Euphemism of the year.
There could be no denying the hard evidence that Daniel had enjoyed the exchange as much as I had. However, he’d been drunk and was probably horrified once he was in his right mind again and realized that his carefully crafted impartial persona had been completely blown out of the water. As I crossed Queen’s Park shortly after eleven thirty, it occurred to me that I was actually looking forward to watching him squirm. Who knew I had such a sadistic streak?
Julie and I sat in our usual seats in the second row, but I wished we were back on the other side across from the front table so that I’d have a clear view of Daniel trying to hold it together. But this wasn’t something I could share with Julie, so we remained in our seats by the door.
The class was smaller than usual. Several regulars were conspicuously absent, perhaps needing a vacation from their vacation. Julie could have joined the ones who were dozing. She was tanned and full of exuberant stories about her week, but she was bagged.
When Professor Brown arrived, he was alone. He explained that Daniel wouldn’t be joining us and that his Monday tutorial would be canceled since his TA was feeling a little under the weather.
Julie pouted at me, but I shrugged and whispered, “Maybe you’ll actually be able to concentrate today.” I poked her in the side playfully. My hypocrisy was laughable.
I tried to remain chipper throughout the lecture, but behind my cheerful façade, I was glum. While I knew there would be no public acknowledgment of what had happened between Daniel and me on Saturday, I still wished we could exchange a secret smile or knowing glance, some small, silent sign to tell me he didn’t entirely regret the whole incident. He could hardly deny the chemistry that seemed to be developing between us.
Or could he?
I was also waffling about what to do about Jeremy. Something told me I’d better talk to Daniel first before playing matchmaker between his brother and Julie, so I kept my phone zipped securely in my pocket.
Julie and I left the University College building together after class, but then we went our separate ways. I’d already decided I wanted to make good on my passing comment about visiting the Gardiner Museum, using one of Gwen’s tickets which I’d tucked safely in my backpack. I headed straight to the museum where I presented my complimentary ticket and checked my backpack and jacket. I picked up the current guides to the collection, noting the location of the new exhibit that Gwen had been so enthused about on the weekend.
First, however, I wanted to visit my favorite exhibit: the ceramics featuring the Commedia dell’Arte. I made my way to the second floor where the glassed cabinets housing the sculptures of the Italian sixteenth-century street theater scenes were kept. Starting at the beginning of the exhibit, I moved slowly from one display to another, admiring the detail and delicate artistry depicted on the pieces. It was so quiet in the room that I found myself tiptoeing between the displays, as if I might disturb the inert figures on the sculptures if I stepped too loudly.
The silence was broken by a voice behind me.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?”
I jumped and spun around, startled. “Daniel! What are you doing here? How did you know I was here? I thought you were sick.”
“Hmm. Little white lie, I’m afraid,” he said grimly as he walked toward me. “As for what I’m doing here, I was hoping when you told my mother you might come here today after class, you weren’t blowing smoke or trying to impress her. I waited outside at one o’clock, hoping to see you.”
I gestured around the room. “Well, here I am. What’s going on?” I took in his appearance. He seemed tired, but he didn’t look ill. In fact, he looked delicious.
“Here, come and sit.” He led me to a brown leather bench at the side of the room. “We need to talk. Properly. No mind games and smartass comments.”
Well, can I get an amen!
I held up my hands in a show of surrender.
A group of four impeccably dressed middle-aged women with matching blond hairdos entered the gallery hall. Daniel nodded at them politely, then pulled his mouth into a tight line.
“Would you be interested in going down to the gallery restaurant to grab a cup of coffee? My treat?”
“That sounds perfect.” My heart soared.
I didn’t know exactly where this was going, but his demeanor was stripped of its usual bravado and officiousness, and I felt as if I were standing on the brink of a life-altering moment. Daniel led me downstairs to the restaurant, which was clean and spare in its décor; the most impressive feature was the floor-to-ceiling windows spanning three sides of the room.
The host greeted Daniel warmly, shaking his hand. “Mr. Grant, what a pleasure it is to see you. How’s your mother?”
“Gwen’s well, Michael, thank you. I’d like that table over there by the window, please,” he said, his tone confident and commanding.
Just like Dream Daniel, I thought gleefully.
“Of course. Janine will take you to your table. Please pass along my best wishes to your parents.”
Daniel nodded, and a young woman led us over to the west-facing window. She was about to hand us menus, but he stopped her with a raised hand. “We’ll just be having coffee, thank you. Unless you wanted to take a look?” he asked me.
“No, a coffee will be fine.”
Daniel sighed deeply, leaned back in his chair, and rested his hands on his thighs.
Oh, that I were his hands to rest upon those jeans, that I might touch those thighs! I offered up silent kudos to Master Shakespeare’s brilliance. Similar words uttered by Romeo and Juliet in the thrall of their fascination with each other were beginning to make a hell of a lot more sense.
“I don’t know where to begin,” he confessed.
“Well, how about starting with why you missed class and tutorial today? I don’t know how you’re feeling, but you look pretty good,” I prompted.
“I guess that’s as good a place as any,” he said, rubbing his chin. “In all honesty, I don’t think I could have faced you in that room. My behavior on Saturday was deplorable.”
The waitress arrived with our coffees, and we both sat back as she placed the cups on the table and returned to the bar.
“I think you’re overreacting,” I said. “I had an awesome time. Your family is great. They made me feel so at home.”
“I’m glad you like them. That being said, it’s pretty clear what my father’s hidden agenda was in bringing you over for dinner. My mother quickly got drawn into the plot. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
So Dean Grant had invited me over as a prospective suitor for his son, to parade me in front of his wife and seek her approval.
“My father had no idea I’d be there. My plans fell through at the last minute. But you know that,” he said, obviously referring to the powder room eavesdropping debacle. “And since you so kindly took my advice about not telling my father you’re in Professor Brown’s class, he had absolutely no inkling of the prior relationship between us. But you know that, too.”
“You don’t need to rehash all this, Daniel. It’s not a big deal. I explained to your father that I won’t tell anyone what happened,” I assured him. “And you certainly didn’t need to come all the way here to do damage control and bribe me with coffee. I know all about anti-fraternizing rules. You don’t have to worry about me compromising your position.”
Speaking of compromising positions, I was beginning to wonder if he even remembered his little snooker lesson, but I certainly wasn’t about to bring it up.
“What I feel particularly compelled to apologize for is the inappropriateness of my behavior after dinner,” he said contritely.
Ah, so he does remember.
“I don’t know. I thought it was pretty amazing,” I said, smiling a little cheekily.
“I thought we agreed—no games,” he said firmly. “I’m trying to be serious here.”
I looked directly into his eyes. “So am I.” There was no hint of hum
or in my voice this time.
Daniel gazed at me for a moment. “I’m sure my actions on Saturday took you by surprise,” he said at last.
“A little. You’d been drinking. I figured—”
He shook his head, cutting me off with a look. “My inhibitions may have been lowered, but I would never use alcohol as a way to justify inappropriate behavior. I knew what I was doing.”
“Oh.” What was he trying to say?
“And what I was doing was inappropriate, Aubrey. I’m your TA.”
Aubrey. What had happened to “Miss Price”? Not that I was complaining.
“It didn’t feel inappropriate. I thought it was pretty wonderful.”
I wanted to say more, wanted to spill all of my feelings for him, but without some clear indication of his feelings for me it, seemed unwise to continue.
He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, glancing down at my hands which were clasped on the table, my knuckles turning white as I squeezed my fingers together.
“I do like you, Aubrey,” he said.
“I like you, too.” I was tempted to laugh at how poorly these insipid words represented my feelings.
“I don’t think you understand.” He swallowed and looked around hesitantly. “I really like you. I shouldn’t like you the way I do. It’s wrong, and I know it’s wrong, but I can’t seem to help myself.”
Before the angels had made it to the end of the first bar of the Hallelujah chorus, I took a quick breath and leapt in head first. “Does it make me a horrible person if I say I don’t care if it’s wrong?”
A myriad of emotions crossed his face, relief chief among them. “Then I guess we’re both horrible people,” he whispered. He unclasped his hands and moved one of them to rest in the middle of the table. I did the same, stretching my fingers toward his. Although our hands were barely touching, my whole body warmed in response to the slight meeting of our fingertips. Any doubt about his feelings for me was obliterated. I hoped he understood that my feelings matched his own.
He quickly withdrew his hand, and I followed suit.
“My father is dean of students at Vic,” he said. “The ramifications of this—” he gestured in the air between us “—Aubrey, if I get in trouble, his name would be forever tainted.”
“I would never do anything to hurt you or your family, Daniel,” I told him. “You can trust me one hundred percent.”
“I know that,” he said. “My father speaks so highly of you. We talked on the phone yesterday, and he told me you understood Saturday’s dinner was an event that wouldn’t be repeated, at least not while we’re in this current academic situation. He assured me you wouldn’t breathe a word of it to anyone. Professor Brown sings your praises highly too, you know. He’s very fond of you.”
“That’s nice to hear,” I said. “He gave me a fantastic reference when I applied for the job at Vic.”
“It’s obvious that his commendations of you are well-founded.”
As he looked at me, his face openly betrayed what his heart was feeling. The wall, the bravado, the persona—it was all gone, reduced to rubble at our feet.
“I’d love to spend more time with you and get to know you better, Aubrey.”
“I’d like that too,” I said, my voice emerging all breathy and whispery.
Either he didn’t notice or didn’t care. He leaned forward, lowering his tone to match mine.
“I have to be careful. We both do. This position is important to me, and I can’t screw up. It’s a requirement to complete a certain number of classroom hours. You know I can’t treat you differently because I like you. It’s already hard to be impartial, and it won’t get any easier now that you’re aware of my feelings.”
“For what it’s worth, I think you’ve done an incredible job in tutorials,” I said, eager to set his mind at ease. “You’ve been professional but friendly with everyone and completely unbiased, at least from what I can see. And there are some challenging characters in this class,” I added, thinking of Cara.
He smiled my favorite one-dimpled smile. “‘The wheel may be turning but the hamster is dead’? Best. Line. Ever. Bar none,” he said.
“You saw that?” I laughed self-consciously.
“The fine art of upside-down reading is my specialty. By the way, that tutorial will go down in history as one of the most simultaneously stimulating and difficult hours of my life.”
“Well, suffice it to say that the person we are discussing, who shall remain nameless, has been getting on my fucking nerves for three—count ’em—three, long years. I figure if you’re going to be that obsequious, you should at least know what the hell the damn word means.” I rolled my eyes.
Daniel laughed heartily. “You know what I love about you?” he asked. “You can go from cussing sailor to poet laureate in three seconds without batting an eyelash. It’s quite impressive.”
My heart lurched. How I wished I could give him the opportunity to love other parts of me—parts with skin. I sighed rather loudly just thinking about it.
“Well, I’d love to sit here all day because there’s so much I want to talk to you about, but I have to meet Jeremy to pick up my car.”
I didn’t want to leave. I could have sat there all afternoon, staring into his eyes, but Daniel was already on the move. He paid and we left the restaurant. I collected my bag and coat from the front lobby, jamming my gloves into my pockets as we emerged into the bright afternoon sunshine.
“Mind if I walk you back over to Jackman?” he asked.
“You shouldn’t. I mean, you don’t have to,” I said.
“I want to. I still have a few minutes before I have to meet Jer. Besides, I don’t think it’s a crime for us to walk down the street together.”
“All right, if you think it’s okay,” I said with a small smile.
As we turned the corner onto Charles Street, he looked at me with his eyes narrowed. “So, now that you know how I feel about you, am I going to have to kill you?” he asked, a false tone of menace creeping into his voice.
“Actually, say the magic word, and I’ll be as silent as the grave,” I whispered.
“Fencepost?” he asked, raising one eyebrow.
“That’s the one.”
“Honestly, Aubrey, even the fencepost is going to have to be out of the loop on this one.” His plaintive expression made my heart hurt.
“Deal,” I said, but the thought pained me. I wished I could share my feelings with someone—Julie in particular. “What’s going to happen with Jeremy and Julie?” I asked. “He sounded so desperate to hook up with her.”
“Did you give her his number?”
“Not yet. I didn’t want to say anything before talking to you.”
“Thank you for that. I’m glad you haven’t mentioned it. I told Jeremy everything yesterday—about how she’s in the class as well. I feel bad for him, but I’m not sure what to do. Can you let me think about it?”
I nodded. I guess it was natural for him to feel anxious about more complications. “So, now what?”
We both stopped walking and faced each other. He thrust his hands in his pockets. “When is the final exam for this course?”
“April thirtieth.”
“That’s about nine weeks. Then I’ll have to mark my share of the exams. That’ll take a few days. Professor Brown will review them and submit marks to the department. Once the marks are uploaded and accepted, my official duties will come to an end. I guess we need to bide our time.”
He looked at me intently, and I nodded in agreement. He smiled, the dimple making an appearance, his eyes wrinkling at the corners.
God, this was too much! Had he actually told me he was interested in pursuing a real relationship with me? My throat was thick with emotion. I swallowed furiously.
We reached my building, and I pulled my keys from my pocket, entering the lobby ahead of him. As much as I wanted to drag him upstairs, taste his lips, run my hands though his hair, and have a clothing-optional
repeat performance of the crotch-ass rub, we couldn’t. I was determined to prove to him how prepared I was to meet his terms.
“So, I’ll see you on Wednesday? In class, of course,” I added.
“Absolutely, Miss Price,” he said. Then he leaned forward and whispered, “I look forward to it, Aubrey,” before heading out the door.
He walked out to the sidewalk with a spring in his step I was sure hadn’t been there earlier. I tried to take a deep breath, but I couldn’t fill my lungs properly. Was I hyperventilating? Dropping my bag on the floor, I leaned against the mailboxes, sliding down the wall until I was sitting on the floor, legs bent up in front of me. I clasped my arms around them and rested my head on my knees.
To my surprise, tears welled up behind my eyes. I was overwhelmed by the events of the day—by Daniel’s admission and by the mutual agreement we’d reached about the future course of our relationship. Suddenly the door swung open again, and Daniel was standing in front of me, watching me sob quietly against my knees.
“What the hell happened? Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I answered, trying to smile while sniffing and wiping at my eyes with the back of my hand. “A bit much to absorb in one day, you know? Why did you come back?”
Please say, I had to kiss you just once before I left.
“Is this yours?” he asked, crouching in front of me, dangling a glove in his outstretched hand. I put my hand into my now-empty pocket.
“Crap. I must have dropped it when I took my keys out. Thanks,” I said, smiling abashedly.
Apparently there would be no kissing. Not today. Not for weeks. Oh, Jesus! I can’t do this. His eyes drifted across my face.
“This isn’t going to be easy, is it?” he asked.
“Hell, no.” I looked from his eyes to his gorgeous lips and then back to his eyes. “‘I am as poor as Job, my lord, but not so patient,’” I said, exhaling a shaky breath.
Daniel gently tipped my chin up with his fingers. “He’s a wise one, that Falstaff,” he said. “How about this for a rebuttal? ‘How poor are they that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees?’”
“Touché.”
The Weight of Words (The WORDS Series) Page 15
