“Robin, I—”
I don’t give him a chance to finish. The sound of his voice dies away as the door closes behind me and I take off running down the hall.
|-4+10|
I’m probably being overly cautious, but for the next week, I’m certain to be out of the building for the day by five o’clock. As it is, I’m glad I never had occasion to give him my cell phone number. He’s tried emailing a few times, but his words are always short and formal. I don’t know what I expect to happen if I see Hawk again, but I don’t trust myself to take a chance at finding out. One thing’s for certain, I won’t be kissing him again. Nope. Not ever. Not going to happen.
On Wednesday morning, just as I’m collecting my things to head home for the day, I feel the weight of someone’s eyes on me. My pulse spikes as my unsettled heart thinks it might be Hawk. However, relief and disappointment wash through me when I look up to see Prof. Ferris standing in the doorway of my office.
“Got a second, Robin?”
“Yeah, sure. What’s up?”
A clipboard dangles at her side. She brings it up for perusal, tracing a finger over the page. “I know I have you assigned to Whitmore Elementary tomorrow, but I actually had a request for you specifically at a different site. I don’t normally like students to do two rotations at the same place, but the instructor seemed very insistent.”
I shrug, thinking how well my improved presentation is paying off if I’m being asked back. A momentary flicker of excitement runs through me when I think about telling Hawk the good news, followed by a hollowing of my gut when I remember why I can’t.
“It’s fine by me, if you don’t see a problem with it,” I answer.
Wearing a smile, she makes a note. “Great! Hawk will be so happy you—”
“Wait, Hawk?” I interrupt. Prof. Ferris’s eyebrows knit together. “You’re sending me to the Community Outreach Program again?”
“Is … there … a problem with that?”
Is there a problem? Is she serious? Forget how embarrassing it’s going to be to see him after the toe-curling kiss we had, only for me to then storm out on him, but to make the first time I see him again happen in front of a potentially hostile audience to boot? Oh no, no problem at all. Why not give me a megaphone and I’ll hop a plane back to Colorado where I can announce on campus the details of the tattoo on Matthias Gnomon’s left butt cheek?
A deep breath helps me to not look like a mental patient in front of my boss. The last thing I need is for history to repeat itself here. Even if Hawk is just the janitor and not someone on the faculty as with Colorado, I’ve had enough of office politics and romances to last me a lifetime.
“Of course not. No problem at all.”
Sitting in my car on the far side of the parking lot, I wait until I see the familiar RAV-4 take a spot in a stall closer to the classroom. Hawk’s perfectly on time; arriving at seven fifty-nine and strutting through the classroom entrance just as my clock reads eight. I don’t want to create a situation where we’ll have a chance to talk before he starts class. I try to ignore how his academic clothes—today black corduroys and a pressed white shirt—make him so much more tempting. For good measure, I wait until five after before grabbing my bag, locking my doors, and heading toward the building.
As I pull back the door and enter the classroom, I’m shocked to find it completely empty. Except for the instructor, of course. He’s at the front of the classroom, leaning back onto the corner of his desk, his arms crossed over his chest and a knowing grin plastered on his face.
“You’re late.”
“I’m late?” I turn my head to indicate the empty room. “Where’s the class?”
He pushes off the desk and starts a measured advance in my direction. “Administrative day, no classes.”
Wouldn’t the parking lot have been empty? Or was I just too focused on looking for one specific car that I didn’t realize there weren’t many others around?
“I wasn’t sure if Joanna was going to remember when I called her,” he continues. “Lucky for me, she didn’t. Then again, there’s no such thing as luck. Only probability and the twisting of numbers.” He throws my words back at me with a taunting grin. “Every mathematician knows that.”
“And you twisted my numbers and got me here. Alone. How very convenient for you.”
“Not in the least. I was planning on sleeping in today.” He pauses halfway across the room. “Maybe that shows you how much I wanted to talk to you. I don’t give up a late morning for just anybody.”
“You should have slept in,” I return. “You would have gotten a lot more out of that than you’re going to get out of me.”
Hawk shoves his hands into his pockets as he pauses to study me. “Did I offend you? Did you feel I was forcing myself on you? If so, you should really work on your signals. Because when you started to kiss me back, I kinda sorta thought you were enjoying it as much as I was. I don’t get what happened. That mystery pulled me out of bed this morning.”
The last thing I need to be thinking about right now is anything that combines Hawk and a bed.
“I’m not doing this.” I turn, heading for the door. “Do me a favor and report my attendance when you get a chance. I need the hours.”
“No.”
My hand freezes on the doorknob. “No?”
He knows he’s got me trapped. I glare over my shoulder. Hawk Stephens is the embodiment of cocky self-assuredness.
“No,” he says again. “Stay the whole hour or I won’t report your attendance.”
“But there’s nobody here!”
He rolls up on his toes. “I’m here, you’re here. One hour, or no dice.”
I know I could totally call him on this. With one phone call or text to Prof. Ferris, this whole farce would end. Then I consider that if Hawk was willing to go this far, simply playing tattletale won’t achieve anything. He’ll just find another place and time to talk with me.
Sitting at the desk closest to the door, I lay my laced hands on the table. “Three minutes, and you’ll round up.”
“Good enough.” He sits in the chair closest to him, leaving two rows of desks between us. “Why aren’t you eating?”
“What?”
“Why aren’t you eating?” he repeats slower, as though it might be a foreign turn of phrase with which I’m unfamiliar. “You’re a creature of habit. Every day since you started at Manderson, you’ve had a Greek yogurt, a banana, and a diet root beer. All I can find now is the root beer in your trashcan. So why aren’t you eating?”
“You’re very presumptive, you know that?” I lean back and fold my arms over my chest. “You go through my trashcan?”
“I go through everyone’s trashcan. I’m the janitor. Now answer the question.”
I shrug, but refuse to give him much. “I guess I just haven’t been that hungry this week.”
He stands again and walks one row closer. “Guilty conscious, huh? Are you guilty because you kissed me, then stopped talking to me, or something else?”
I consider for a moment just agreeing with him and going. I’m sure three minutes has passed by now, not that I’d stay even if it hadn’t. Then I realize the best thing to do is just be honest. If that doesn’t get Hawk off my back, I don’t know what will.
“Fine, you really want to know? Yes, I feel guilty. Guilty because I’m letting myself down. I’ve gone through too much and struggled too long to get involved with the janitor.”
Summoning my inner snake, I’m sure to hiss out the term like I’m insulting his mother. I see him flinch and think I’ve hit the mark when he sweeps away all emotion from his face.
“And, pray tell, Miss Lewis, what is it about a janitor that’s so morally corrupt or disgustingly gruesome in your eyes? Do you think I’m simple? Th
at I’m your intellectual inferior? That I smell bad?”
Truth be told, he smells good. Far too good. I don’t know what cologne he uses, but I get hit by a wave of it as he takes another step forward and leans down, placing his palms on the edge of the desk where I’m sitting, caging me.
“What you actually are doesn’t matter. You’re the janitor, case closed. Until I’ve found an advisor willing to invite me to their group, that’s all that matters.”
He pulls back. “Oh, I see, it’s like that. Okay to flirt with me behind closed doors when no one else knows, but lord forbid someone finds out you’ve been running around with the help. Even if that help is also a PhD student with a full fellowship. Or at least, until it was unceremonious ripped from him for being considerate of someone else’s welfare. Maybe my students were right about you after all. Sorry, I guess I had you pegged for someone who valued people for the content of their character. Good thing you got that out there before anything serious happened between us. Now, if you still want to leave, I have papers to grade.”
I don’t hesitate. Jumping to my feet, I grab my bag and swing it back over my shoulder, furious at the whole scheme. I’m about halfway to the door when the niggling voice in the back of my head that normally tells me to leave good enough alone develops laryngitis.
“You know what?” I spin around. Hawk stops midway to his desk and does the same. “That’s crap. It sounds all well and good on paper, but it’s total crap. The truth is, no matter how handsome you are or how much you helped with my presentation, you are the janitor. If anyone finds out I’m involved with you, especially with my history, it won’t be good for me. Those in power judge those without it, and content of character doesn’t mean shit.”
“Like you would know.” He laughs darkly. “Hello, I am actually the night janitor. In the space of two weeks, I went from being this department’s golden boy to being the butt of all its jokes. All because I got suspended for doing something that instead should have gotten me a freaking award. Don’t act like you know what that’s like, and I certainly wouldn’t want to inconvenience your career for something as stupid as a relationship.”
“You have no idea. Don’t dare assume you know what I’ve been through.”
“Oh, yeah? Like what?”
Blinking wildly, his body language is yelling a dare to me. Before I even realize the mess I’ve gotten myself into, I develop truth Tourette’s.
“I can’t screw up Manderson, because I shouldn’t have gotten in to begin with. I didn’t go to a single class my whole last year at Colorado unless there was a test or a quiz. I barely passed. And do you know why I couldn’t go? Because I spent most of my junior year screwing one of my professors. Then, when everyone found out, it didn’t matter that I’d spent the first three years setting the curve in all of my classes, or all of the awards I won. All anyone knew was that I was the girl who must have slept her way to a 4.0. When I could barely pass the last year, it was just confirmed in everyone’s eyes. I’m sorry, Hawk, I really am, but I just can’t do the whole scandalous relationship thing again, even if the scandal might be stupid. I need to focus, and I need to prove that I’m worth my place here. Because I am worthy, a lot more than many of the upper-crust, privately tutored, raised by a nanny rich kids here whose daddy will make sure they’ll be millionaires by the time they’re thirty no matter what. I have nothing except my brain to rely on, but that’s just fine by me. Because I’m one of the best fucking mathematical minds at Manderson, make no mistake, and I intend to prove it to everyone.”
“Really? That’s really what’s holding you back?” He dares to look incredulous, but I nod. “Wow, Robin, you are stupid.”
I blink twice. “Excuse me?”
“You’re stupid,” he repeats as he walks my way. “Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as sexy as you telling me you’re one of the best fucking minds at Manderson.”
He stops just inches from me, his fingers keying the air at his waist.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” he declares, “deep, hard, and long. And I’m going to kiss you like that every time I see you, so you might as well get used to it.”
“What are you talking about? Did you hear anything I just—“
Hawk delivers on his warning. His lips crash to mine, muffling my argument. His mouth takes possession of mine, and my senses go wild. Suddenly, I can’t remember why I even came here, or figure out why a moment ago I was ready to leave. His hands encircle my arms, keeping me locked before him. I try to wrestle back control, if only to wrap my arms around him. Instead, he deepens our kiss, and I feel the first pulse of yearning awaken within me, sending a warning signal out to my higher brain functions.
I know how quickly things can get out of hand, especially in an empty classroom, so I begin to gently coax him back, disengaging his pursuit. He’s breathless when at last he puts enough distance between us to open his eyes and take me in. We plunge back into reality when at last we pull apart, both panting and wide-eyed. Placing his hand under my chin, he leans his forehead against mine.
“Let’s skip to the part where I’ve already asked you out and you’ve already said yes.”
I lick my lips. “What?”
“We’ll keep it to ourselves, if that makes you feel better,” he says. “But don’t expect to stand there and be so damned determined and sexy and not expect me to go crazy over you. Robin, you’re not like anyone else I’ve met before. But why do you hold back? This spirit you have? It’s magnificent. No wonder you could wade through a valley of crap like that at Colorado and still come out resplendent. I can’t wait to see what you do here. You’re going to have everyone under your command.”
My head cocks to the side. “I am?”
Hawk takes my hands into his and dots a fleeting kiss to my lips. “Yes, you are. After all, you already have me.”
ّ±7
In mathematics, rational numbers are any number that can be expressed as the quotient or fraction p/q of two integers, with the denominator q not equal to zero. One over two is, therefore, a rational number, even though being half of anything right now seems the most irrational thing I can think of. I have to stay focused. I also know that nature does not favor isolation. If I keep things in check, I can both be a great student and have a social life, right?
I consider the next few days a challenge. This is my test, to see if I can control my desire to spend time with Hawk enough to keep at my classes. We set a date for the following Wednesday, and I ask for his understanding that we don’t see each other until then. I have another presentation at an elementary school on Tuesday, and a project is due Monday afternoon to Prof. Harrison. I manage to stay away from the Yang building for the weekend and work from home, turn what I hope is a compelling project in on Monday, and give an Outreach presentation on Tuesday afternoon to the fourth grade class at Trimble Elementary.
“And was it easier?” Hawk asks me on the phone. Technically, he’s still respecting my request to delay seeing me, but that doesn’t keep him from calling after he’s finished teaching his class.
“I think so,” I answer, “but then again, I didn’t have an occasion to implement your two-point counterattack. Mrs. Magliazzi’s students were the picture of perfection.”
“Good to hear, though I’m tempted to run a few more bully drills with you. Your comeback had me stopping dead in my tracks.” I hear the smile in his voice as I feel my cheeks blush over, remembering our first kiss. “Any thoughts on what you’d like to do tonight?”
A consideration I hadn’t made before suddenly occurs to me. “Wait, don’t you have to work?”
“I traded a shift with the afternoon janitor. He’ll take my night shift.”
Sitting in my office, I look up from my book as though I expect him to be standing right in front of me. “So you’re working in Yang right n
ow?”
I suspect he’s trying to hide it, but I’m pretty sure I hear him laugh. “Later on. Afternoon shift runs from one to seven. If you’d like, I can come by early and we can make it a lunch date.”
Even though I’m tempering myself and didn’t plan to see him until tonight, and even though I’m really tempted to go against my own self-imposed limitation, another obstacle lies in the way. “I have class at twelve-fifteen, then study groups for qualifying exams until five.”
“Qualifying exams?” He repeats the phrase like a new vocabulary term. “You’d only need to take qualifying exams if you’re planning on staying on for a PhD. I thought you wanted to go into industry.”
“I do,” I assure him. “But some of the other students I’ve spoken with said I’m more likely to snag an advisor if I sign up to take them. They said some of the faculty don’t like to take on students that they think will only be hanging around for another year or two.”
He hums his agreement. “That’s true, I guess. And if you pass and change your mind … Well, you know the saying: better to ask for forgiveness than permission.”
“Yup.”
There’s a pause, and I wonder if the cell signal’s dropped until I hear his voice pick up again. “Okay, same game plan then. I’m going to run back to my place after my shift to change into something a little more presentable. I’ll pick you up from your place at eight?”
“Sounds good, see you then.”
I’m only half-present in Prof. Peter Harrison’s class, as my mind has detached from my body and is running through possibilities of what Hawk and I might get into later. My eyes chance upon the clock above the door when I notice there’s only a few minutes of class remaining. Panicked, I snap to attention and look on the whiteboard. I’ve been jotting down the occasional note, as well as responding the few times Prof. Harrison’s called on me, but for the most part I’ve spent the entire session on autopilot. Graduate classes aren’t like my undergraduate ones; I’m not in a classroom with a few hundred students. There’s only twenty of us here. I’m hoping my distractedness had gone unnoticed, and trying to rationalize why this doesn’t mean my test of self-restraint has failed, when I hear Prof. Harrison speak.
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