by Lea Coll
The moment was suddenly too intimate. My emotions had to be clear on my face and I wasn’t ready for him to know that I liked him—that I wanted something more with him. Before he could respond, I said, “Let me grab a vase.” As I walked toward the kitchen, Sawyer’s footsteps followed. “Thank you so much for doing this.” He cleared his throat. “You know, being my plus one for this dinner. I really appreciate it.”
“Sure.” Something about the way he’d said that made me feel like he could have added fake date and it would have fit. Like he was reminding me this wasn’t real and the happiness I’d felt seeing him in his tux holding flowers deflated. Why did I always get my hopes up? Tears prickled my eyes as I reached up to grab a glass vase from my cabinet.
“Can I help?” he asked from somewhere behind me.
“No. I’ve got it. Thanks.” I poured water into the vase and took my time arranging the stems so the tears cleared before I faced him again, placing the flowers in the middle of the island. “I forget how much I love fresh flowers until I have them.”
Dr. Hirsch wanted me to show my true feelings but I could only do that if I knew they’d be well-received. I didn’t know where Sawyer’s head was at. I pasted a happy smile on my face. “Ready to go?”
He glanced at the clock over my stove which read five-forty. “We don’t want to be late.”
He held his elbow out for me as I linked mine through his.
“We want to make a good impression.” I felt my mask slip-on. This I could do. I could be his pretend date for the evening. Even if it killed me, but I wouldn’t be doing him any more favors. It was clear I couldn’t be around him and not want him. As soon as I allowed myself to fall for a guy, I fell hard. And there was never anyone to catch me.
He waited for me to lock up and we walked the short distance to his dark gray SUV parked in my driveway. He held the door open for me and as I arranged my skirt around me to sit, he said, “Did I say something wrong?”
“No. Why would you think that?”
He stood, his hand over the top of the door as he watched my face carefully. “I don’t know. You were so happy when you saw me and the flowers. Then it was like you shut down.”
A weight settled on my chest and it was hard to breathe. No one ever noticed that before and I wasn’t sure what to say. Should I lie to him? Probably not, it seemed like he could see through me. But I couldn’t tell him the truth. That I liked him and wanted it to be a real date. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He was silent for a minute as he considered me. “I want you to be yourself with me.”
“Even if I’m too much or too loud?” I couldn’t help it. How could he say that when he didn’t like the real me?
His brow furrowed. “What?”
“I heard you.” I looked away from him. I couldn’t bear to see his reaction. “At Logan and Ashley’s housewarming party. I had to work but I arrived late. Samantha asked why you wouldn’t consider dating me and you said I was too much for you.” The pain twisted in my chest as I remembered. “I’m impulsive and loud.” The pressure in my chest increased as the silence ticked on. I didn’t know why I even brought it up. Couldn’t I enjoy the evening?
“That was—Stella, you have to know—”
I shook my head, refusing to hear what he had to say. “Let’s go, Sawyer. We don’t want to be late for the dinner. It’s important for your career.”
He finally closed the door. When he came around and settled in his seat, he said, “We’re not done talking about this. I didn’t mean that. I say the wrong thing sometimes. I’ve told you I’m not great at making a good impression or socializing.”
“I’m sure that’s true, but I can’t forget it.” How could I explain that everything he said ate at my own insecurities. I shouldn’t have brought it up—not tonight. I didn’t want this to cloud the evening or his impression of me. This was supposed to be the perfect night. The night he noticed me and realized I was right for him.
He started the car and then held his hand palm up over the console in invitation.
My stomach flipped at the very date-like gesture and I was ready to forgive anything he’d said before.
“Please, Stella—I was an idiot. I didn’t even know you when I said that.”
My hand itched to take his, to feel his warmth, to tell him his words hadn’t sliced me to the core. I slowly placed my hand on his and his fingers interlaced with mine. Nothing had ever felt so comforting.
“Please look at me.”
At his plea my eyes met his and I could see the anguish.
“I’ve gotten to know you better. And you’re giving, kind, you’re an amazing friend, a hard worker. I’m so impressed with you. Are we okay?” Sawyer asked his face so earnest, he squeezed my hand, and a tingle shot through my arm to my chest loosening the tight knot which had formed. I relaxed back into my seat.
His words melted any walls I’d raised the day he’d said it. “Yeah, we’re okay.”
Smiling in relief, he said, “You’re beautiful.”
My lips twitched. “You said that.”
“It’s true and I can’t stop saying it. Every time I look at you, I can’t breathe you’re so beautiful.”
My heart clenched. It was the most wonderful thing anyone had ever said to me. This one man held all the power to hurt me and lift me up with his words. “Thank you,” I answered softly.
He started the SUV and backed down my driveway onto the street. “The dinner is for the Sophie Kerr Prize. Students submit their portfolios in the hope of receiving the scholarship, which is awarded for literary promise.”
“I know. I attended Washington, remember?”
He glanced at me then back at the road. “That’s right.”
I’d never submitted to the award. Despite accommodations I received, I didn’t feel worthy of entering even though several professors encouraged me. I was pretty sure they wanted to award actual writers, not someone who had to dictate everything.
“Dean Strauss will be there, along with President Foster and Provost Daub. Each one of them has to okay my tenure when it goes up the chain. Also, the higher-ups in the history department form the tenure committee.”
“Okay, so we’re focusing on them then. I don’t know the professors in the history department, but I know the others you mentioned. Don’t worry, Sawyer. They already like me.” And they did. I always made a point to talk to people when I came on campus, to get to know them, tell them I went to Washington College and how wonderful the school was.
Sawyer squeezed my hand. “You’re awesome, you know that?”
I wanted more than anything to be what he needed tonight for this dinner. I’d prove to him that I was reliable and dependable. “Thanks.”
When we arrived at the school, Sawyer parked and let go of my hand to come around and let me out. I took his offered hand, carefully getting out of the car so my dress wouldn’t wrinkle or snag.
I started to walk toward the dining hall where well-dressed couples walked arm in arm through the large glass doors, when a tug on my hand pulled me back. I looked up in surprise into his warm brown eyes.
“Thanks for telling me you were there that night. It kills me to think you heard that.”
“It’s okay. You apologized.” And I realized a weight had been lifted off my chest. The thing that held me back from truly considering Sawyer as an option for me had been removed.
As soon as we walked in, I noticed the cafeteria had been completely transformed. Ivory drapes separated the cafeteria kitchen from the room, large round tables were covered in white linens, the basic chairs had been swapped for the wedding style ones, and a band played at the front of the room. The room already had large floor-to-ceiling windows and white columns, which added to the ambiance. “Wow, this is so fancy.” Seeing couples walk around in evening gowns and suits, I was happy I’d dressed appropriately.
Dean Strauss called to me. “Stella! What a pleasant surprise! It’s great to see you.”
“I didn’t know you were dating.” Dean Strauss looked pleasantly surprised by the news.
I panicked. We hadn’t discussed what to tell people about us. “It’s new,” I finally settled on. Hopefully, that would satisfy everyone.
“I heard you’re developing a new course in the journalism department?” Dean Strauss asked.
I was proud that Dean Strauss remembered I was involved. “Yes, I am. I look forward to presenting my proposal to you in a few weeks.”
Dean Strauss greeted someone who slapped his shoulder as he walked by, then turned to us. “Well, I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”
“Thanks! I watched one of Sawyer’s classes the other day and it sucked me in. I felt like I was on the battlefield and I don’t even like history.” Thankfully, Dr. Strauss laughed with me. “And he conducts the ball game on the quad every Friday. Living history, right?” I looked to Sawyer to make sure I hadn’t overstepped but he smiled and nodded.
“That’s right. I love seeing the professors involved in the community and volunteering,” Dean Strauss said. “I need to mingle. I’ll see you two around.”
Dean Strauss patted Sawyer’s shoulder as he walked by, greeting the next couple to walk in the doors.
“You did great. Let’s walk around and talk to people.”
Sawyer groaned next to me. “Do we have to?”
“Isn’t this why you asked me to come?” I glanced up at his annoyed face. He was right to ask me here if his inclination was not to socialize.
His face grew more determined. “No, you’re right. Let’s do this.”
“Stella! It’s so good to see you,” Joan Cassidy, the head of the journalism department and my professor when I attended Washington, said as she hugged me.
“Hi Joan!” When I stepped back from her I laid a hand on Sawyer’s arm. “I’m here with Sawyer tonight. He’s a professor in the history department.” Then I wound my arm around his back to pull him close to me.
“Sawyer, so nice to meet you.” They shook hands and talked about some goings-on at the college.
“I heard you’re developing a journalism course,” Joan said to me, bringing my attention back to her.
“I am.” Most people probably looked to their parents for approval but I’d always sought my professor’s approval.
Joan beamed. “That’s amazing. I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank you. I wouldn’t have any of this without your encouragement.” I turned to Sawyer to say, “Joan was my professor and pushed me to apply for this scholarship.”
“Did you win?” Sawyer asked.
“Oh, I didn’t even apply,” I said, embarrassed I’d even brought it up.
“I couldn’t convince her,” Joan said.
Sawyer’s shoulder blades tensed under my hand and I knew he wanted to say more but Joan stood there watching us. “Why is that?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t feel like I could compete with everyone else.” Looking at him, I saw the understanding in his eyes. I always felt less than because of my learning disability and when I received accommodations it felt like an unfair advantage. Logically, I knew it wasn’t but it didn’t seem right to enter a writing contest when I couldn’t write.
“It’s hard to convince this girl that she can do anything. I tried,” Joan said.
“What are you talking about? I wouldn’t be standing here if it wasn’t for you. And now I can pass that on to the students at the paper and maybe in my own class this summer,” I said.
“Good luck, Stella. If anyone can do it it’s you,” Joan said. “I’m going to find my seat.”
As she walked away, Sawyer’s arm around my shoulder pulled me closer until I was flush with his side. Then he leaned down and whispered in my ear. “We’ll talk about that later.”
“Okay, big guy. Ready to mingle some more?” I smiled teasingly. I was in my element and I was determined to help him out tonight. I scanned the room for more people to introduce him to. I wanted him to talk to everyone tonight and give them a good impression. “Point out the history professors to me.”
“Let’s go.” He sighed, loosening his hold on me.
We walked around the room and talked to every history professor in attendance and the Provost and President. By the time we sat at the table, I was exhausted. My face hurt from smiling and my toes were pinched in my shoes but we’d accomplished what Sawyer wanted. If they didn’t know before, they knew who Sawyer was now and what he did for the school.
Luckily, dinner was crab cakes or steak, so the food was much better than the usual dining room affair. I sipped a glass of white wine, assessing if there was anyone else in the room we needed to speak to. Sawyer’s arm came to rest on the top of my chair as he leaned in to whisper. “Relax. You already worked your magic.”
I turned to smile at him but paused when realized I was only inches from his mouth. His eyes dropped to my lips and I stopped breathing. Would he kiss me here?
“Hey, Sawyer.” I looked up to see Owen slap his shoulder as he slid into the seat on the other side of Sawyer.
“Hey, you’re late,” Sawyer said, annoyance tinged his voice. “You’re lucky I told the waitstaff to leave you a plate.” Sawyer, who’d been leaning into me all night, whether it was an arm over my chair or whispers in my ear, had moved to sit upright in his chair, resting his elbows on the table as he watched Owen eat.
“Eh, this is only my second year here, I’m not worried about kissing too much ass yet. I have years before I need to apply for tenure.”
“Still, every interaction counts. You don’t want to get a bad reputation,” Sawyer said.
“Yeah. Wow. Steak? They went all out on this at least.” Owen picked up his knife and fork and started cutting into his now cold steak.
I shivered, chilly all of a sudden. Sawyer was annoyed that Owen wasn’t taking this
seriously and I couldn’t blame him. I was focused on the stage as the president walked to the
podium. Since I was also here to cover the event for the paper, I pulled out my phone to record the details for my story.
I tuned out most of it because I’d heard this speech before as I’d attended as a member of the student paper. I used the note app on my phone to remember the prize winner’s name to record in the paper. The winner was a woman who’d written a screenplay. I hoped to have a few minutes to speak with her this evening to discuss her plans for the scholarship money.
Finally, the awards were over and the band kicked it up a notch for dancing. I was practically buzzing with excitement to get out of my chair. I immediately turned to Sawyer. “Do you want to dance?”
“That’s not really my thing.”
He’d said he was uncomfortable in social situations so I’d anticipated this. I stood without listening to his protests. “Come on. You can’t leave a girl hanging here.”
“Okay.” He stood reluctantly taking the hand I held out for him as I led him to the dance floor.
“There’s only one other couple out here.”
I stopped in the middle of the dance floor and turned to him. “And now there are two.” I touched his bicep as his arm went around my waist. I moved our joined hands up. “It’s not like I’m a good dancer. I just like dancing.”
“Oh yeah?” Sawyer said, relaxing and looking down at me.
“Yeah, I love music and moving.”
He moved a piece of hair that had fallen into my face and tucked it behind my ear. “You’re full of surprises.”
I nodded smiling at him. “I do tell everyone that.”
He chuckled. “I like it.” He looked around the room. “You know, everyone here thinks we’re dating.”
“I did tell everyone that, didn’t I? I’m sorry.” I relished in the closeness to his body, his smell, and the feel of his hand in mine. Being around him tonight and acting like his girlfriend was dangerous. I’d held his h
and, put my arm around his waist, hugged him, thought about kissing his chin, then his cheek—“I know! We can pretend to date for a few weeks and then if anyone asks, just say you broke up with me.”
He cleared his throat. “I think that’s a good idea.”
My head snapped up from where I was admiring the stubble on his jawline. “I was kidding!” He couldn’t be serious. I’d never survive fake dating this guy. I was struggling to remember that tonight wasn’t reality, much less going on more dates where we’d be forced to touch, kiss, be close.
“Yeah, everyone already thinks we’re dating. The tenure committee will see that I’m settled in Chestertown and won’t leave. You know everyone who’s anyone here and they love you. You want to help me, don’t you?”
“That’s why I’m here,” I hissed, wanting to be mad he was pushing me into extending this, but I couldn’t resist his pleading, the uncertainty in his eyes.
“Then help me for a few weeks longer. I’m not good at this socializing stuff. You’re amazing, Stella. You worked this whole room for me. You totally could have worked in public relations.”
I considered that for a moment. “You’re right. I could totally do that.” My mind raced with the possibilities. “I don’t think there’s a great need for public relations representatives in Chestertown though.” Even though I wasn’t involved in the day-to-day stuff with my mom anymore, I was still reluctant to move too far away. I held out hope that she’d get better.
“You two make the cutest couple,” President Foster said. “The town reporter and the history professor.” She smiled approvingly before her husband spun her away.
Sawyer smirked. “See?” When I didn’t say anything he added, “Just until I submit my tenure application at the end of term.”
That was only four weeks away. Surely, I could pretend to be interested in him and not fall deeper with this guy. “Fine.”
His expression serious, he said, “That means no more online dating. It has to look real.”