The awkwardness continued as we rode the elevator up to my apartment. I fumbled for my keys in front of my door. “Thank you again for taking me on and coming with me today.”
“Of course. I’d do it for any student.”
Another reminder. One that hurt.
I unlocked the door and opened it. “Would you like to come in? I could make you some coffee or something?” I really wasn’t propositioning him to come in for the proverbial night cap. It just seemed like the polite thing to say.
Caine was quiet for a very long moment. “I think it’s best we don’t spend time together outside of class anymore. Your research is solid, and I think we have the semester schedule planned out well enough. If you need to discuss your thesis, the department secretary has access to my calendar and can set up an appointment.”
Maybe we had gotten a little too friendly, but… “Did I do something to upset you?”
“No.” He lifted his chin toward the inside of my apartment. “Lock up behind you.”
I took a quick shower, changed into an old concert T-shirt to sleep, and climbed into bed feeling confused and sad. My feelings for Caine had grown despite the fact that I knew it was stupid to fall for a man who had no interest in a relationship, even if he hadn’t been my professor. I tried to fall asleep, but it was no use.
Plucking my phone from the charger, I thought I might type my notes from today into an email to add to my research later. But when I powered my cell on, it opened to my last text from Davis. I’d completely forgotten to respond to his comment regarding me not texting that I missed him, too.
Even though the timing was off for us, Davis never gave me mixed signals. He didn’t play hot and cold. He owned up to his feelings and was honest with me. I sighed and texted back.
Rachel: I miss you, too.
Rachel
Caine had successfully avoided me for four days.
Until today. There would be no way to avoid seeing me unless he skipped the once-per-semester, mandatory faculty meeting TAs were required to attend, as well as professors.
I was sitting alone in the back of the large conference room with a seat open next to me—not that I was saving it for anyone in particular. Caine hadn’t shown up yet. Each time someone walked in, my eyes darted to the door. The music department chair had taken his place at the front of the room, readying to begin, when Caine finally showed up.
Stopping in the doorway, his eyes scanned the room, falling on me before quickly looking anywhere else. He couldn’t have taken a seat farther away from me.
I was surprised his hair didn’t catch fire during the forty-five minute meeting with the way my eyes were burning into the back of his head. After it was over, I stayed in my seat to see if he would walk back out the door without a single word.
Caine stood and glanced over at me, but was quickly joined by a woman who walked over to greet him with a big smile. She wore a bright pink suit that screamed for attention, but aside from that, she was actually rather pretty—though I hated to admit that. I’d seen her around the halls and knew she was an adjunct professor, although I didn’t know her name.
Professor Pink was also the complete opposite of me—she had unnaturally blonde, Marilyn Monroe-type hair, stood only a few inches shorter than Caine, and her suit, even being a tacky color, was definitely designer. She was very touchy-feely with Professor West, and there was a definite familiarity in the way she rested her hands on his arms as they spoke. After the second or third time she tossed her hair back and laughed, I was done watching. Standing up, I headed for the door but got stuck behind two professors who were talking while they walked and moving as slow as shit.
Caine and Professor Pink were a few people ahead of me in line to exit the room, and he made a point not to look in my direction. When his hand went to the small of her back to usher her out the door, I realized I was a total idiot. Obviously the mighty professor didn’t have an issue with fraternization—unless it was with me.
Screw him. I couldn’t believe how full of shit he was.
As soon as I was out of the conference room, I bolted down the hall. My legs couldn’t get me off campus fast enough. I was annoyed for thinking it was possible Caine was interested in me but held back because I was his assistant. Even more so, I was pissed at him for pretending that was the case. I hadn’t been imagining the signals he gave the other night at dinner.
I’d nearly made it out of the building when I abruptly stopped, causing a student to crash right into me.
“What the hell?” he barked.
“Sorry.”
I started walking again. I should get the hell out of this building, but I knew myself—certain things ate at me. If I didn’t get this off my chest, I was going to be miserable all day. I needed to go give Caine a piece of my mind. Screw it.
Turning around, I crashed into the same student again.
“Seriously?” he said.
“Jeez. You’ll live. Don’t walk so close behind people!”
I took off for Caine’s office. I might lose my job for telling him off, but at least I would be able to sleep tonight. So what if I was proving his point that I was tightly wound?
The door to Caine’s office was cracked open. I paused to collect my thoughts for a moment, then reached for the door handle. Screw knocking. But a woman’s voice stopped me from busting in. Her laughter hit my skin, sparking a fire that burned its way up to my cheeks. I hadn’t heard Professor Pink’s voice earlier, yet somehow I was certain it was her.
“Remember that little Italian place?” the woman said. “The one with the fireplace in the back?”
“Giordano’s.”
“Yes, that’s the one. We should go there again sometime. The dessert cart looked incredible.” She paused. “Although we didn’t make it to dessert that night, did we?”
I’d heard enough. I didn’t stay for Caine’s response. I couldn’t. As pissed off as I was when I’d marched my ass to his office, hearing him with another woman had turned that into hurt and embarrassed—something I preferred not to let others see. So, I prescribed myself my own therapy and instead of barging into his office, I popped my earbuds in and headed home.
I had zero desire to go out to our monthly friends’ dinner tonight. I preferred to stay at home and wallow in self-pity. But when I attempted to cancel, Ava guilted me into showing up. So, I forced myself to get ready. Screw it. If I didn’t feel good, I might as well look good. Plus, blow-drying my hair was oddly therapeutic for me. I found the constant, repetitive brushing and smoothing very calming.