How to Fail at Flirting

by Denise Williams

  “Do you need me to explain why Anita shouldn’t represent us? She will fight change tooth and nail. That approach will not work here, not with this president.” He gave me a level stare. He wasn’t wrong. “I need someone who can play the game, and the president wants some pre-tenure voices in the room, anyway.”

  I agreed when he threatened to come back to work and do it himself. Joe would go to bat for me, no questions asked—he had, time and time again. I couldn’t let him stew about this or try to rush his recovery by going back too soon. I agreed to take his place and hoped he couldn’t see through the false confidence in my voice. To do: Figure out how to divulge my conflict of interest without making myself a liability or causing Joe more stress.

  * * *

  A week later, I sat at a long conference table in the president’s suite. I tapped my fingers on the mahogany and glanced around as the room filled. No one spoke. They chose seats and tried to look busy, everyone on their phones.

  Jake: Stop worrying. It will be fine.

  Naya: How did you know I was worrying?

  Jake: I know you. Maybe picture everyone in their underwear.

  Jake: Although, I’m not sure the image of Flip in tighty-whities is going to ease your mind.

  Naya: I dunno. He’s not bad looking for an older guy.

  Jake: Whatever makes you happy. Tell me about it later.

  Jake: The meeting. Not your, I assume explicit, fantasy about Flip in skivvies.

  I smiled to myself, took a deep breath, and stilled my fingers. It doesn’t matter that I’m one of the youngest, least-experienced, and lowest-paid people in the room. I am qualified to be here.

  Jill from the accounting department walked in and shared a brief smile with me, but she took one of the few available seats on the other side of the room near Doug. He’d been a good friend of Davis’s and was a member of the president’s cabinet. Though he’d never done anything specific to me, their association gave me the creeps. President Lewis made eye contact with each of the twenty people around the room as he spoke. “Welcome, everyone. Thank you for coming.”

  I settled back into my chair. Here goes nothing.

  “We’ll have a few others joining us, but let’s get started.”

  Fifteen minutes later, we’d been given our charge. We were to speak candidly with the consultants about our opinions on some early findings they’d unearthed. President Lewis concluded by saying, “I can’t promise you’ll all be happy with every decision, but it’s important to me you are here.”

  I glanced down at my agenda. I’d told Jake about my spot on the committee, and he’d offered to tell Flip about our relationship, but I knew I should be the one to do it. I planned to talk with him about the conflict at the end of the meeting. His secretary had indicated he would have fifteen minutes, and that I should walk with him back to his office before he left the country on a fundraising trip. I figured that would give me time to exit gracefully if he removed me from the group.

  The imposing wooden door swung open with a loud creak, and all heads turned to stare at the latecomer sauntering in. He was tall, in his late forties, and wore an expensive-looking suit with a sharp red tie. No, no, no. I was afraid to look up to his face, but it didn’t matter. I’d recognize that cocky swagger anywhere.

  He took the chair across from me, pulling materials from his briefcase. My body went cold, and my foot bounced at full speed under the table. There was no quick way out of the room, and his proximity triggered an urge to run.

  The president stopped to ask Davis to introduce himself.

  “Sorry for my tardiness. I am Davis Garner, formerly—” He paused for a minute as his eyes met mine across the table. His eyes flicked down and up over my chest. “Former professor in the business school. I’m in administration at State now.”

  Around the room, some murmured hello and others gave him wide smiles, and the president continued with a nod. I tried to face him, but my gaze wandered back to Davis, who was eyeing me with his head tilted.

  The president spoke for another fifteen minutes, providing context for what would be asked of us before opening for questions from the group. I noticed Davis thumbing at his phone. A chill ran through me and lingered as I felt my own device buzz in my pocket. I didn’t dare pull it out for fear of what I might see on the screen.

  I packed my things quickly. I wanted to get to the president before he was mobbed. I even got to my feet, but was stopped by a hand on my arm.

  “I’m surprised to see you here. I thought it would only be senior people.” The smug, clipped baritone of his voice hadn’t changed.

  I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before I turned. He can’t hurt me here. Be professional and get the hell out. “Hello, Davis.”

  “You look good,” he said, scanning my body again, this time moving down to my black high heels and all the way back up.

  I turned to face the president again, but before I could speak, Davis spoke up. “Flip. So sorry I was late, but it’s great to see you!” He smiled warmly at the president, who returned his smile and joined us. The warmth between them only chilled me further—I had no idea what game Davis was playing.

  “Glad you made it,” the older man said, clapping Davis on the shoulder. “And you’re Naya Turner, right? Taking Joe’s place?”

  I nodded, extending one slightly trembling hand. My voice had gone somewhere, I wasn’t sure where, but I couldn’t find it.

  “She’s come a long way from the little student who followed me around,” Davis joked with the president.

  “Ah, so you’re an alum as well as a faculty member?”

  “I—uh—no.” I figured out Davis’s game, and I mentally scrambled to reestablish my footing. “We met a year after I started working here. I was never a student here.” And I never followed this asshole around.

  Davis tipped his head to the side. “Are you sure? I could have sworn . . .” He tucked one hand casually in his pocket and scratched his chin with the other, as if trying to recall something important.

  “Quite sure.”

  “Oh well,” Davis said, jovially. “You still look just as young as you did back then.” He rested a heavy palm on my shoulder, and I bit back the instinct to knee him in the groin while pulling away, creating more space between us. “Shouldn’t we all be so lucky, right, Flip?”

  The two exchanged a laugh, and my pulse beat in my ears. Great. Years of work to build up my reputation, and he makes me sound like an eighth grader with one comment.

  When someone pulled the president’s attention from us, Davis leaned closer to me and whispered near my ear, “Did your legs look this good when you were following me around?”

  His breath made my stomach churn.

  I opened my mouth to respond, but he flicked his eyes over my body again and then back up to my face before I could. “We’ll catch up soon, pretty girl.” He winked, leaving me slack-jawed and feeling like I needed to shower.

  “Flip, can I steal you for a minute?” Davis stepped around me and led President Lewis toward the door.

  The older man paused and looked over his shoulder. “Dr. Turner, I know you wanted to tell me something. I’m late for a flight—please just email me.” He smiled and waved before leaving the room with Davis. I should have asked for a brief minute, or at the very least, I should have said something, but my voice had gone into hiding again, and I had no idea how to craft the email saying what I wanted to say. Maybe I’ll just wait until he’s back in the country and we can meet in person.

  Thirty-four

  When I escaped the room, a bead of sweat trickling down my back and no closer to admitting my relationship with Jake, I unlocked my phone to see two texts from Davis.

  Unknown: Good you aren’t asking questions. You’re much more appealing when you stay silent.

  Unknown: Let me know if
you need reminders on how to do that.

  Pressing my lips together, I gripped the phone to my chest. No. No. No. No. Davis being involved in this project meant a whole new array of sharp objects was dangling precariously over me. He wouldn’t hesitate to suggest cuts to spite me or the things I cared about. Worse, if he ever found out about me and Jake, he’d try to destroy their company. I knew he would. Davis took any inch of power and control and stretched it to his advantage. He warped the truth and cornered people until they bent to him. I couldn’t let him corner Jake.

  * * *

  “That goddamn, fucking, shit-eating motherfucker!” Felicia’s reaction was exactly what I needed to hear as I drove away from campus after the meeting, up to and including this string of expletives. This was a situation where I needed mutual outrage.

  “Exactly.”

  “Who does that? What is his deal? Does he have a small dick? It sounds like he has a small dick.”

  I laughed, despite wanting to cry. “He’s definitely got something to prove.” I clenched the steering wheel. “Ugh, and the way he looked at me, Fel? I wanted to throw up.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  My frustration was a throbbing pressure point between my eyes. “I have no idea. The president said to email him, but I already have to tell the man I’m sleeping with one of the consultants. I don’t want to complain at the same time that the external committee member he hand selected is a lecherous creep. Oh, and someone who I also used to sleep with. I can’t put that all in writing, let alone dredge up everything from back then—I don’t think anyone would believe me. It’s been too long. They’ll think I should just be over it by now.”

  “Nay, you’re not over it. Who cares about should be?”

  I nodded, wishing she was right but also fighting back tears, because I could see people like Anita shaking their heads and telling me it was my fault. If I could put up with him on my own, I wouldn’t have to face more of their judgment. “No, it’s too late for that.”

  “But if they knew about Davis and what he did—”

  “I just have to deal with him. I did it before. I can do it again.” I hope.

  Felicia’s silence spoke volumes. She disapproved of my solution. “Are you going to tell Jake?”

  “No.” I didn’t want to chance him intervening and things getting worse, and I knew he would intervene. “I’m not telling anyone else.”

  “You sure?” Felicia asked. “He should know, Nay.”

  I’d managed this alone for so long, I didn’t know how to tell Jake. The idea of coming clean, sharing every shameful thing with him, turned my stomach. Telling him I was still allowing it to happen was out of the question. Felicia was right, but something held me back, some deep-seated urge to keep myself protected. “I’m sure.”

  “Goddamn, fucking, shit-eating motherfucker,” Felicia muttered on the other end of the phone.

  Thirty-five

  Jake flew into Midway on Saturday night, and I greeted him with a sign reading “Captain Calculus.” It had been a few days since the meeting, and I willed myself to pack away the wild array of emotions I was feeling. That was a little easier the moment I saw Jake, and thirty minutes after stumbling through the door of my apartment, we huddled together, on the rug next to my couch.

  “You should remind me of all the reasons I should only recruit clients in Chicago.” Jake toyed with the hem of my skirt. The same skirt he’d pushed up my hips when he’d pulled me down on top of him.

  “You didn’t get this kind of welcome in Boston?” I teased, tickling at his ribs.

  “This is a uniquely Chicago greeting.” He trailed his finger down the side of my face, then added, his voice softer, “I missed you.”

  His eyes took in every inch of me, every curve and flaw, until I glanced away.

  He gently pushed my chin up so my eyes met his again. “Why do you do that? Every time I look into your eyes, you look away.”

  My cheeks heated. “I don’t.”

  “You do.”

  “Just a habit, I guess.”

  “Did some horrible boy in middle school tease you in a failed attempt at flirting and make you wary of male attention?” A grin emerged on his face.

  “Would you go beat him up for me?”

  “Of course. Unless he’s a really big guy now, in which case I would write him a strongly worded email.”

  His smile faded back into a serious expression. “Does it bother you? I can try to stop.”

  “No.”

  Jake stared at me with this intensity sometimes, like he could see into my head.

  “It’s nothing,” I insisted.

  He remained silent but continued to rub his thumb over the back of my neck in long, slow sweeps. He’d told me about his past; perhaps Felicia was right, and it was time to be a little brave.

  “I’d been at TU for a year as a new professor. I was young, green, eager. Anyway, I met this guy, another professor; he was older, good-looking, well respected on campus.” I tried to think back to how I’d initially seen him. “We started dating. And it was good.” I paused, gazing down at the floor, trying to remember the signs I should have seen in those early months. “For a while it was good.” I glanced up, but Jake’s expression was inscrutable. “We were together a little over two years, but he wasn’t always kind; he—”

  “Did he hurt you?” Jake’s muscles tensed.

  “He . . .” I touched his forearm, bracing myself for the admission and deciding how much to share. “He wasn’t kind. He could be aggressive and . . . cruel.”

  “Did he hit you?”

  I dug my nails into my palms, remembering the rough shoves into walls, the sting of slaps, and how I’d curl up into a tight ball in his bed when he’d finished. “It doesn’t matter.”

  That shame I’d internalized over the years was a chill spreading across my back like the scrape of long, bony fingers. I didn’t want to be a victim, especially not in front of Jake, so I pushed the thoughts aside. I shuddered, hoping he wouldn’t notice, hoping I could keep the emotions tucked away until I was alone.

  He held me tighter, though—of course he noticed.

  “Sometimes he hit me and . . . other stuff; it was a long time ago.”

  Jake looked away from my face, a muscle in his jaw ticked, and his hands had balled into fists at my sides as he seemed to struggle with what to say.

  My stomach knotted with his reaction. The last thing I could handle was pity on his face or confusion about why I’d stayed with Davis so long. I didn’t know the answers. I’d convinced myself it wasn’t abuse. I was educated, and I thought I knew better, so what was happening was something else. I’d thought it would get better, and when it didn’t, it was too late. I’d started to believe his lies, that I needed him. By the time I stopped believing the lies, I believed the threats.

  “I finally ended it. I was terrified, but we were in a public space, and I just said I was done.” I didn’t tell Jake how I’d been so anxious beforehand I’d been sick in the bathroom and almost chickened out, that when I actually said the words, that I was leaving, my voice had been broken and shaky and I’d braced for him to strike.

  “What happened?” Jake asked the question like he didn’t want to know the answer, voice thick and gruff.

  “He told me he’d hurt me, humiliate me, and that I’d regret it. I thought he meant physically. Somehow, he knew killing my career would hurt me more than anything he could do to my body. So, that’s what he did.”

  Jake nodded more emphatically, his gaze returning to my face. “That’s why you’re so concerned about your reputation at work.”

  I nodded, deciding not to tell him about the texts. The photos and messages were too real a reminder of what I’d been through. “He took every opportunity to use the power he had to make sure people thought the worst of me. He shared my pho
ne number and photo on some website for people looking for kinky sex. These guys kept harassing me, and I had to change my number. I’m pretty sure some of my students found out.” I rubbed my hands over my upper arms. “It was bad. He left campus a year later, but the damage was done. I was a joke . . . and I was always looking over my shoulder. It was like he was still controlling me without touching me.”

  I locked eyes with Jake, and he nodded, urging me to continue, his fingers lacing with mine. I took a deep breath, pushing myself to say the thing I’d feared all those years, to show vulnerability. “When you look at me like that, I feel like you can see . . .” I gulped in a series of shallow breaths, glanced down at our hands, and then looked back to his face. “Like you can see everything, and . . . I’m ashamed.”

  Jake pulled our linked hands to his face and slowly kissed each of my knuckles. Finally, his voice cut into the tension. “It’s not your fault. Please don’t feel ashamed. I don’t know if I see everything, but when I look at you, I see so much. If it’s in my power, you’ll never feel helpless like that again.”

  Those memories had been replaying in my head for so many years, I couldn’t imagine forgetting that helpless feeling. I knew if I told Jake that Davis was on the committee, Jake would try to fix the problem, and there was no way for him to do that without everything becoming more complicated. I worried I’d already said too much and he’d figure out it was Davis. When he didn’t ask, though, I didn’t say a word, instead choosing to let that part of the story remain untold. I would tell him eventually.

  Thirty-six

  Curry Palace is up the street, or we could go Italian if you want.”

  The next evening, we were sprawled on my couch trying to decide what to do for dinner. My feet were resting in Jake’s lap while we watched a rerun of Law and Order. All of it felt so incredibly couply and domestic, part of me wanted to snap a selfie to remember the moment.