Better Deeds Than Words (Words#2)

by Georgina Guthrie

  Did I dare venture back in there with him?

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I whispered.

  “It’s a fantastic idea. See you at ten after two, Miss Price.” He hauled his laptop bag up onto his shoulder and strode briskly past me, stopping at the door to turn and wink before continuing out into the hall.

  I jammed the test into my bag and made my way over to Hart House. Daniel must have suspected I’d react this way. He’d been waiting for me to query my mark so he could suggest a meeting to discuss it, a meeting which wouldn’t make me feel as if I were breaking my promise to his father.

  While Daniel was in his tutorial, I grabbed a bite and read over some sonnets. At two o’clock, I bought us each a coffee and went to the library. With the exception of a girl working at a table by the window and a guy snoring on a couch by the fireplace, the room was empty.

  I opted to sit in a small niche which allowed students to slightly sequester themselves from other patrons. It was a lovely little nook with four narrow stained glass windows lining the west wall.

  When I was settled into a chair at a corner of the table, almost completely hidden from view, I unpacked my test and my anthology. A few moments later, the door creaked. I peered around the wood panel wall, watching as Daniel scanned the library. He put one hand on his hip and ran his other hand through his hair.

  “Pssst.”

  He spun around and rolled his eyes, his hand over his heart.

  “I thought you’d changed your mind,” he whispered, pulling a chair across the carpet to sit beside me.

  “I considered it,” I said quietly, handing him his coffee.

  He took a gulp and sighed. “God, that’s good. Thank you. So, did you really consider standing me up?” His eyes danced, and his hand rested near mine on the table.

  “Briefly.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t. I’d forgotten about this little area. It’s surprisingly private, don’t you think?” He traced a line along the outside of my wrist with his index finger.

  I closed my eyes. “Daniel, please don’t.”

  “Oh, come on, Aubrey. No one can see.”

  “Look, can you just put your TA hat on for a sec?”

  “Well, I never thought I’d hear you say those words.” He clasped his hands in front of him and sat upright. “Okay, Miss Price. Fire away.”

  I slid my test across the table. “I can’t believe you gave me a perfect score. Isn’t that dangerous?”

  “I didn’t.”

  I peered at the page. “That clearly says thirty out of thirty.”

  “You’re right. It does. It’s Professor Brown’s writing.”

  “I thought you marked these tests.”

  “I did. Then he looked them over. He was displeased with my assessment of yours.”

  I squinted at the crossed out mark. “So, you gave me twenty-eight?”

  He nodded. “I was afraid to give you full credit. I read it a few times. I guess I nitpicked a little.”

  “Wait, you looked for things to penalize me for? Jesus, Daniel! What the fuck?”

  The muscle in his jaw jumped. “Let me get this straight,” he said. “A minute ago you were upset because you thought I’d given you perfect, and now you’re pissed because I took two marks off? That smacks of ‘damned if I do and damned if I don’t,’ wouldn’t you say?”

  He sat back in his chair, resting his hands on his thighs and shaking his head.

  “I’m sorry, it’s just that I thought you’d have a hard time finding fault with my work, but now it sounds like you can’t bring yourself to give me perfect, even if I deserve it. That’s not fair.”

  “Give me a fucking break,” he said in a heated whisper. “Don’t forget, this was my first time marking one of your assignments. All I could hear was my father’s voice chirping at me about objectivity. I’d appreciate it if you’d try to see it from my perspective.”

  I rubbed my temples in frustration. Of course this was hard for him.

  “You’re right. I’m being unreasonable.” I looked at the pained expression on his face. “I overreacted. Forgive me?”

  He turned in his chair so that he was facing me, his hand seeking mine under the table. “Of course I forgive you. This is all so fucked up.” He laced our fingers together. I looked anxiously at the entrance to the room. “Aubrey, no one can see us. Let me hold your hand for a few minutes, please? We just had an argument. I need a make-up squeeze.”

  I couldn’t help smiling. “A make-up squeeze?”

  “Yes, right now, please.”

  I clasped his hand tightly, and he closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

  “Better?” I whispered.

  “Not as effective as make-up sex against a bookshelf,” he said, tipping his chin at the wooden bookcases behind us. “But it’ll have to do for now.”

  “Can we start again?” I asked.

  “Do I have to put my TA hat back on? Because I’d really rather not.”

  “Fine. But tell me what happened,” I said, gesturing to my test. “What did Professor Brown say?”

  “He scared the living shit out of me. I thought I was going to have to defend giving you such a high mark, but then he told me it wasn’t high enough. He said my expectations were inflated and you deserved a perfect score. You’ve made a good impression on him over the years.”

  “How did you explain yourself?”

  “I grasped at straws. I told him I knew you and a few others in the class are in contention for dean’s list standings, and I was afraid I might be letting your reputation for doing well cloud my judgment, and that’s why I’d been particularly critical.”

  “Did he believe you?”

  “I think so. He spent fifteen minutes lecturing me about criterion-based assessment and achieved learning expectations. I had to nod and play dumb. Something good did come out of all this, though—something that’s put my mind at ease. My dad was happy to hear about it, too.”

  “What’s that?” I took a sip of my coffee.

  “Martin suggested students use ID numbers instead of names on the Much Ado paper, and he’s decided that instead of splitting up the exams into two piles, I’m going to mark the first part of everyone’s exam and he’ll mark the second part so he’ll be able to look them all over as he goes and make sure he agrees with my assessment. It’s like a weight’s been lifted off my shoulders.”

  He pulled his hand from mine and reached down to rifle through his bag.

  “Speaking of a weight on my shoulders, I’ve been carrying this around since this morning.” He placed a paperback copy of Tipping the Velvet on the table. “I picked it up before class. I should have given it to you earlier so you could have read it while you waited for me. It might’ve softened you up a bit. Maybe you wouldn’t have given me so much grief about your test.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You think that was grief? You have no idea. Until you’ve watched my mom and dad argue, you have no concept of grief. And I’m warning you right now—I’m stubborn, sunshine. If that turns you off, you might want to cut your losses and make a speedy exit.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Aubrey, so there’s no point trying to frighten me away. And I happen to like it when you’re sassy.” He pushed the book forward. “Put this in your bag. I know you don’t have time for personal reading right now, but as soon as you do, read it, okay?”

  “Okay. Thanks. I’m excited to take a look at it, but you really need to stop spending money on me.”

  He frowned. “Are you kidding? This is nothing. If I have to put up with your sass, then you have to learn to live with me spending money on you. I’d say it’s a fair trade.”

  “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, Daniel, but I can’t afford to get you anything right now, so it makes me feel bad.”

  “All I want is a little of your time. Sitting here with you now, even a few minutes ago when you were pissed at me, it’s the best I’ve felt all week. To paraphrase a tired old cliché, sometimes the
best things in life are free.”

  “That’s just something rich people say to people who don’t have any money to try to make them feel better.”

  “That’s the second time you’ve said something like that to me. Don’t be cynical. Sassy, I love. Cynical, not so much.”

  His observations, while a little cutting, were probably accurate. I was allowing myself to feel contempt for “the other half” and disparaging him in the process.

  “I guess you’re right. But if you truly believe that, then stop buying me things for the next thirty-one days. No gifts.”

  “I can’t buy you anything for the rest of the semester?”

  “Nope. No Louis Vuitton, no Holt Renfrew, no books. Nothing.”

  He drew his eyebrows together. “I’m not a fan of that idea.”

  “You don’t have to buy my affection, Daniel.” Or my sexual favors, I thought, remembering Julie’s comment from the day before.

  “I’m not trying to buy your affection.” He narrowed his eyes. “What? What’s with the grin?”

  “It’s just something Julie said yesterday. It’s nothing.”

  “Judging by the look on your face, that’s not true. What did she say?”

  I put my hand over my eyes and peeked at him through my fingers. “She said you were giving me gifts because you were jonesing for a blow job.”

  Daniel stifled what would most likely have been a Guinness laugh.

  “I can’t believe she said that.” He leaned over to whisper in my ear. “It’s a little worrisome, though. I certainly hope I won’t have to bribe you to get a blow job. When the time is right, of course.”

  Ha! If he only knew how desperate I was to lick him from head to toe…

  “You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” I said with a naughty grin. “God, what is it about this room that always leads to us talking about oral sex?”

  “I’m not sure. Do you suppose they rent the space out for dirty weekends? There are a hell of a lot of bookshelves we could work our way through.” He scanned the walls around us.

  “Oh, please don’t,” I begged him. “I’m dying over here.”

  “Well, at least I’m not the only one being tormented by pent up sexual tension.” He smiled cheekily, tapping his fingers on the table.

  “Who says my sexual tension is pent up?”

  His tapping fingers stilled. “What do you mean?”

  “You know exactly what I mean.”

  He cleared his throat. “Jesus. Really?”

  “Yes, really. Especially after that email last night. All that talk about your fingers…”

  He slowly licked his lips and then grasped my hand under the table again.

  “These?” he whispered.

  I nodded, and he closed his eyes, expelling a long, steady breath. “Fuck.” He stood and walked over to the bookshelf, scanning the collection as though he’d just noticed the most fascinating volume of poetry. I wasn’t fooled. I could tell that he was adjusting himself in his khakis. He dropped his head back and rolled his shoulders before turning back around to look at me pensively.

  I smiled, and he smirked. The library door creaked open, and he sat back down, dragging his chair a little farther down the table. I watched a guy walk across the room and flop into a seat near the fireplace.

  “We shouldn’t tempt fate,” I whispered.

  “You’re right. I have to meet Cara downstairs in the coffee shop soon anyway. We’re going over her paper again.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “Indeed. She’s an interesting young lady, that one.”

  “Interesting?”

  Vacuous I’d give him. Shallow, moronic, top-heavy, yes, but interesting?

  “I know she comes across as ditzy in class and during lectures,” he said, “but she did fairly well on her test. I obviously can’t discuss specifics, but I got the sense that she’d studied. And she’s working hard on her paper. She’s not what I’d call intuitive, but she’s really trying.”

  I couldn’t hide my surprise. “Good for her, I guess. I still can’t help wondering what the hell she’s doing taking this course, though.”

  “I happen to know the answer to that. She’s been surprisingly forthcoming. Apparently, her mother didn’t get a chance to go to university. She always wanted to study English, and she seems to be living vicariously through Cara’s experiences.”

  “So, Cara is taking English courses to appease her mother?”

  “Essentially. She loves her sociology courses, but she’s taking the English minor for her mom’s benefit. Her mother reads all the books so they can talk about everything. It’s kind of sad.”

  I nodded. “It’s hard to see past the boobs and the valley talk sometimes, you know? Maybe I’ve been too critical.”

  “I have to admit, it’s hard not to talk down to her and Lindsay when they say such ridiculous things.”

  “I noticed that earlier. You need to rein in the condescending tone a wee bit, eh? There’s a fine line between confidence and arrogance, sailor.”

  “Just as there’s a fine line between skepticism and cynicism.”

  Touché.

  “I probably shouldn’t have told you that information about Cara,” he said. “Keep that between us, okay?”

  “Of course.”

  “I should go. Are you cool with what happened with the test?”

  “Yes, Mr. Grant, I understand what happened.”

  “And you’ll be sure to make another appointment if you need to discuss Much Ado, or your sonnet analysis, or your paper, or, I don’t know, the difference between colons and semi-colons?”

  I laughed. “Don’t push your luck.”

  “Fair enough,” he said, grinning wickedly all the same. “I’ll be in touch. Excellent independent work, Miss Price. I’m impressed with how well you took care of that problem you were having without my assistance.” He raised his eyebrow impishly and made his way out of the library.

  Good lord, he was cheeky. And so damn sexy. I gathered my belongings and left, immediately feeling his absence and already looking forward to his evening email. As it turned out, I didn’t have to wait that long. I was in the middle of Queen’s Park when my phone chirped, and I stopped at the edge of the path to read the message.

  From: Jung Willman

  To: Miss_V

  Date: Mon, Mar 30, 2:35:16 PM

  Subject: Stress!

  Hey, Miss Busy Fingers,

  I really enjoyed chatting with you. Sorry again about the mark issue. I’ll do better next time. You’re not a “dolt” and deserved a perfect grade.

  I hate arguing with you, but I love that we’re getting better at talking things out. Most stressful of all is that I can’t spend money on you for thirty-one days, yet I know that I’m not prepared to stop giving you gifts. I’m going to have to be creative.

  Your favorite nitpicker,

  -D

  Chapter 15

  Brief Hours

  Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

  But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

  (Sonnet 116)

  “OKAY, I THINK WE’LL LEAVE it at that for today,” Daniel said. “Sonnet 116 is a favorite of mine, and I’d rather not beat it to death. Plus, some of you have to put up with me tonight too. Wouldn’t want to risk getting tiresome.”

  As if. Daniel could read sonnets to me until the cows came home and I’d hang off his every syllable. He could probably read the phone book, and I’d still end up in a puddle at his feet.

  Julie had spent almost the entire tutorial banging her knee against mine while Daniel read sonnet after sonnet. All the girls were similarly enthralled. Even Trina, who made no attempts to hide that she was a lesbian, was utterly rapt during his reading of Sonnet 116.

  “Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove: O no! it is a fixed mark which looks on tempests and is never shaken…”

  So true.

&nb
sp; “It’s hard to believe we only have one more tutorial left. The semester is flying by,” Daniel said, his eyes briefly meeting mine. “Does anyone have any questions before we go?”

  Apparently no one did because everyone began pushing back their chairs.

  Julie gave me an awkward hug. “Have fun at the play tonight. Wish I hadn’t gone on Wednesday night without you, but rehearsals are kind of running my life right now. I’ll be so glad when this show is over.”

  “A few more weeks and you’ll have your life back.” I snuck a peek across the room. A few more weeks—a mere twenty-seven days—and he’ll be completely mine. I looked back at Julie. “You did grab me the tickets for your show, right? Two of them?”

  “They’re waiting at the box office. All five of them.”

  “Five? Why five?”

  “Brad and Penny are coming too. No pressure!” she said, laughing ruefully as she left.

  I slid my bag over my arm and glanced at Daniel. He was talking with Neil, eyebrows furrowed as he nodded. I turned, intending to make my way out of the room, and bumped straight into Shawn.

  “Hey, Aubrey,” he said. “I noticed when I signed up that you’re going to the play tonight too. Maybe we can sit together?”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I said noncommittally.

  “So, um, what sonnet are you doing for your analysis?”

  “I’m still trying to decide. Sonnets aren’t my specialty.”

  “Yeah, I hear ya. I prefer to have some plot along with the imagery. Still, Daniel made it seem straightforward today. I gotta hand it to him; he seems to be on top of things.”

  On top of things? There was only one thing I wanted Daniel to be on top of right now. He was still chatting with Neil but looking uncomfortably in our direction, displeased that, once again, Shawn Ward was hovering around me attentively.

  Never had there been less justification for jealousy.

  It seemed strange to leave without saying goodbye to Daniel, but at least I’d see him again in a few hours. He obviously felt as uncomfortable as I did because he’d already messaged me by the time I reached the entrance to Queen’s Park.

  Sorry I didn’t get a chance to talk to you before you left,