by Lisa Swallow
“The last one?”
Shaun rubs my arm. “See, you’re smiling again already, even without the fancy teas.”
Hand on my arm. On my bare skin. Smooth fingers shooting lightning through my body at the place his hand rests a moment too long. My breath catches in my throat and I search his face for a sign this was deliberate.
Shaun’s flecked green eyes don’t hold back his thoughts and I’m caught sharing my own. He knows. He’s recognised the girlish fumbling with my bag, the way I trip over my words with him the days we meet.
Shaun’s noticed me.
“I tell you what, why don’t I take you for a coffee, I mean tea, at Sip,” he suggests.
Sip, the coffee shop far enough from campus we won’t be seen. A thrill runs through me, filling my stomach with excitement at the illicitness. Shaun Hennessy is asking me for coffee.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure, Fleur.”
Suddenly the space between is charged with the power that tripped from his fingers to my skin before. Are we about to cross a dangerous line?
No, somebody who has an ounce of respect for me and doesn’t only look for what he can get is interested. In me.
“Okay.”
Shaun leans past me and grabs his phone from the table. I catch his subtle, clean scent, the one I associate with time alone with Shaun in this room and could associate with more. If more happens.
“I think Samantha must be an anarchist,” he says as we step out of the building into the bright autumn day.
“That’s a weird thing to say. I didn’t realise she was political.”
“No, the tea. Anarchists only drink herbal tea.” He smiles down at my confused look. “Because all proper tea is theft.”
I’m confused for a moment then catch onto his joke. Property. This man… Even his jokes are intelligent. “Very philosophical.”
The polar opposite of a man who says he wants to fuck me.
****
An hour at Sip with Shaun passes in the blink of an eye. Eyes. Searching, green eyes of a sexy Irish guy. As I drink and listen to his stories of his time at Oxford, I’m distracted and confused. I shouldn’t be attracted to this man. I am, but we’re semi-taboo. He’s not strictly speaking a professor, but he does teach and he is my supervisor.
I veer the direction of our conversation towards twentieth century European History, and my dissertation. This is his research area, the reason we’re partnered, and the respectful attention he gives my interpretations boosts my confidence. I can complete a Doctorate of my own and bury myself in history books. Anne is horrified at the thought, but I’m happy to stay in academia for life.
What a contrast to my last semi-date here.
We walk back to campus; the butterflies came with me on our coffee not-a-date and they continue their spiralling through my stomach on the way back to his office. Nate’s attempt to drag me back to the other night by confronting me earlier is all but forgotten, eclipsed by an afternoon with Shaun.
“I’m happy for you to use my library,” says Shaun as we reach the edge of campus.
“Your book collection is very impressive, but I can do most of my research online.”
“The youth of today!” He makes a tutting sound.
“Excuse me? You’re two years older than me!”
Shaun nudges me in the side with his elbow. “I prefer books. Nothing like curling up in bed with a nice, big history book.”
“Laptops are warmer on cold winters’ nights.”
“I share my bed; I don’t need warming up.” Shaun looks ahead, hands in pockets.
The butterflies squish under a large, heavy weight. “Oh.”
“Because I have a cat.” Shaun pushes open the door to the building housing his office.
“Do you?”
“Not a girlfriend, Fleur.”
Why are we talking about this? I can’t reply. And by not replying, I’m indicating I’m bothered. I need to speak.
“Or a boyfriend?” I ask, voice light as we head into his room.
Shaun halts and I almost bump into him. Slowly, he turns back. He rubs his long fingers along his lips and doesn’t step away. The energy is there again, pulling me towards him.
“Do you think I’m gay?”
“I don’t know. Makes no difference to me.”
“It doesn’t?”
“No.”
Following what I suspect is a well-practiced smoulder, he says, “If I was gay, I wouldn’t want to kiss you.”
Holy crapballs. Sometimes, we want something so much and suddenly it’s there for the taking. And at that point, what seemed like a really great idea is terrifying and a bad idea. Like bungee jumping. Or skydiving.
Or kissing your kind-of tutor.
To my relief, he doesn’t edge any closer. Possibly, because my expression has transformed into one of a horrified teen whose lust for her idol became a possibility.
I grapple behind me for the door handle. “I think I should go.”
“Shit. Sorry. I thought…” Shaun drags a hand through his wavy hair. “I’m poor at reading signals. You’re only interested in my brains and witty humour, aren’t you?”
“No. Yes. No. Thank you. Sorry.”
Silly, teen Fleur backs out of the door and shoots out of the building before her rock star of a history tutor can say or do anything to change her mind.
Chapter Seventeen
FLEUR
Anne dumps a bowl of ice cream on the table in front of me and hands over a spoon.
“What’s going on?”
I put down my pen. “Nothing. Studying.”
“All day, every day for the last three? This is what you do when you’re upset. So, what happened?”
“I’m busy, that’s all. I want to work ahead on my dissertation.”
So I can finish it sooner and not be tempted by the wiles of Shaun.
She sits. “Is this because of Nate?”
“Nate? Really? Why would that bother me?”
“He embarrassed you. I know you hate being the focus of attention. Plus, you were starting to like Nate and -”
“I was not!”
“Mmm hmm.” Anne picks up the spoon. “You eating this or can I have it?”
I push the bowl across the table. “‘Mm hmm’ what?”
“You talked about him a lot. ‘In group today Nate said this’ ‘guess what Nate did today’ ‘I wonder if Nate –”
“Shut up!”
“Even Jake noticed.”
Get out clause incoming. “Jake? Your ex?”
Anne grabs the bowl and hugs it to her chest. “Yes. So I need this.”
“Like you’re bothered about losing him!”
“I am!” She sucks the spoon. “A bit. The right bits. He gave great head.”
“Ohmigod!” I stare at the laptop, willing myself not to blush.
“You’re funny. I bet Nate could’ve taught you a thing or two.”
“Can we stop talking about Nate?”
“Who is this sulking about then?”
Can I tell Anne? But what is there to tell? She hardly knows who Shaun is since she’s studying economics. “There’s this guy I like…”
“And he doesn’t like you?”
“I don’t know. I mean he said he wanted to kiss me.”
“The bastard!” she laughs. “Why didn’t you?”
“I don’t know if I should.”
Anne puts the bowl down. “Is he with somebody else?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“What’s the problem? Did his IQ test come back too low?”
I throw my pen at her. “No. he is smart. And attractive.”
“And?”
“A postgrad student who’s supervising my dissertation.”
“Aha! Ticks all your boxes.”
“But I can’t, can I? He’s staff and I’m a student.”
“It’s not like he’s some old dude making you sleep with him to give you a decent grade, I doubt that
matters. Or is he?”
“He’s not an old dude, and has no influence on my grades.”
“I’ve no idea how the history department operates, but sounds to me like you’ve nothing to worry about.”
“I guess he’s not officially staff.” Shaun lectures occasionally and teaches a couple of classes, but most postgrads do.
“Sounds like you’ve been trying to convince yourself. Who is he?”
“Shaun Hennessy.”
“Never heard of him. I think you should kiss him though. And more.” She waggles her eyebrows at me. “Show Nate that history academics are far superior to rock stars.” With a shake of her head, she scrapes the remaining ice cream from the bowl.
And we’re back to Nate again.
Is Anne right? I’ve avoided Shaun since the other day, but I can’t keep away forever. I have a meeting scheduled with him for Friday, I need to ensure I have plenty to talk about to distract me from the bigger issue at hand. What I’d like him to do with his hands.
****
WILL
I stare at my graded history paper on the table in front of me. Seventy-two percent. Fucking hell. Maybe I have the smarts after all. Pride is mingled with the relief I’m a step further away from failing. Nate’s grade is seventy-three percent; and of course, he behaves as if I’m eating his dust.
I wouldn’t have achieved this without Fleur’s help; that’s a guarantee. Not only has she taught me long-forgotten study habits, but Fleur also manages to teach me to understand things I never have before.
I miss her.
This dumbass, lying idiot misses her.
Raised voices carry from upstairs, the girl’s louder in the argument, and Nate screws his face up. “Why does Jax fucking bother?”
“He’s in love. I guess if you don’t feel passionately about someone, you wouldn’t put up with shit.”
Nate looks at me as if I’m speaking a foreign language and sits opposite me. “Too hard. He’s too young for serious.”
“Can’t always help these things.”
“What things?”
“Falling in love.”
Nate leans across and places a hand on my forehead. “You feeling okay, little bro? You’re not making sense.”
“I meant Jax! And Ruby.”
“And you with the nerdy chick?”
I pull my head away. Yeah, we’re broaching this topic. “Fleur. The one you ruined my chances with.”
“Just a bit of fun, man.”
I grit my teeth. “I’m not arguing with you about what you did, again.”
“You could’ve just apologised. She likes you.”
“Not anymore she fucking doesn’t! I tried to and she told me to piss off.”
“No point worrying then. There’re a shitload of girls interested in Will Campbell.”
Yeah, just not the one I want. Fleur’s moved on from Ethan the douche who made her cry, but not in my direction. The day I tried to apologise, I saw her heading across campus with a different guy, laughing and joking. I think he’s a postgrad, but I don’t pay attention to who’s who in the department. He kept putting his hand on Fleur’s arm, a sneaky kind of friendly touching from a man who’d like to be friendlier. The monster gnawed again and the little voice whispered ‘get a grip’.
“Okay. Where’s this weekend’s party?”
Nate grins. “Which one?”
Chapter Eighteen
FLEUR
The meeting with Shaun begins the same as any other. Light, chatty, professional. No mention of kissing. I’d steeled myself and worn extra foundation to disguise the inevitable blushing that will happen. I’d emailed Shaun part of my dissertation to read over, and he’s genuinely impressed, told me I had ideas he’d not considered, which took the paper in a unique direction. His praise for my work thrilled me as much as telling me he wanted to kiss me.
Shaun thinks I’m clever and attractive.
Ready to leave, I’m still talking through some of my concepts when I reach the door. Then pause, aware of Shaun’s silence. The tension seeps out again and I glance up. His eyes are trained on my face; I don’t think he’s listening.
“I need to apologise to you,” he says.
“What for?”
“Propositioning you.”
I smile at his antiquated expression. “You didn’t. Sorry I behaved like a silly girl.”
“You didn’t.”
The heaviness doesn’t drop. “That’s fine. All forgotten.”
He sighs. “Is this because of the rock star? The Ruby Riot guy who studies with you? I heard the rumours.”
Rumours? Crap. “No. He doesn’t study with me. Not anymore.”
“Is he the one who upset you? The other day? Do I have to challenge him to a duel? Protect your honour?” He smiles the Shaun heart-gripping smile.
“He propositioned me, but not as eloquently as you did.”
“I bet he wasn’t! I hope you turned him down.”
“Do I look like I’d be interested in a rock star?”
“You know what they say, opposites attract. You never know, underneath all that he could be a gentle, loving guy who enjoys long walks in the park and reads books.”
I snort at the idea, despite the fact I’ve seen Nate’s gentle side. “And you could be an egotistical dickhead who tells me he wants to fuck me on the desk.”
As soon as the words are out, I slap my hand over my mouth. That was supposed to be a joke, but it came out very badly. Luckily, Shaun takes the comment in his stride and my language doesn’t shock him.
“I could see why that might upset you if that’s what he said, Fleur. I think he misjudged you totally.”
“Exactly.” I shrug my bag strap onto my shoulder; no way is this foundation hiding the red beacon, which is my face right now.
“But I would like to ask you out.”
“Oh.”
“There’s a new Thai place. Spice Temple, 7p.m.?”
“Um.” He steps closer and I swallow. Now what do I do? “Why me?”
“Because I like you. You’re smart. Funny. Different.”
“Are we allowed to go out together?”
Shaun laughs. “Yes, 7 p.m.”
“Okay. Right. Meet you there?”
“Sure.” As I head out of the door, he calls my name and I glance back. “I’ll make sure I buy you flowers before I ask you to fuck me on the desk. The rock star did things in the wrong order.”
If Shaun hadn’t ended that comment with a laugh, he’d be waiting a long time to meet me tonight.
****
WILL
A pissed off Tegan slams cupboard doors in the kitchen of our small house and I watch warily. She might be able to help.
“Hey, Tegan. You’re a chick, right?”
She turns and frowns. “You need to ask me that question?”
“Yeah, sorry. I mean, if I’ve pissed a girl off, and she won’t talk to me, what should I do?”
“Are you asking me for relationship advice?”
“Um. No. Me and her, we’re not like… dating, but she helped me with something. I want to thank her and she won’t talk to me.”
Tegan stares as if I’m speaking a foreign language. “Since when were you and your brother interested in what girls think of you?”
Since Fleur.
“I’m not, just want to thank her.”
“Uh huh. I don’t know. Buy her some flowers.” She pours a glass of water and gulps down the contents. “Tell Jax I’ll see him later.”
Before I can respond, Tegan slams the glass on the counter and glides past me, grabbing her phone from the table on the way past. The door slams as she leaves the house. A couple of minutes later, a hassled looking Jax appears at the foot of the stairs.
“Has Tegan gone out?”
“Yeah. What did you do this time?”
“Said something I shouldn’t. As usual. Man, what am I supposed to do?”
My mouth twitches into a smile. “Buy her some flo
wers?”
****
FLEUR
When the large bunch of pink roses arrives at the house, I panic. If Shaun bought me flowers, is that a not-so-subtle hint? After what he said when I left the room today, I’m wary.
Until I read the card.
‘Thanks for the help with my paper. Sorry about my behaviour the other night. Can I please explain?’
Unsigned, but no prizes for guessing who.
I fight a smug smile. A rock star bought me flowers. Nate Campbell bought me a bunch of roses.
Anne points at them. “Secret admirer?”
No way am I telling Anne they’re from Nate and giving fuel for her fire. “Looks like it.” I grab the card and fold it, pushing it into my pocket.
“You’re dressed up, where are you going?”
I look down at my short blue dress, teamed with a yellow cardigan. “Hardly.”
She points at my face. “You have lipstick on. And is that mascara?”
“I often wear make-up!”
She purses her lips for a moment. “Oh! Are you going on a date? With history dude?”
“Maybe. Yes.”
“Nice.” She grins. “Where?”
“Spice Room.”
“Even nicer! A bit pricier than Curryleaf.”
“Is it?”
“I guess he wants to impress you.”
“I guess.”
“Enjoy!” Anne shoves me towards the front door. “And I want a picture. Is he hot? Or is he a cardigan wearing nerd?”
The smile I give her is the answer. Hot? Undoubtedly. Carrying a mixture of excitement and nerves, I leave for my date.
Chapter Nineteen
FLEUR
We step out of the restaurant, and I shiver. In my eagerness to leave my house, I left my coat at home. A cardigan isn’t enough for tonight, even with the warmth flowing through from Shaun’s attention.
“Are you cold?” he asks.
“I’m fine.”
He takes one of my hands and rubs it. “You are. Here.” Shaun peels off his jacket and drapes it across my shoulders, despite my protests.
I relent, glad of the extra heat from his woollen jacket. “Thank you.”
“No problem. I was going to buy you flowers, but thought you might get the wrong idea after what I said earlier, so I’ll make this my romantic gesture.” He takes my hand and squeezes. “I’ve enjoyed tonight.”