Out of Her League (7 page)

He didn’t look up. “You know, everyone else
ignores it.”

“What’s that?”

“My…issue.”

“Yeah, not my style, I guess.”

“No shit,” he said with a smirk, still
directed more at the menu than at her.

Michaela laughed, but stifled her humor
when the waiter approached to fill their coffee cups and deliver a plate of
sinful-looking cinnamon buns. She beamed up at the young man, and he smiled
back.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying so, Ms.
Price,” he began, and Michaela could feel the muscles in her face going tight,
years of training holding her smile in place. “But thank you for all the work
you do. The Price Foundation helped start a shelter and community center in my
hometown that made a big difference for me and some of my friends. It meant a
lot to us.”

The tension in her chest left in a rush and
a genuine smile returned. “Where are you from?”

The waiter ducked his head. “Asheville, ma’am.”

And now she could hear the hint of the
south in his voice. She also knew that the shelter they’d helped start was for
LGBTQ youth who weren’t getting the support they needed from their families and
community.

“What’s your name?”

“Craig.”

“I’m glad we could help you and your
friends, Craig. Thank you for saying something. The Albemarle House means a lot
to me, too.”

His smile made her heart hurt, and when it
seemed like they might both get a little overcome by it, Craig quickly got down
to the business of taking their order.

She watched him walk away with their menus
tucked under his arm and hoped he was still getting the support he needed.

“You care. A lot,” Lachlan observed quietly.

“I love what I do,” she agreed with a shrug.
“It was never about redeeming my reputation.”

“I never once thought that it was.”

She sighed at his frown. “Most people do. I
understand why, too. I’ve traded on my notoriety to draw attention to my causes
and the charity work I do.”

“Why?” He seemed only curious. No
judgement. No questioning of hers.

So she told him the truth. “It was the only
good thing I could make out of the fallout from that stupid tape.”

“You were very young. That must have been extraordinarily
difficult. You were—
are
very brave.”

She waved that off. “Not really.”

“As we’ve previously discussed, you could
have become a shut-in. Or at least gone into hiding.”

“That’s not me.”

“No, it’s not. You’re brave.”

“You say that like you’re not. Like you
wouldn’t have done the same.”

“I can say with absolute certainly that I
would not have done the same. Don’t tell me you’re going to join the rest of
the world in pretending I’m not a total failure at social stuff.”

“You’re not a failure,” she said sharply,
annoyed that he would say that.

He cast her a dubious look. “I liked it
better when you were yanking my chain about it.”

“I don’t see what you do and what I do as
all that different, actually.”

That made him laugh. “Really? Because it
looks like black and white to me.”

“We both deal with intense social
situations in a way that gets us what we want—which, ultimately, is distance. I
do it by manipulating people and situations, and the press especially, as much
as possible. I count on them to make assumptions about me and use that. You do
it by withdrawing. The net result, though, is the same.”

Lachlan appeared to think about that while Craig
delivered their food and refilled their coffee.

“Why do you want distance?” he asked when
they were alone again.

“So no one can hurt me,” she said simply,
painfully aware that she’d never spoken with anyone about this.

“Does it work?” he asked skeptically.

“Mostly. They can insult the person they
think they know—the one they’ve created out of mountains of speculation and
only a few grains of truth. But I’m not that person on the cover of those
magazines. I don’t scare off men, and I certainly didn’t make your brother
gay.”

Lachlan chuckled at that, but his smile
didn’t last. “It’s not really working, though, is it?”

“What?”

“The not-getting-hurt thing.”

Michaela looked at him in silence for a
long time. “Not really. You?”

His smile was wry. And a little sad. “Loneliness
is its own kind of pain, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.”

Michaela Price: Celebutante to the
Stars, Friend to No One.

Michaela Price has been on campus for a
month now, and while her professors stoutly refuse to offer up any insights
into her academic performance so far, her fellow Crimsonites are more than
happy to talk about what it’s like to have her in class.

“She’s not really friendly,” one fellow
law student reports. “She keeps to herself and doesn’t talk to the people
around her. The one time I saw her talking to some of the other students in her
Business Law class, she looked suspicious and one of them was rolling his eyes when
they walked away.”

Another student complained, “You can
tell she’s all the professors’ darling. One guy calls on her all the time.
Seriously, almost half of the class, he’s getting her to show off how she’s
keeping up with the work when the rest of us are struggling.”

Which begs the question, does she pay
people to help her?

“I haven’t seen her with anyone, so I’m
not sure who would help. Maybe someone in the class above us?” suggests one of
her classmates. “But who knows? With that kind of money, I wouldn’t be
surprised if she sent someone to class to take notes for her, let alone do the
readings.”

Not everyone is convinced she’s trying
to cut corners, though. “Maybe she just works hard,” said another woman who
claims to sit near Michaela in several of her classes. “She looks focused when
I see her, and I don’t think you can fake knowing the answers to these
questions, you know?”

Maybe not. Or maybe there
is
a sucker born every day.

---
Crimson Gossip
, Blog Entry 1737.

Michaela closed the browser on her phone
with a sigh.

The headline didn’t even make sense, for
Pete’s sake. The only consolation was that she didn’t think a lot people off
campus read this shit. So far, the mainstream media was still pondering whether
or not she’d driven Callum to be gay, or if he’d been sleeping with men all
along behind her back. God forbid any of them try to find out the truth. Of
course, she and Callum hadn’t been entirely forthcoming with that, either, so
what did she expect?

Regardless, being the favorite target of the
Crimson Gossip
was better than having this crap all over the newsstand,
but it was still irritating. The site was determined to insinuate as much
bullshit as they—she? he?—could possibly squeeze out of a few of Michaela’s
classmates and a lot of no-doubt out-of-context quotes. She liked that one of
the women in her classes had defended her, though, and wondered if it had been
Sadie.

She would have preferred it if everyone had
simply refused to say a word. At least it seemed she could count on the faculty
to be discreet. She’d been at this game long enough that she hadn’t expected as
much.

She smiled and waved as Lachlan crossed the
street toward her. It took her a moment to figure out why he looked so strangeto her before she realized he was wearing actual, honest-to-god blue jeans.
And a nicely snug t-shirt that showed off his flat belly and muscled arms. And,
well, Professor Morrison was looking
damn hot
.

“Hello!” she said with a big smile.

“Hi,” he said, then shocked the shit out of
her by drawing her into a tight hug.

She held on, one hand pressed between his
broad shoulders, the other low on his back, her fingertips dipping into the
trench of his spine. The heat of his body sinking into hers felt like heaven.

She forced herself let go and looked up at
him with a mix of wonder and delight.

 “What are you grinning about?” he asked
suspiciously.

“Nothing,” she said, biting her cheek. She
could tell him, of course, but then she wouldn’t have anyone to talk to for the
next ten minutes. “You ready for our walk?”

“You bet.”

They started out on their usual meandering
route through the Square, bypassing the coffee when Michaela said it was too
late in the afternoon for caffeine for her, and Lachlan just shrugged rather
than go inside and get himself anything. They were back out into another quiet
neighborhood when she noticed that his silence seemed different than usual. His
frown less consternated and more constipated.

“Everything okay?” she asked gently.

“What? Oh, yeah.” He laughed, and she got
the impression it was at himself. “I’m just frustrated about a class I taught
today.”

“Didn’t go well?”

“No,” he said succinctly. “It was a
disaster.”

“Trouble with some of the kids?”

“Yes, but not the way you mean. The ones
that bothered to show up at all were fine, I guess. Just…”

“What?”

“Bored. They were really, really
bored
.”

Michaela bit back the urge to laugh. “Not
the great philosophical thinkers of tomorrow?”

“Uh,
no
. But that’s the thing. They
don’t have to be. I don’t expect them to be. But I’m still not getting through
to them, and I should be. Just because they don’t want to be philosophers or
major in philosophy doesn’t mean this isn’t interesting stuff, and there’s no
reason they can’t enjoy learning about it. Except, apparently, that I can’t
make
it interesting.”

“You can’t make it interesting as in it’s
impossible for anyone to do so, or as in that
you
, specifically, can’t?”

“The latter, I’m afraid.”

“So change it up.”

Lachlan frowned, putting his hand on the
small of her back to steer her around a muddy puddle on the sidewalk. “I don’t
know how.”

“Can you ask for help?”

He smiled a little, looking down at the
sidewalk. “I think I am.”

“Oh,” she said, pleased and thrilled that
he would trust her with this. He was just full of surprises tonight. “Well, I
don’t know a blessed thing about philosophy, but I’ll do whatever I can. And,
you know, there are other people you can ask for help.”

“Like who?”

“Anna?” she suggested gently.

He seemed to think that over for a while
before saying, “Good point.”

“And I’m sure you’re not the only one to
have this issue. What about your colleagues?”

“Ah, well. There is only one Dr. Snorrison.”

She threaded her arm through his, pulling him
close. “Come on, now. If I’m not going to let the
Crimson Gossip
freak
me out, you’re not allowed to either.”

“That sounds good in theory, but harder in
practice.”

“Welcome to my world,” she said with a wry
smile, pleased when he smiled in sympathy rather than cringing with distaste.
She thought most people would have run screaming by now, and she wouldn’t have
blamed them. Hell, most people didn’t bother to even try to approach.

Which, actually, reminded her she’d wanted
to talk to Lachlan about something.

“Speaking of asking for help, I was hoping
I could pick your brain,” she said, waiting for him to nod before continuing.
She smiled at how serious he looked as he leaned in, his attention absolute as
they walked on. “I was thinking about what we spoke about at breakfast the
other day. About being alone. Do you think I can get through school without any
help?”

“I do. You work very hard. But what makes
you ask?”

“I was approached by some people who are in
a bunch of my classes, asking if I wanted to join their study group.”

“I can tell from your voice that you doubt
their sincerity.”

She looked up at him. “Wouldn’t you?”

“No?” he answered, bemused.

Michaela sighed. “Look, this is going to
sound…weird, okay? But people don’t want to be my friend. They just…
don’t
.
Trust me.”

“I’m your friend,” he pointed out gently,
and it had to be a testament to how far they’d come that he didn’t even blush
or stammer when he said it.

She smiled at him. “You are. But let’s be
honest, that’s only because I didn’t really give you a choice.”

He opened his mouth, and she could tell he
was going to argue, but then he smiled ruefully. “That’s actually true,” he
conceded grudgingly, and she laughed. “But that was because of my issues, not
because of who you are. As a person.”

“But that’s just it, Lachlan. No one knows
who I am as a person. They just see the recognizable face. The reputation.
That’s
who they’re approaching. Or avoiding, as is often the case.”

“But you said these people were in your
classes, right?”

“Yes?”

“So, they know you share at least
some
things in common with them, even if it’s just your coursework.”

“I guess,” she allowed slowly.

“I don’t know these people, but it’s entirely
possible that they just need another person in their group to round things out.
It’s pretty common for a few students who are on the same course track to pull
together to split the workload and share study materials.”

“But why me?”

Lachlan frowned. “Why not you? If you take
away the weird shit that is your life, you’re just another student.”

Michaela laughed. “But that shit
is
my
life.”

“Maybe they don’t care? And even if they
do, a little, you’d still get to have some help in your classes.

“I like the idea,” she admitted. “The
readings alone are killing me.”

“That’s not unusual, especially in law
school. This study group would certainly help, and you might end up friends
with them. And if you don’t, you still get the benefit for your classes.”

“Maybe,” she said, turning the idea over in
her head as they walked in companionable silence. She
would
love to have
some help, but she couldn’t shake the fear things would go sour, as they always
had in the past.

They were almost back to the Square when Lachlan
stopped on a corner, his eyes staring off to the distance. He looked to be deep
in thought, contemplating the universe and all its philosophical nuances. Then
she realized his gaze was fixed on a bar down the street.

“Wanna get a beer?” she asked with a slow smile.

He looked at her, brows raised. “You don’t
mind?”

“Hell, no. I could use a drink. It’s been a
long-ass week.”

He laughed and pulled her across the
street, his hand over hers on his arm as he led her towards the bar’s front door.

Lachlan was a bit nervous about dragging
Michaela to his favorite pub, but he thought it would be okay. It was insane
how little privacy she was allowed when out in public, but he’d successfully figured
out the library room at Stella’s would work for breakfast. So maybe McGinty’s would
work almost as well for a drink.

Students rarely set foot in McGinty’s, and
when they did they didn’t last long. The owner, Finn, was famously cantankerous
and had zero interest in catering to the wild weekend parties that overtook most
bars in the area, let alone the underage drinkers that often went along with
those. Lachlan had seen him card students Lachlan knew to be over twenty-one,
then declare their licenses were bogus and toss them out.

Lachlan and Michaela pushed through the
heavy wooden door to the tavern and stopped, blinking against the change in
light. The afternoon sun outside was utterly lost inside the dark wood-paneled
walls—the only thing allowed to shine in this room was the impressive row of
taps above the bar. The sounds of traffic and pedestrians were muffled the
moment the door thumped closed, the noise was replaced by the up-tempo beat of
a traditional Irish folksong. Finn ruled the sound system with an iron fist,
and at any given moment the music was as likely to be bagpipes as it was to be
Led Zeppelin.

“This looks…nice,” Michaela said, and he
smiled at her hesitation to find the right word.

“It is,” he promised, then raised his
voice. “Don’t let the asshole behind the bar convince you otherwise.”

Finn looked up from his conversation with
another regular and smiled. “Hello, Lach!”

Lachlan smiled back, then turned to
Michaela. “Go ahead over that way,” he said, pointing to the mostly walled-in
table in the back corner. “I’ll get the first round.”

 She chose a beer from the impressive
selection, thanked him, and walked away, hopefully unaware of Finn’s long and
totally unsubtle look.

He turned to Lachlan with both brows disappearing
under his shaggy bangs. “Well, well, Dr. Morrison, you’ve managed to surprise
even me. Congratulations.”

“She’s just a friend,” he said mildly.

“Well, then, I’m sorry for you instead,” Finn
replied with a smirk, already pouring Lachlan’s drink.

“Me, too, actually,” Lachlan admitted,
surprising even himself.

“What are you waiting for, then?”

“Hell to freeze over?” he quipped dryly.

Finn glanced over his shoulder toward their
table and back at Lachlan. “I don’t think
snow
balls are the kind you’re
lacking, my friend.”

Lachlan snorted. “Thanks.”

“I’m a bartender. It’s my sworn duty to
give out the very best advice there is to be given.”

Lachlan rolled his eyes and ordered
Michaela’s drink, beating a hasty retreat to the corner as soon as he could,
ignoring Finn’s chuckle as he went.

Finn meant well, and it was nice to have
friends who thought he could just be with any woman he wanted to be with, but
Lachlan was more realistic than that. No matter how much he liked her, or how
much his attraction to her grew with every walk and each conversation, Michaela
Price wasn’t for him.

He was a quiet college professor. And she
was…out of his league.

Though, honestly, he hadn’t had much luck
with the college professor set either. He’d dated his fair share, and enjoyed
their company just fine, but ultimately, it had always seemed a little dry. A
little
boring
.

A lot like his Introduction to Philosophy
class, apparently.