A Dance for Him (20 page)

So here I am, stuck at this conference that everyone is only at because that’s what we do, we academics, isn’t it.

And by “what we do” I mean read aloud in public pre-published papers that anyone could easily read at home in their armchair, while the audience asks questions that somehow shoehorn in whatever they’re working on, regardless of whether or not it’s actually relevant to the paper at hand, just so they can look like they said
something
.

Oh all right, I am maybe being a bit unfair, I think there are possibly all of two people here who are really into all this, as opposed to seeing this just as a networking opportunity.

“Hi, Sebastian!”

Oh God, it’s one of the networkers.

“Hi Tracy. How are you, good to see you.”

“It’s been such a long time since the last time I saw you at the MLA! How have you been? By the way I heard that Maggie just got married to Peter in April, I’m sorry to hear about that.”

Maggie’s my ex - we were all in graduate school together, Maggie, Peter, Tracy and me.

“Oh, you needn’t be, seriously. It’s been well over a year since we broke up.”

“Well, that’s good then. Let me know if you want to catch up over a drink sometime. I’ll be in town till Wednesday morning.”

And she sails off with a wink.

Poor Tracy, if only she knew! I mean, she’s always been a looker, objectively speaking, but she’s a bit late to the game - no one else has interested me ever since Paige walked into my office and captivated me with her charm and intelligence.

Oh, I’m sure the world at large would be quite cynical about the whole thing -
yes, a cute twenty-year-old
, they’ll say,
sure, it was her charm and intelligence that captivated you. Sure
.

But it’s not like I don’t already have a whole array of cute twenty-year-olds making eyes at me. And I’ve been teaching for four and a half years now, not including my TA years, but Paige is the only student who’s ever had that effect on me.

Actually, scratch that, she’s the only woman who’s ever had that effect on me. And that was even before I found out that we had some, hm,
tastes
in common …

“Well, hello Sebastian, it’s good to see you.”

Ah, the chair of the department. A very nice old man, Tom, and he’s an old friend of my dad’s to boot, back when they were both young assistant professors teaching at the same college, but to be honest I wish the event would just begin already, so I can text
her
without all these people trying to talk to me.

“Hello, Tom. How’s it going?”

“Good, good. The usual. What are you working on these days?”

Believe me, Tom, you really don’t want to know what I’m working on these days
, I think.

Aloud I say: “Nothing very exciting, just some preliminary research. You know how it is with these things, I’m just looking at some secondary sources to make sure nobody has already said the same thing.”

“Yes, of course. Well, if you ever want to talk, bounce some ideas off, you know … And I hope your dad’s well. I’ve been meaning to write to him and congratulate him about his latest article, you know, the one on Wordsworth. Great stuff. He just keeps pumping them out, doesn’t he? Tireless. I don’t know how he does it … Oh, I see they’re starting now, I have to go and welcome everyone. Anyhow, I’ll probably see you at the post-conference party tomorrow, we can talk more then.”

I smile and take my place - corner seat near the back, no one beside or behind me, perfect for what I’m about to do. I take out my phone, making as though to silence it for the event, then furrow my brow, as though an urgent message has come up, demanding my urgent attention.

And then I click over to the messaging app and start typing.

Hello beautiful. Hope you had a good day. At the conference right now, all I can think about is you and our afternoon interlude, and how good it felt to come in your mouth, knowing that you’d still be able to taste me when you were at your next class …

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

I’ve never been this cheerful and relaxed going to Dr. Morland’s class. It’s so good not to have to sit around wondering if he’s going to look at me in the same way, all that does-he-like-me-does-he-not stuff that was making me feel like I was in high school or something.

He’s been so sweet, it seems crazy that he would be, and yet he is. He’s been texting me every morning just to tell me he was thinking of me, and we’ve been hooking up over Skype at night for the last couple of days.

Needless to say, I’ve been sleeping
very
well!

I called home the other day, and mom actually asked me if something was up, because I sounded so relaxed.

Of course, I didn’t say anything about Sebastian - what am I supposed to do, announce cheerfully that I’m having a torrid affair with my college professor, whom I’m still taking a class with this term? I think not.

Obviously, if things are still going on after this term, I might give her a somewhat edited account of events, but not now. And it’s not even just about the scandal factor - it’s also that I feel like I would be jinxing things if I said anything too early.

I mean, I guess it is possible that I could just be very naïve, that he’s just looking for hot easy sex.

But why go to all that trouble? Yes, we do hook up every time we meet, but I’m sure it’s not like he couldn’t just go and pick up random women if that was all he was looking for.

And he always seems so tender, so kind afterwards …

“Hey, Paige.”

It’s Lloyd again. He’s been sending me the occasional email asking about homework, in a way that suggests he’s fishing for a meeting, and I’ve just politely answered his questions while pretending to be oblivious to the subtext, hoping that he’ll get the hint. He’s a nice boy, but it’s getting embarrassing …

“Hi Lloyd.”

“So, how are your weekends these days? You’ve been so helpful I’d really like to buy you dinner some time.”

Poor Lloyd. I wish I didn’t have to do this.

“Oh, Lloyd, I’m sorry. It’s sweet of you to offer but my weekends are kind of taken up by my boyfriend these days.”

He looks surprised and perhaps just a tiny bit disappointed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

“Oh, it’s … it’s a very recent thing. It just … happened. I, uh, wasn’t really expecting it to happen.”

“Oh, no worries, all cool.”

“You’re still quite welcome to email me anytime if you have any questions, you know,” I say apologetically, my voice trailing off nervously - but it’s not on Lloyd’s account.

It’s because Sebastian’s just walked in, right when I was telling Lloyd he could email me anytime, and his face has gone from cheery and relaxed to being pale and furious.

I look at him, wide-eyed and placating, but it seems he’ll have none of it.

“Good morning, everyone,” he says, his voice steely, harsh, his gaze firmly averted from mine. “So, does anyone have questions about last week’s readings?”

He doesn’t look at me at any point all through class, not even when he dismisses us - he simply goes over to his desk and looks at something on his laptop.

It doesn’t help that Jasmine gloms onto him before I can say anything, and even though I linger, pretending to check my phone, he doesn’t do anything to conclude his conversation with her.

Finally I walk out, hoping that he’ll stop me like he did the other time (how long ago that seems now!).

But he doesn’t - he ignores me completely, doesn’t even turn his head to look at me as I walk past him.

He can’t possibly be
that
jealous, can he? I mean, it’s crazy, all I did was tell Lloyd he could email me anytime, it’s not like I was flirting with him or anything.

Unless he’s now decided to move on to Jasmine or something … A terrible thought, and even though I tell myself it can’t possibly be, he’s probably just jealous, because even if he’d decided he was tired of me, he couldn’t possibly be quite that cruel, could he?

I’m feeling so sickened that I don’t even register the familiar footsteps behind me until I hear his voice.

“Ms. Lytton,” I hear him say from behind. “If we could speak for a moment.”

I pause, and he catches up with me.

“I’d like to talk to you in my office for a moment, if I may.”

I nod.

“Thank you,” he says, but he still looks pale and grim - his jaw is set tightly, his arms are crossed, and his nostrils are flaring.

He’s definitely not happy.

We walk silently to his office, and when we get there, he doesn’t ask me to sit down, or even attempt to touch me in any way.

Instead, he closes the door and leans against it.

He suddenly seems tired, terribly tired.

I look at him, unsure, a bit frightened. I want to stroke his hair and tell him everything is all right, but I somehow feel that that wouldn’t necessarily make things any better, and so I refrain.

“Paige,” he says, his voice softer, as though he’s picked up on my trepidation. “I just want to make it very clear that you are under no obligation to keep seeing me if you don’t want to. My offer of financial aid still stands, but I don’t want to keep seeing you if that’s the only reason you’re doing it.”

What?

“B-but -” I stammer.

He sighs.

“You’re young and beautiful, and perhaps you want a more normal life than what I can offer. That’s fine. Better now than later.”

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”

“He’s so much more normal, isn’t he?” he snaps suddenly, turning away from me and walking to the other side of the room, where he irritably moves some files around. “Nice fresh-faced boy, he probably can give you the white picket fence you want, with none of the perversion …”

Where the hell did
that
come from?

But now I’m annoyed as well.

“Is this really about Lloyd, or are you just trying to get rid of me, so you can start on Jasmine?”

He laughs bitterly. “I’m not the one inviting her to drop me an email anytime. I’m her professor, I’m obliged to answer her questions. I’m quite aware she’s trying to hit on me, I think it’s pathetic, especially since she’s a bratty nitwit, but what the fuck am I supposed to do. Whereas Lloyd’s been after you for weeks, and you haven’t exactly been disencouraging him, have you?”

“Does telling him I have a boyfriend count as ‘disencouraging him’?” I say, exasperated.

He looks at me, stunned, silent for a moment.

“You told him you have a boyfriend?”

Great, maybe now he’s going to freak out on me about that. Well, whatever, he kind of asked for it …

“Yes, he was trying to ask me out again, for dinner this weekend. I told him my weekends were taken up by my new boyfriend, but if he had any questions about homework, he could feel free to email me. You walked in just when I was finishing that sentence.”