Swagger

by Liz Lincoln

  He looked over at her and found her watching him, her expression almost contemplative as she chewed a bite of her salad. Another blast of heat surged through him and his skin felt tight and alive. His body felt restless, much like it did in the excitement before the first few games each year, before he settled into the season.

  But it was more than that too. Which was why he wanted to know her, see what it could become. Even if they couldn’t explore anything more than friendship until the semester was over.

  She broke eye contact first, turning to ask Tomás if Dr. Bryant was in a good mood.

  “Bryant…He’s technically the professor for my class, right?” Marcus shot a glance at Bree as he took a bite of his sandwich.

  Tomás made a disgusted face, while Reina made a noise that might have been a growl. Bree’s whole body stiffened.

  Marcus looked back and forth between them. He was clearly missing something. “Who is this guy?” His assistant coach in high school had drawn the same reaction from every player on the team. But these three likely didn’t hate Bryant because he screamed at them that they would never be real men or made them run sprints if they messed up.

  “Bryant is my advisor and Tomás works for him,” Bree explained stiffly. “He didn’t secure enough grant funding to pay me for my last semester, so he’s having me teach his class to earn my money. Usually you’re done teaching after two or three semesters of grad school. But yes, technically he is the professor for the class.”

  “He’s also just generally an asshole,” Tomás added.

  “And an old-fashioned, backward misogynist pig.” Reina’s voice still held a touch of a growl.

  “And I’m pretty sure he hates me.” Bree stared into the remains of her lunch. “He definitely resents being stuck as my advisor.”

  “You don’t get to pick who you work with? Seems like you’d want someone you get along with for something as important as your PhD.” Marcus couldn’t imagine how miserable he’d be if he were in a similar position. He’d clicked with Jerry Wardowski and his head coach from day one. He knew guys who didn’t get along with their coaches, and it made their jobs hell. He’d been fortunate to like all his coaches except for the one assistant in high school. And that guy had only lasted a year.

  Bree’s shoulders slumped at his question. “We do pick who we work with. I had a great advisor, but she got a job in France and left about a year ago.”

  “Since Bryant’s retiring at the end of the year, he didn’t have any students,” Reina added. “So the department stuck Bree with him. Asshole totally resents having to actually do work.”

  “Not to mention, he’s about the biggest sexist in a field that’s not exactly breaking ground in closing the gender gap,” Tomás said.

  Marcus knew a little about that. The NFL had a long way to go in that regard too.

  “Hey, you work for the jackass,” Reina said, bitterness coating her words.

  “I didn’t know. It’s not like he announced that he hates women during my interviews.” Tomás’ voice held a sigh, like they’d been over this before.

  “It’s just a few more months,” Bree said. “I barely see him anyway. It’ll be fine.” Her pretty face was pinched, worry lines creasing her forehead. She was more concerned than she wanted to let on.

  Again Marcus was struck with an urge to touch her. To offer comfort. Writing a doctoral dissertation had to be stressful under the best circumstances.

  “But I do have a meeting with him this afternoon, which is why I asked.”

  The conversation drifted as they ate. Marcus was content to sit back and mostly listen. Bree and Reina kept up a teasing banter that indicated they had been friends a long time.

  Eventually they were done with their food, just sitting around finishing drinks as the conversation wound down. Marcus needed to get to a Dragons meeting, then meet with the training staff about starting his PT on Monday.

  First, though, he and Bree had one matter they needed to settle. “Before we head back, there’s something I’ve been wanting to discuss with you.” He had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from smiling and giving himself away. He was trying to look serious.

  If Bree’s wide-eyed, startled look was any indication, he’d achieved it. “What’s that?”

  “I have major reservations about being taught by someone who apparently holds the massively incorrect opinion that Star Wars is somehow superior to Star Trek.”

  She stared at him, blinking, like he’d spoken in a foreign language. “I…”

  He gestured at her shirt, light blue with Rey and Leia standing back-to-back, weapons at the ready. In dark blue it read: Girls Rule the Galaxy.

  “I saw the Rey and Leia figures on your desk.” Somehow he still hadn’t cracked a smile. A small miracle, because he was grinning in his head. “A clear indication of your poor judgment, and I’m not sure I can accept you as an authority on anything.”

  She gave him a sarcastic smile and flipped a sloppy Vulcan salute. “Yeah, yeah, live long and prosper. Leonard Nimoy was God. I know. But see, when I was growing up, I was unaware that Star Trek had kick-ass female characters for impressionable young girls like me with three older brothers to look up to.”

  Now he did grin. Something different flashed across her face, then her expression went back to bored sarcasm.

  “You’ve never heard of Uhura? Not only a female, but a female of color. Or Christine Chapel? And that’s just the original series. When we were kids, we had lots of choices on Next Generation.”

  “Oh, God. Babe, we’ve died and gone to nerd hell,” Reina said, leaning toward Tomás.

  “He’s a football player. He’s not supposed to be a nerd too,” Tomás replied. “Who let this happen?”

  Ignoring them, Marcus continued. “You can’t go wrong with Kira, or Dr. Crusher. There’s also Guinan, played by the estimable Whoopi Goldberg. You’ve got—”

  “See, all this ignores the fact that my brothers weren’t pretending to be Patrick Stewart or William Shatner,” Bree interrupted. Marcus loved the way her brown eyes flashed with a mix of amusement and indignation. “They were Luke, Han, and Vader. I could either sit in the box they designated as R2-D2 or pick up a squirt gun and be Leia. That’ll make up your mind real quick.”

  “That’s absolutely fair. But part of growing up is expanding our minds.” Marcus put his hands on his head, then moved the outward, like his brain was growing. “You know, like I’m doing. You should try it. There are dozens of female role models awaiting your discovery. Captain Janeway. Dax. Love me some Dax. She’s pretty hot.”

  Bree rolled her eyes, but she was grinning now too. Marcus felt revved up in a way he hadn’t in far too long. It had been years since he verbally sparred with a woman he liked. He’d forgotten how fun it was. And how attractive it was when the woman held her own and didn’t back down.

  “Kill. Me.” Reina dropped her head onto the table.

  “I bet if we leave, they won’t even notice.” Tomás pushed back his chair.

  “You two are embarrassing,” Reina said as she rolled backward. “And we’re huge nerds.”

  “Whatever. I’ve had to listen to you two argue for hours about Batman versus Iron Man.” Bree stood, stacking her own and Marcus’ trash on her tray.

  “Iron Man doesn’t need some gadget dude to make all his cool stuff. He’s a fucking genius,” Reina said.

  Simultaneously, Tomás said in a gravelly voice, “Batman is motherfucking Batman.”

  Rolling away, Reina called over her shoulder, “Oh, nice argument.”

  Marcus dropped back into his chair; he was laughing too hard to stand.

  Bree backhanded him on the shoulder. “Thanks a lot.”

  When he looked back at her, she was smiling despite her annoyed tone. “Star Trek is better. I’ll get you watching it by the end of the semester.” He hoisted himself to his feet and set his crutches under his arms, though he really didn’t need them. He was giving it the w
eekend as a precaution, but that was it.

  He gestured for her to precede him toward the door. Partly because it was gentlemanly, and partly because he wanted a quick glance at her ass, which was decidedly ungentlemanly. But in his defense, it was a really sweet ass.

  Star Wars better than Star Trek. He shook his head as he followed her to catch up with her friends. Now besides getting to know her, he had another goal for the semester. Turn her into a Trekkie.

  Chapter 3

  How was there always more laundry to put in the hamper and more to fold and put away? At some point, shouldn’t at least some of Bree’s clothes be clean and in her dresser? It never felt like it.

  Both busy finishing their dissertations, Bree and Reina had given up almost entirely on cleaning. Their small house was a disaster.

  Eric and Kevin, two other postdocs, would be over for their weekly poker game in an hour, so she had to make at least a small effort to clean the living and dining rooms. Tomás was on his way with takeout for Bree and Reina before the other two arrived. The Texas-raised son of Mexican immigrants, he’d scoped out the most authentic Mexican restaurants in Milwaukee.

  Bree got on her hands and knees to pull a dirty sock out from under the couch. As she crouched, a small body bumped against her hip. “Marow,” Diablo said.

  She sat back on her heels and scratched her large black-and-white tuxedo cat behind the ears. He stretched into her hand and meeped his approval.

  “What’s up, buddy?” She stroked along his back, the motion soothing. He put his front paws on her knees, arching into her hand. Glutton. “Hey, can you pick up your toys so the guys don’t trip on them?”

  She shouldn’t care so much if their place was a disaster. She’d been to the apartment Kevin and Eric shared. It made her place look immaculate. And they understood everything else took a back burner to finishing the dissertation. Still, she should at least collect dirty underwear and apple cores. And they had to keep the floors free of clutter so Reina didn’t run into or crush anything. Her wheelchair had destroyed its fair share of cat toys.

  Bree took the armload of dirty clothes to her room—she really should stop getting dressed in common areas—then returned to the living room as her phone started ringing. Caller ID displayed the word Dad.

  Sighing internally, Bree swiped right to answer. “Hey, Dad.”

  “How’s my baby Bree?”

  Bree’s jaw clenched at the nickname. She was twenty-seven. Hardly a baby. As the youngest child, maybe the nickname wouldn’t burn so much if they didn’t treat her like she was still in diapers and needed handholding. “I’m good, Dad. How are you?”

  As her father chatted about his recent physical and the results, she connected her headphones and slid the phone into her pocket so she could talk and clean at the same time. She didn’t need all the details, so she collected pizza crusts and dirty dishes while saying, “That’s great,” from time to time.

  She was so tuned out of the conversation it almost didn’t register when he changed the subject. “I’ve got some exciting news for you.”

  “Umm-hum,” she murmured, thinking he might tell her what his liver function labs showed.

  “Renee Dorsey is having a baby in February.” Her father’s voice practically vibrated with pleasure. As if he were the one about to have a child.

  Who the hell was Renee Dorsey? Did her brother Drew have a girlfriend he hadn’t told her about, and now she was knocked up? She was going to kill him for not even mentioning it. “Who’s Renee Dorsey?”

  “She’s the physics and chemistry teacher at school.”

  Since lunch with Marcus earlier that day, Bree had been in a good mood. Even better, Bryant had canceled their meeting, so she’d been able to come home and relax and relive the geeky flirtation while giving herself a few hours off from her dissertation. Now it felt like that entire good mood had dropped to the floor and landed with a splat. Much like her mood, Bree slumped to the couch.

  Not this again.

  “She’s already told the district she isn’t planning to come back after the baby’s born, not the rest of this year or next year. So there’s an opening.”

  “I’m not—”

  “I talked to Joe, and he thinks we would be able to hire you as a long-term substitute in February without your teaching license. And as long as you start working toward it, they could probably hire you as the full-time replacement next fall.”

  Bree swallowed a scream of frustration. This was at least the dozenth time her dad had tried to get her a job teaching high school physics. He and her middle brother, Silas, both taught gym and coached football in the area where she grew up, outside Madison. And somehow both had gotten it in their heads that she should teach too. After all, women could be teachers, but they really didn’t belong in boys’ clubs like academic physics.

  “Dad, can you please listen—”

  “Bree,” her father interrupted. A louder, clearer no than the word itself. “You finish your physics thing in December, that’s what Mom told me. So you can enroll in the education classes you’ll need starting next semester. The timing couldn’t be better.”

  “Maybe, if I wanted to be a teacher. But I don’t. I don’t want to move back to Verona and live down the street from Silas and Julie and raise babies and teach high school or be a nurse.” Her mom was a nurse in radiation oncology and had initially encouraged Bree in that direction. But once Bree showed a passion for physics, specifically medical physics, Morganne Novak had let the idea go and encouraged her daughter to pursue the path she wanted.

  At least one person in her family got it.

  “Please stop ignoring me on this. I don’t know how to say it any more clearly than that, or by getting a doctorate in physics and not nursing or teaching.” Angry tears burned behind her eyes and frustration clogged her throat. For more than ten years, she’d been dealing with him and her two oldest brothers trying to manipulate her career and her life. She was so tired of it. It was no coincidence she was looking at postdoc positions far from Wisconsin and her family.

  “We just want what’s best for you,” he said tightly.

  “No, you want what you think is best for me. It’s not the same thing.” She couldn’t keep the emotion out of her voice. She hated when she couldn’t keep herself under control. Her dad immediately latched onto it like she was a hysterical female who needed her daddy to fix things. He didn’t understand that he was the problem.

  “Bree, just calm down.” His tone was patronizing. “Let’s not get all worked up over something so trivial.”

  Trivial? It was her career. Her entire damn life. It was not fucking trivial. And when in the history of the universe had telling someone to calm down resulted in them actually calming down?

  “I’m a dad. I want what’s best for my kids. Always. And I know how high strung you get about these things.”

  If she could reach through the phone and punch him, she probably would. On the plus side, she no longer felt the panic crushing her chest. Now she was livid.

  But it was no use explaining the difference between overreacting because she was flaky and having her clinical anxiety triggered. She’d done it many times. Life with her dad was often a broken record. She loved him, but he exhausted her.

  “OK, I can tell you’re getting out of hand. No more talking about work stuff. What are your weekend plans?”

  Bree filled her lungs with mildly calming breaths, trying to get her racing heart under control. When her anxiety got triggered, it wasn’t as easy for her to switch gears as it was for other people.

  “We have our Friday night poker game soon. The rest of the weekend, I’ll mostly be working.” Diablo hopped onto the couch and settled himself next to Bree’s leg. She stroked his soft head. It further soothed her frazzled nerves. She rested her head on the cushion behind her and closed her eyes.

  “Gonna watch the game Sunday? Should be a good one.”

  Her heart thumped in her chest for a diffe
rent reason. At this rate, she’d be in the ER for cardiac arrest by bedtime. “I will.” Marcus’ face, with his wide grin and that sexy dimple, filled her head. Arguing with him about Star Wars versus Star Trek over lunch had energized her in a way she hadn’t been in longer than she could remember. Reina had teased her mercilessly about it when they got back to their office. Totally worth it.

  Thinking about Marcus was enough of a distraction to ease the choking sensation in her throat. She drew in a deep breath, holding it in her lungs before letting it out slowly. Often, the best way for her to tackle her anxiety when it got bad was distraction. Which was inconvenient when the trigger was her dissertation.

  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell her dad about Marcus being in her class. But the words didn’t come out. She wasn’t in the mood to share fun things with her dad today.

  “Get out and go somewhere to watch the game with a couple friends. You’re working too hard. It’s not healthy to stay home all the time.”

  Just like that, the anger and frustration were back. He just couldn’t stop himself, could he? Her fist clenched until she accidentally squeezed the back of Diablo’s neck and he yelped. Bree smoothed her hand over his back and leaned over to kiss him. “Sorry, buddy,” she whispered.

  To her dad, she said, “I don’t have time for much in the next few months. But poker tonight is social. It’s not just me and Reina.”

  “How are you going to meet someone if you don’t get out?”

  Where had this come from? She was at least used to him getting on her case about her career and about being too “high strung,” but now he was going after her dating life?

  “When your mom was your age, Hank was three and she was pregnant with Silas.”

  “Good for her.” She didn’t bother holding back the sarcasm.

  “Your mom ran into Stefon’s mom.”

  Despite the more than five years since she’d seen the man she’d once thought she’d spend her life with, his name still hit her like a punch to the gut. Speaking of men who’d tried to control and manipulate her career path. Her reaction to his name was residual resentment, not any lingering affection she felt for the man. Betrayal did that to a person.