I paused, again looking out at the students in front of me. They watched me, waiting for me to continue. And I did. For another forty minutes I lectured over the first chapter, and when I broke the class for a fifteen minute break, I had to pee, my throat was getting hoarse, and my heels were rubbing blisters into the sides of my feet—and let’s not forget the blue fingertips.
I walked from the room and down the hall to the small lounge area. I used the restroom, and when I was standing in front of the mirror vigorously scrubbing the blue from my hands, I stared at myself. I was wearing a tailored hip length black suit jacket, but I’d paired it with boot cut jeans and a worn gray V-neck T-shirt with a faded out University of Pennsylvania crest on the bust. It was likely wrong to wear my Alma matter’s logo at its rival’s campus, but given some of the ridiculous if not crude T-shirts I saw around this place, I’d decided I didn’t care. The T-shirt hung loosely and casually on my frame, peeking out from under the lower hem of my jacket by an inch or two. My heels had a pointy toe, and they hurt like hell, but I liked the look. Sadly it all left me feeling pathetic.
I’d felt like a shmuck the week before dressed in a full suit, my hair perfectly in place. Feeling like a shmuck because I was overdressed was not typical in the least for me. I was allowed to dress as I liked for an evening class, and since I’d started TAing a few years back, I’d always chosen to look professional because my age otherwise showed through. And yet, for the first time since teaching a class, I felt like a fucking dork.
It was him.
He’d always made casual look good, and he still did. For some reason that made me feel pathetic and immature. I wanted to look casual right along with him as though I could stay in control of myself if we were on the same level—even if that level was his. I ran my hands through my hair, gathering it at the back of my head and twisting it into a messy bun that I fixed in place with a hair tie from my pocket. A younger woman from the class walked in on me as I was staring blankly at myself.
“I like your jacket with the T-shirt underneath. Very cool,” she commented with a smile.
“Thanks.” I cleared my throat as I headed toward the door.
“You must be really smart,” the girl commented again.
I stopped, turning toward her.
“I mean … you can tell. Just the way you talk—”
“I worked very hard in school.”
The girl shrugged. “I should probably do more of that,” she said jokingly as she pulled the stall door open.
I nodded slowly. “I guess it’s all a matter of priorities.” I stared at her for a moment and then tried and failed at a smile. When I turned and walked out, it was with an awkward nod of my head.
I sucked back water from the water fountain in the hallway on my way back to the classroom, and as I angled my head to the side and slurped as quietly as I could, I gazed down the hall, my eyes catching on Kane. He was lounging easily against one of the wide window sills speaking with a blonde gal from the class. The girl couldn’t have been more than a sophomore at most, and while I could only see half of her face from the angle she was standing to me, it was clear she was flirting with Kane.
Kane smiled at the young woman, and it was just as flirtatious as the look that was returned to him. When his eyes moved past the woman and down the hall, his attention caught on me and he suddenly stood up straighter. I sucked in a gasp of air. Sadly the gasp came as water was still flowing into my mouth, and I instantly choked, sputtering water as I stood upright and tried to breathe.
Kane’s eyes never left me as my humiliation played out for him, and when I managed to recover myself enough, a quick glance in his direction proved he was still watching and the young woman was too. His composure looked tense, and as I looked around hastily for an embarrassment escape hatch to appear, he placed his hand on the woman’s arm and pulled her away toward the classroom, either not wanting to see me recover from this or simply wanting to give me privacy to do so.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath as I looked up and down the hallway. I was alone now, two minutes after it would have benefited me most to have some privacy. I sighed, shook my head, and started toward the lecture hall. My heels clicked on the hard floor as I walked, and the blisters felt wet and burning hot—as though they’d broken open and the leather of my shoes was rubbing directly on fresh open skin. It was an oddly accurate metaphor for how it felt being around Kane again. He abraded my being in some way I was ill-equipped to handle.