She walked away, leaving him to sit and think about what she said. In the old days, the news would have panicked him: Ani was a clinger. She wanted a relationship. He was jumping through hoops and she’d expect him to stay around.
But he didn’t feel panic. If anything, he felt… that contentment, that happiness, bubbling to the surface.
Now, he just had to pray that Tessa was right: that Ani was invested. And he was going to keep her that way.
Another week down. Another week where she’d barely had time to work on her proposal defense, she thought.
“Finally,” Ani said with a sigh as the last set of experiments were completed for the day. All her chores were taken care of, all the grading (and re-grading) was finished. She felt like a fairy-tale princess who had finally gotten the long list of chores from the evil stepmother done. She couldn’t believe it.
Abraham was supposed to see her, bring by dinner with the idea of maybe spending a bit more time together. This was still confusing for her, but she knew that he’d been persistent, and she was tired of holding out, especially when he was being so supportive. If he was just in it for the sex, would he really have done the dishes and taken out the trash and done her laundry? Brought her something to eat in the lab or the TA room almost every night? Was he just pretending to be a nice guy, lulling her into a false confidence so she’d give it up? He didn’t seem the type, and it wasn’t like she was putting up huge barriers. He could get sex from just about anywhere. Why would he wait? He’d already had her, as it were. And yeah, she’d thought the sex was off the charts. But would he just stay in it for the sex, do all this just to have another go at her?
Did he really want a relationship?
And how long would he want to keep going?
“Hey Ani,” Jeffrey’s voice chimed in, too cheerful. “Did you finish that grading?”
Startled out of her reverie, she stared at Jeffrey for a second.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your daydreaming,” he said, sarcasm evident. “But Dr. Peterson wanted me to check on your progress.”
“I finished everything,” she said, keeping her voice casual even as she felt the desire to clench her teeth. “I was just going to pack up for the day.”
“Really?” One of his blond eyebrows went up, and he checked a list he was holding. “You finished cleaning out the oil pump?”
“Yes.”
“The equipment...”
“Cleaned the autoclave” — again, she thought with resentment — “the blender, the glassware.”
“The experiments he asked...”
“Done.” She knew she shouldn’t be cutting him off, because he’d no doubt express her rudeness to Dr. Peterson, but she couldn’t help but feel a bubble of pride and, yeah, smugness.
He pursed his lips. “Well. I suppose you’re done for the night, then,” he said, with an offhand gesture. Like he was her boss or something, not a fellow teaching assistant. She gritted her teeth.
“He doesn’t have any other experiments for me,” she said. “I’ve got everything checked off, and the grading’s complete. As is the re-grading.”
He glowered at her. “If it had been done properly the first time, Dr. Peterson wouldn’t have had to issue that edict, I’m sure.”
She wanted to glower back at him, since it had been just as she expected: a waste of time. The stuff she regraded had wound up exactly as it had been the first time. Still, she knew that she only had a few weeks to her proposal.
“I am spending the weekend working on my proposal,” she said.
“Ah, yes. About that.” He looked at his list again. “Dr. Peterson said that he’d been trying to reach you but hadn’t been able to. The board’s had to change schedule, so they’ve moved your proposal defense ahead by two weeks.”
Her jaw dropped. “Two weeks? That’s only two weeks away!”
“You should be far enough along that this doesn’t present a hardship,” Jeffrey said, although she swore she saw him flush. Obviously Dr. Peterson was having Jeffrey be the fall guy on this shitty announcement, and even if Jeffrey liked having someone else do his grading, this kind of hatchet job was unfair and unpleasant. “Dr. Peterson said most people in your position would be done. This was a decision by the advisory board. If you have problems, you could bring it up with them — although Dr. Peterson mentioned that he didn’t know whether they would think that your pursuing this avenue of research is a good idea if you do.”
She felt tears pricking at her eyes. She wanted to scream.
Dr. Peterson had pulled this off, somehow. What she’d suspected, she now knew for a fact. He’d done passive interference, throwing crap work her way, doing the regrading, taking up as much time as possible with stupid experiments that he didn’t really need. Now he was actively on the offensive. He was trying to boot her out of the program.
“You’re not going to cry, are you?” He said, his voice tinged with distaste. “I honestly hate it when women cry, and they seem to do it all the time. It’s not appropriate. This isn’t personal, it’s simply science. Crying and getting emotional is not going to sway my decision, and it doesn’t change anything.” He cleared his throat. “Also, um, Dr. Peterson told me to tell him if you did.”
She’d rip her own arms off before she let him see her cry, she thought, willing herself to keep the tears at bay.
There was a knock, and the door to the lab opened. “Hey, I brought that pad Thai with fried tofu you like,” Abraham said without preamble, then stopped in his tracks, taking in the scene in front of him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
He’d been bringing by food the past week, not staying long, not doing anything inappropriate — as in, not making her come on a countertop or destroying anything expensive. But he’d sent her some smoldering looks, and kissed her into oblivion, before simply walking away and leaving her to her work. It was stuff that had kept her up late and reduced the battery life in her vibrator when she got home. It was as if he were proving to her that he was here for the long term. Other than teasing her about falling asleep after sex “just like a guy” he’d been caring, supportive, and basically perfect.
Jeffrey’s expression was derisive. “Are you supposed to be here?” Then he looked at Ani. “Is this someone you know? Or is he just a delivery boy?”
Abraham drew himself up to his full six foot three. The delivery boy comment was going over well, obviously.
“I’m here to see my girl,” Abraham said, his tone cold. “And bring her dinner.”
“Your girl.” Jeffrey looked at Ani. “Strangers and non-students are not allowed in the lab.”
“He brings me dinner,” she said. “And there’s no policy that specifically....”
“I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re breaking rules,” Jeffrey said with disgust.
She tilted her head and studied Jeffrey for a second. His tone was a little…
Oh shit. He can’t be jealous.
She sighed. It never occurred to her that Jeffrey had a thing for her, especially given his behavior. But now he was acting pissy. Like she needed another man aggravated with her and causing her problems.
“You can’t stay,” Jeffrey said sharply to Abraham. “Drop off your food and leave.”
Abraham’s expression was both amused and vicious as he leaned back against a counter, crossing his arms so the muscles bulged beneath the t-shirt. “Or what?”
Jeffrey goggled, his mouth working like a fish on a boat bottom. “What do you mean, or what?”
“If I hang out here while she’s eating, what’s going to happen to me? And who’s going to enforce that?” He gave Jeffrey a once-over. “You gonna throw down with me, Pipe Cleaner?”
Now Jeffrey backed up and hit She all but dragged Abraham out of the lab. “Who was that asshole?” Abraham said. “And why was he treating you like shit, and calling me stupid? I’m ready to beat some fucking manners into that guy.”
“Don’t,” she said quickly, dropping
her voice. “He’s Dr. Peterson’s favorite, and they’ll just find some way to turn it back on me anyway.”
“This is all such bullshit,” Abraham pointed out, sounding incensed. “This Peterson guy gives you all this shit work, while his favorite gets to dump his grading on you. Tell me this isn’t just some way of keeping you from doing your own stuff.”
She blinked. She’d complained a little about her position, just blowing off steam while she ate and while Abraham hung out. But she hadn’t realized he’d been listening and retaining it.
“I will say this: he’s right. Long hours, stupid experiments, repetitious stuff... that can be grad school,” she said, with a sigh. “It’s not all exciting research and new discoveries. There’s a lot of bonehead stuff. But it is what it is.”
Abraham still looked mulish. “You’re not coming in to work tomorrow, are you?”
“No,” she said. “And thank God. I have to work on my proposal defense. That... “ She bit back on the term dickhead, since he might still be lurking the hallways, “... guy just told me that my proposal is due two weeks earlier than I expected. I’m pretty far along, but I wanted to make sure it was perfect, so this weekend will be focused on that.”
“Do you have to work on it tonight?” He said. “Or can you take a break?”
She thought about it. She ought to work on it. She really should. But between the confrontation with Jeffrey, she felt like her shoulder blades were fused together. Her brain felt like mush and her muscles were ready to explode. She needed the stress relief.
Oh, just be honest. It’s not just sex. You want to spend time with Abraham. And that was a dangerous realization.
“I could take tonight,” she admitted softly. “Off, I mean.”
He stood straighter. “Let’s eat this at my place, then.”
There was a moment of silence as the invitation sat there. She thought about it. She didn’t know what this meant in their relationship — if they had one. If it would change things. She didn’t know.
But right now, she didn’t care.
“Okay,” she said. “You drive, I’ll follow you in my car.”
Chapter 9
Abraham was feeling a combination of anxious and excited when he headed back to his house with the Thai take-out on the front seat. It seemed like he was forever feeding the girl who still looked like a willow no matter how much food she chowed down on. She probably worried it off, he thought with a grin. The grin faded as he thought about the exchange with that blond guy, Jeffrey. Of course, with the assholes in her life, especially the ones gunning for her career, she did have a lot to worry about.
He wished he could’ve smacked the smug out of that fucker. But she was right: they would’ve found some way to make her pay for it, and he was doing everything he could to make her life easier at this point.
He shook his head at himself. He was acting like a chick, he thought, then thought of Tessa’s dressing-down. Yeah, that was sexist. But he certainly wasn’t acting like the manly figure his father had emphasized and the military had codified. He didn’t just want to be Ani’s booty call and stress relief. She was smart. She was fun. Yeah, she was sexy as hell, but she was also loyal and brilliant and didn’t take his shit. She wasn’t cowed by him, and he had grown men who were skittish around him. He respected the hell out of Ani, and he wanted to see how far they could go.
Other than his admittedly dysfunctional relationships in the past, where his girlfriends cheated on him or started drama and insisted on grand displays or crazy hysterics, Ani had her own life, one that didn’t rely on causing explosions and then picking up the pieces. Ani didn’t have time for that shit, nor would she be interested if she did have time. Ani was what he should’ve been looking for all along.
So he wasn’t going to let her just leap on him tonight.
His body protested immediately. Hey! We like leaping!
All right, he allowed. He wasn’t just going to let her leap on him right from the jump. They were going to have a talk first, maybe over the food. He wanted to find out where she thought their relationship was going. It had hurt, the first time they were together, for her to say that she was ashamed of being with him. His father had pointed out that women like her never thought that guys like him were good enough. Was she still ashamed of him? Did she still feel that way?
His parked his car in his driveway and grabbed the take-out bag as Ani parked behind him. God damn it. Was he setting himself up to fail?
Too late now, he thought, as Ani walked up to him.
“You know, I’ve never seen your house,” she said. She was wearing a T-shirt that was a swirl of yellow and orange and a pair of jeans, her hair in a French braid. He’d been so pissed at Jeffrey and the whole situation at the lab he hadn’t even paid attention to her. That, he thought, was stupid.
“You look beautiful,” he said, then winced. He meant it, but damn it, he usually had more finesse than this. And he didn’t usually sound like such a dork.
Still, the comment surprised her and must’ve pleased her, since she blushed a little.
He unlocked the front door, then brought her inside, looking it over. He hadn’t expected company, so he was glad that it wasn’t a complete mess. He looked at it with fresh eyes, imagining what she might be feeling. He had a gaming chair and his gaming computer out on a desk, as well as his console and his big screen TV with surround sound. There was also the big micro-suede sofa with a stain from when Fezza had dropped soda on it. The dining table was clear, at least.
“I love Arts and Crafts bungalows,” she breathed, looking around, her fingers tracing the molding along the doors and the chair rail. “You own this place?”
He nodded.
She smiled at him. “You’re such a grown-up.”
He smiled back. “You hungry?”
“You don’t have to keep bringing me take-out, you know,” she said, as he put the food down on the dining room table. “I feel badly.”
“It’s a habit now,” he said, walking in and handing the bag to her as he closed the door. “Besides, I like feeding you.” I like providing for you, his brain supplied. He squelched a sigh at himself.
Her eyes were hungry, but the hunger had nothing to do with food, since she made no move for the take-out bags. Her gaze traced over him, lingering. “Did I ever tell you about the ‘sensual feast’? The one at Erotic City?” she said. “It was mostly silly, but there were a few inventive ideas that I wouldn’t mind trying with you.”
All his blood rushed down south to second brain, and he swallowed hard. “Oh?” he said, his voice strangled to his own ears.
“Yeah.” She started to tug him to the bedroom. “But let’s start with an appetizer, get our...”
“Whoa. Wait,” he said, determined, even though his brain was screaming at him for his stupidity. “I want to know: what are we doing here?”
She blinked. “We’re... seriously? You don’t know?”
“No. I mean, I know what we’re about to do,” he said, rolling his eyes. “But is that all this is? Is it just sex?”
She pulled away, and he felt it like an ice wall between them. “I’m sorry. Are you asking what my intentions are?”
He crossed his arms, even as his cock felt like a lead pipe in his jeans. “I guess I am. I mean, I don’t mind being a booty call, but... well, shit. With you, I do.”
“You do what?”
“Mind being a booty call,” he said. “You’re smart, and awesome, and hotter than hell. And I want to know I’m more than just some guy that you call up for a quick stress break.”
She sighed. “I don’t know.”
His eyes widened. “You don’t know?”
She bit her lip. “I really like you. More than I expected to,” she said.
He felt his stomach turn to ice, and his cock flagged a bit. “Thanks,” he drawled, the sting of her words slapping at him.
“No.” She walked over to him, stroking his face with her hand, and he forced hims
elf not to pull away. “I mean, I started caring about you despite not wanting to. You’re not my usual type, at all.”
“You’re not my usual type, either.”
“And despite my initial impressions of you — I guess that’s not a bad thing.”
He frowned, unsure of what she meant.
“You’re grumpy, and you still have some toxic masculinity issues,” she said. “But you also put yourself out for me. You bring me food, you give me support, without making expectations or anything as a result. You want to be seen as more. You’re not what I expected.”
“You’re not what I expected, either,” he grumbled.
“I care about you,” she repeated. “And I know I’m not in a good place right now. All my energy, all my focus, is on getting through this proposal defense. I just want to prove to myself and to my family that I can do this, you know? Does that make sense? Until that’s done, I don’t think I can focus on anything else. So can we make a more permanent decision after that?”
“No,” he said, nudging her. “If I did that to you, if I said that I had something else that was more important, and could we put what we’ve got on the table until... I don’t know, until my game was done or something, you’d kick my ass. And you’d be right to. Because that’s not how relationships work.”
She looked down, then took a deep breath. “You’re right,” she whispered. “If you did, I’d kick your ass.”
He couldn’t help himself. He grinned. “So, what are we doing here?”
She waited an interminably long minute, and he felt himself slowly going mad.
Then she spoke.
“I... I guess I’m all in on this,” she said, nodding slowly. “But please — please, don’t hurt me, okay? Because this scares the hell out of me.”
“Believe it or not, it scares the hell out of me, too,” he admitted, then swept her up into his arms and headed for the bedroom. “But let’s be scared together.”
She felt light-headed as Abraham carried her from the living room to the bedroom. She’d been so careful to keep him a secret from the people she cared about. Maybe that was unfair of her. Her parents would grill her mercilessly about him. Tessa would be shocked about him, more than likely; she might like him as a boss, now that he’d finally seen her abilities, but at the same time, Tessa knew about his chauvinistic tendencies.
What Happens at Con Page 13
