His for Now (His #2)

by Octavia Wildwood

  When I pulled into my parking stall on campus, I hopped out of my car and, with a quick look over my shoulder, yanked my pantyhose off. Hopping around on one foot, I nearly ended up doing a face plant right there on the asphalt, but I managed to catch myself at the last minute.

  That was good. I didn’t have time to pick gravel out of my hair. I was going to be late to teach my class as it was! It wasn’t exactly the kind of impression I wanted to make when my job performance was already under scrutiny. I couldn’t afford to make any missteps right now.

  Class was a blur. So were my office hours. I did a little research and marked some students’ papers but mostly spent my time straining to listen for Mark’s voice in the hallway. Working with one’s ex isn’t exactly a pleasant thing – and mine was trying to ruin my career. I didn’t want to see him. If I did I might not be able to resist the urge to wipe the permanent condescending smirk off his face with my fist.

  When it started getting dark outside, I decided it was time to go. My time spent with Hayden had taught me there was more to life than work, and even though he was very much out of my life, I was still making an effort to leave at a reasonable hour for the sake of my sanity.

  But when I got off the elevator on the first floor, I was surprised to find an event of some sort already in full progress. “Shit,” I muttered to myself when I took in the scene before me and realized what was going on. “The department fundraiser is tonight?”

  It just figured that a swanky wine and cheese event I was expected to attend was on the day when I’d put a gigantic run in my pantyhose, rendering them unwearable. To make matters worse, I couldn’t even remember when I’d last shaved my legs. Nice.

  I wanted to go home, but I was sure if I did Mark would find a way to bring it to our superiors’ attention. What an asshole. If he’d just put half as much effort into his own career as he did ruining mine or playing video games…well…

  Ugh, Mark. I realized with a start that he’d surely be in the vicinity. I scanned the room and located him on the far left side. That meant I’d be staying on the right side, as far away from him as possible.

  Thankfully, my side of the room happened to be where the food was. Maybe my luck wasn’t quite as atrocious as I’d initially thought. I wasn’t one of those women who refused to eat in public. Instead, I was one of those women who cram delicious hors d’oeuvres down their throats at every opportunity, because why not? Free food was one of the only things that made tedious networking functions bearable, as far as I was concerned.

  With a forced smile on my face, I made my way over to the wine and cheese table. My hope was to just hang out there for a bit – with my bare, slightly stubbly legs hidden from sight behind the white linen tablecloth. I’d shake a few hands, gush over the stinky cheese selection, pretend to be interested in other people’s boring stories and then make a hasty exit. Maybe I’d also down a few glasses of wine just for good measure.

  “I wondered if I’d see you here.”

  I turned around and stared blankly at an older gentleman wearing an expensive silk tie. I racked my brain trying to place him – was he a colleague? I didn’t think so, but he did look vaguely familiar, in a generic old man sort of way.

  He extended his hand. “Steve Martel,” he re-introduced himself, maybe sensing that I didn’t immediately recognize him. “We met at the party Henrik Slate threw out at the Whittaker mansion a few weeks back.”

  Ah, so that’s where I knew him from. “Nice to see you again,” I replied automatically. I remembered the way Steve had talked my ear off at that party, a friendly, pleasant older man who’d been every bit as content as me to loiter at the food table. I vaguely recalled that he was a colleague of Hayden’s father, working overseas to set up art galleries and museums.

  I also remembered the kinky sex games Hayden and I had played right beneath the noses of his father and all the other rich partygoers. I still couldn’t believe the things he’d talked me into doing…or how much I’d enjoyed doing them.

  That night had been a hot, steamy memory until Hayden had shown his true colors. Now it was yet another painful reminder of my poor judgment. I never should have let myself trust Hayden Slate, who clearly thought only about himself. The last thing I wanted was to think about him – I was doing too much of that already. But with Steve Martel standing in front of me oblivious and chatty, there was little I could do.

  “That was quite the party!” he chortled as he popped a chunk of cheese that smelled like a dirty foot into his mouth. “Mmm, you should try it,” he said, picking up the entire platter of the foul stuff and holding it out to me in offering.

  Barely managing to suppress my gag reflex, I managed to mumble, “I’m good, thanks.”

  “Hayden certainly appeared to be taken with you,” Steve observed, giving me a knowing smile. “Everyone was commenting on it. He’s not one to bring women to his father’s functions…in fact in all the years I’ve known the boy, I think you may have been the first girl he’s brought around. It seems you’ve really stolen his heart,” he said with a wink.

  “I uh…I don’t know about that.”

  “I’ve known that boy most of his life and I’ve never seen him look so happy,” Steve insisted. “He must really think you’re something special.”

  Steve wasn’t a bad person. He was simply a clueless man who seemed to have more fatherly affection for Hayden than Hayden’s own dad did. Under different circumstances, I may have enjoyed chatting with him – at least it was less tiresome than listening to a bunch of snooty professors try to outdo one another as they debated politics. But I simply couldn’t stand there and listen to Steve talk about Hayden Slate for a moment longer. It was like having salt rubbed in a very raw, very deep wound.

  “I, uh…I’m sorry,” I sputtered, backing away from the table hairy legs and all. “I have to go.”

  Pushing my way past a group of pretentious colleagues who were obnoxiously laughing at some inane joke, I made my way outside. Leaning against the rough stone exterior of the building, I inhaled the cool evening air greedily.

  I didn’t understand why Hayden had taken me to his father’s party. Steve had pretty much confirmed what Hayden had told me: it was unheard of for Hayden to do such a thing. Hayden was a love them and leave them type, or at least a fuck them and leave them type. So why had he made an exception for me?

  Somehow that hurt more than waking up in the morning to an empty bed would have. Why had he continued to string me along even after we’d slept together? Why had he forged an intimate, emotional connection with me?

  Part of me wanted to believe he was just a terrible human being who delighted in plunging figurative knives into women’s hearts. That, I could accept. But what had been eating away at me was the feeling I’d had when I was with him.

  We hadn’t just had sex. We’d talked. He’d listened attentively and seemed interested in my answers to his questions. After some gentle prying, he’d even opened up to me a little. I’d come to believe that despite his faults, he was a genuinely good person.

  It just didn’t fit. A good person wouldn’t have spoken to me the way Hayden had, or played with my feelings so heartlessly. By that logic, Hayden did not fit the definition of a good person. So that meant…what? Was my judgement truly that bad? Or was there more to what had happened than met the eye? Angrily, I cast those questions aside. They were, after all, questions I had no way of knowing the answers to. I didn’t want to devote another second to thinking about Hayden Slate.

  Suddenly I became all too aware that my feet were killing me. Most of my shoes were sensible, boring ones that one might expect an eighty year old lady to wear to church on Sunday. But on a whim, I’d bought a couple pairs that were feminine, stylish and sexy. Lately I’d taken to wearing what I liked to think of as my Fuck Me Shoes not because I was looking to get laid but because they gave me a confidence boost I desperately needed.

  But that wasn’t all they gave me. As it turned out, they also
gave me blisters and sore arches. Grumbling to myself under my breath, I hobbled over to a bench and angrily kicked my shoes off. Then, crossing my leg, I grabbed my left foot and started to massage my tender heel. The relief I felt was almost instantaneous. I shut my eyes and sighed contentedly as my fingers worked out the aches and pains.

  Unfortunately, my relief was short-lived.

  “I thought I saw you come out here.”

  My eyes flew open as Mark’s quiet, almost freakishly deep voice interrupted my thoughts. He was standing in front of me in his standard uniform: an open collared shirt beneath a tweed blazer and I’m-too-cool-for-dress-slacks jeans. It was a good thing he never wore a tie because I may have found myself tempted to strangle him with it.

  Without waiting for an invitation, he plunked down on the bench beside me. “We should talk.”

  “I don’t want to talk to you,” I replied tersely, slipping one shoe back on and fumbling around underneath the bench in an effort to locate the other one. “Actually, you’re the last person I want to talk to.”

  That wasn’t exactly true. Technically Mark was the second last person I wanted to talk to, the very last one being Hayden Slate. But Mark didn’t need to know that. “You’re the second last person I want to talk to” just doesn’t have the same ring to it.

  Unsurprisingly, Mark wasn’t deterred by the icy reception I gave him. He’d never been one to take me seriously or put me before himself. For the millionth time I wondered what I’d ever seen in him or why I’d flirted back when he’d started making eyes at me. All I could come up with was that, as my work colleague, he was just always there. Maybe sometimes there’s something to be said about availability.

  “I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry,” he said, catching me off guard.

  “Sorry for what?” I retorted. “There’s a long list of things you could be apologizing for, so you’re going to have to be more specific than that.” I wasn’t about to let him off the hook. He’d humiliated me for being a twenty-eight year old virgin, cost me a promotion that pretty much had my name written all over it and had even put my contract position with the college in jeopardy.

  “I’m sorry for all of it,” he told me. To my surprise he actually sounded sincere – it was the same tone of voice he used when discussing the merits of one video game over another. That was how I knew he meant business, because to him those damn video games were the pinnacle of his existence. “That night at my place when you told me you’d never had sex before…”

  I cringed. “Let’s not talk about that.” Where the hell was my shoe, anyway? It must have gotten kicked back underneath the bench because I couldn’t find it. That meant I had two options: walk away sans shoe or sit there and hear Mark out. Yes, I had two very lousy options.

  Ignoring my request, he said, “I was caught off guard. It’s weird to know that you’re practically thirty and have never even done the deed, okay? My first thought was ‘I wonder what’s wrong with her?’ But I could have been nicer about it. I’m sorry for making you feel awkward about being a virgin.”

  Struggling to maintain my composure, I took a deep breath. I wasn’t about to let his pathetic excuse for an apology get the best of me and I wasn’t going to let him know how mortified I was to be discussing this with him in the first place. “First of all,” I informed him sweetly, “Twenty-eight is not almost thirty. Secondly, not that it’s any of your business, but the virgin label no longer applies to me.”

  “What?” Mark asked as though he couldn’t believe it. “You got laid? Who is he?”

  It was my turn to ignore Mark. Continuing on, I informed him, “Actually, I should thank you.”

  “Thank me?” he repeated dumbly. “What did I do?”

  “You showed me your true colors before I did something stupid with you that I would have regretted,” I told him. “They say a girl always remembers her first time. I’m glad that when I look back on it, I won’t be reminded of you.”

  My throat felt tight as I said the last bit and my thoughts inevitably turned to Hayden. I wished I wouldn’t always be reminded of him when I remembered losing my virginity, but at least the sex had been good…great, actually. The undeniable chemistry Hayden and I had shared only made the whole experience – and its abrupt end – smart that much more.

  Mark was quiet for a moment. “I guess I deserved that,” he finally said.

  “Uh huh,” I nodded. But then my self-satisfied demeanor shattered. “Mark, why did you do it?” I demanded. “The day you sat in and observed my class, you saw how I was getting through to the students. But you lied on your evaluation and said I’m ineffective in the classroom. We both know that isn’t true.”

  “I saw you struggling to engage the students at the beginning,” he said defensively.

  “Are you kidding me?” I was dumbfounded. “They’re a bunch of chatty eighteen year olds,” I reminded him. “Yeah, it’s going to take some of them a few minutes to settle down, but the point is I got them interested in the discussion. I got them thinking, Mark. That’s the whole purpose of teaching.”

  “I don’t know about that. It’s a job,” he replied. “It’s not like any of the stuff we teach in Sociology actually matters in the real world. It’s all just a bunch of hypotheticals and definitions and abstract concepts. The students memorize stuff, parrot it back to us and we dole out grades. They get degrees and we get paychecks, everybody wins.”

  “You can’t possibly mean that.”

  “Huh?”

  “Teaching is more than just a job,” I insisted. “We’re shaping minds.”

  Mark laughed. “You really believe that nonsense? It’s kind of cute, I guess. But you need to lighten up, Daniella. That’s what I’ve been telling you all along. I’ve seen how hard you work. You’re always on campus working late, offering your students tutoring outside of your office hours…you’re going to burn out.”

  What would Mark even know about burning out? He was too busy playing video games and stabbing me in the back to work hard. And something about the tone of voice he was using was incredibly condescending, like he somehow knew better than I did. It was downright insulting.

  “I’m fine,” I insisted.

  “You are now, yes. I’ve been watching you,” he told me. “You seem different lately…happier. These days you occasionally even leave work before I do!”

  Deep down I knew Mark was right: I had been happier. But it wasn’t because of anything work-related and for Mark to try to take the credit was laughable. It was because of Hayden. For a brief time, being with the mysterious heir had awakened something inside of me. When I’d left work at a reasonable hour, it had been so I could spend time with him. And yes, for a time I’d been walking on air, so to speak.

  Then I’d unceremoniously come crashing back to earth.

  Since I wasn’t sure I could trust my voice, I didn’t reply.

  “I bet you feel a lot better now that the promotion is off the table,” he predicted. “If I know you – and I do – you were working yourself half to death just to try to climb the corporate ladder.” His voice earnest and husky, Mark informed me, “It was only a matter of time…you were going to fall, Daniella.”

  How was I supposed to respond to that? I would have liked to respond with my fist but I thought better of it. Instead, I slipped the shoe I’d finally managed to locate back on as I entertained thoughts of beating Mark over his big stupid head with it.

  “I can help you,” he offered generously. “I can put in a good word with Clancy at our next poker game and make sure the department renews your contract next year. It’s what any good friend would do.” He paused and I saw him look at me in the moonlight. “Although I’d be willing to be more than friends again,” he said, suddenly putting his hand on my knee.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I hissed, jerking my leg away like I’d been burned.

  He chuckled. “I never took you for the type to go au natural but I have to say I’m digging it. What
do you say, Daniella? Let’s cut out of here early. We can go back to my place.” In what I suspected was supposed to be a seductive voice, he suggested, “I can teach you anything you want to know.”

  Abruptly, I stood up. Hands on my hips, I glowered down at him with contempt. He was such a clueless moron that he didn’t even seem to realize how insulting he was being. It was as though he thought I’d buy his good guy act and fall back into his arms, thanking him profusely for sparing me a life of career-related stress. On top of all that, now that he knew someone else had found me desirable, he suddenly wanted me again. What a dick.

  “Please don’t fool yourself into thinking you saved me from professional burnout,” I told him, my words deliberate and staccato. “You wouldn’t know professional burnout if it bit you in the ass, Mark, because you don’t even know the meaning of the word professional. It’s sad, really, that you felt compelled to sabotage my career prospects to get ahead. It’s pretty pathetic that you’re so threatened by me. I don’t need your help to get ahead and I certainly don’t want you to ‘teach’ me anything. You’re reprehensible. It will catch up with you one day.”

  I heard him inhale sharply and then he climbed to his feet, arms crossed.

  “You’ve always been so high and mighty about all the time and energy you put into your work,” he spat. “You could chain yourself to your desk and it wouldn’t matter. I’m the one with the contacts in the department, not you. In the end, that’s all that matters. It’s what secures promotions. You should be thanking me for bringing it to your attention early on before you waste what’s left of your youth on a pipe dream.”

  “Fuck you!” I shouted after him as he walked back inside. In retrospect that wasn’t the most eloquent or clever response I could have come up with, but at the time those were the two words that came to mind. And it felt pretty good to say them.