretty good too,” Jennifer says, smiling although her eyes are deep as if she knows I’m in earnest.
“For sure. Sam would be a good boyfriend too. But no Aragorn for me, no matter how hot he looks with that sword.”
I suddenly realize that Evan’s in the room and he’s heard everything I’ve said.
I meant it. Everything. But maybe it reveals too much about my feelings.
Maybe he thinks I’m talking about him somehow.
I cover my nerves with a teasing question. “What about you, Evan? Who would be your girlfriend? And if you say anyone except Éowyn, I’ll forever doubt your judgment.”
He laughs, his face relaxed although his eyes never leave my face. “Éowyn for sure. For one thing, she’s the only woman in the books who feels fully human.”
That is a good response. An Evan-like response. I feel better about my ramblings and decide he hasn’t read anything into them he shouldn’t.
Jennifer confirms dinner with me and then leaves the office.
“You’d be more than welcome at dinner with us,” I say lightly after she’s gone.
Evan glances over. “No. It’s fine. No need to give people ammunition for gossip.”
Okay then. That makes it clear.
He still doesn’t want anyone to know about us, whi
ch means he’s nowhere close to being serious about me.
Better to know it now before I’m too far gone to pull myself out.
Seven
FOR THE NEXT WEEK, I dither around, trying to figure out what I should do.
Every time I’m on the verge of saying something to Evan, he acts particularly sweet and attentive, so I convince myself he really likes me after all and I’m unreasonable to expect too much too fast.
I’ve always been more decisive than this. I’ve always seen relationships clearly and known when to hope and when to pull out.
I’m not sure why Evan has gotten me all angsty. I should be able to approach this relationship the way I have all my other ones. Knowing what to do and not hesitating to do it.
But I don’t want to lose him unless I have to, and I’m not yet sure that I have to.
So I get through the next week in a state of fluttery emotion. Half the time I’m reveling at being with him, and half the time I’m terrified that he’s just having fun with me.
We haven’t even been together two months. It’s too soon to press the issue with him.
Isn’t it?
By the following Monday, I’m emotionally exhausted. I’m not going to make it much longer in this uncertain state, and the knowledge that a confrontation is coming makes me anxious.
Plus I have an enormous stack of essay exams to grade from my survey classes.
I feel grumpy all day. At three thirty, I’m sitting behind my desk trying to make some headway on grading, and I’m irrationally annoyed by Evan, who’s been nothing but nice all day.
How dare he look so calm and handsome and smart and sexy and content when I feel like I’m falling apart?
It’s just not right.
After a long stretch of silence, he pulls me out of the exam I’m trying to focus on by asking, “Are they really that bad?”
I blink and look over at him. “What?”
“The exams. Are they really that bad?”
“They’re about normal. Why?”
“Because you seem like you’re on the edge over there.” His eyes are as observant as ever, taking in my messy hair (which keeps slipping out of the clip I pulled it up with this morning), my worn-off makeup, and the thin cardigan I keep taking off and putting on over my sleeveless top.
