My Professor(62)
His eyes widen in panic. “What kind of issue?”
“Something to do with an iron sulfide mineral in the concrete. It sounds like it’ll need a major overhaul before the project really gets underway. I’m sure we’ll all be updated about it soon enough.”
Meera’s been listening quietly, but now she leans her elbow on our cubicle wall. “But why did he have you bring up the engineering plans? Seems random.”
I shrug and toy with my mouse, trying to seem as if I’m anxious to get back to work. “How should I know? The whole engineering department is freaking out though. It sounds like this is going to be a huge problem.”
She hums and pushes off the wall, retaking her seat. “Yeah, let’s hope it doesn’t stall the project for too long.”
I’m relieved that my redirect worked. If she’s still wondering why I was the one to supply Professor Barclay with the plans, she’s at least keeping it to herself.
He and I likely got away with what we just did, but it doesn’t mean I want to do it again.
In fact, I’m furious.
This relationship, if you could even call it that, has an incendiary nature to it. Already, it threatens to grow out of control, like an unchecked wildfire about to rampage through me. Professor Barclay is not nice or easy or safe. He holds the power to ruin my life personally and professionally. I know all of that, and I keep reminding myself of it, and yet it doesn’t seem to compel me toward making better, more rational choices. I didn’t have to go get those engineering plans. I didn’t have to lean into that kiss. I didn’t care that Candace was sitting out in the hall, only feet away from his office. I didn’t care that everyone on this floor just watched me scurry back to my desk in shame.
The trouble is I’m at the mercy of Professor Barclay’s whims, and while that excites me, it also terrifies me.
I pull up my email and go back to his request from this morning. I hit reply and type out a message, angrily tapping on the keys, eliciting a laugh from Hugo.
“Someone has a bone to pick with Mavis Beacon.”
I ignore him.
My reply to Professor Barclay is short, but not sweet.
This is my future you’re playing with.
Then I press send and go to retrieve my forgotten coffee mug in the break room. Lord knows I could use another cup.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jonathan
* * *
It’s late on Friday and I’m driving home from a work dinner. Christopher booked a private room at McAllister’s, and even after three courses, no one was in a rush to end the evening. It’s close to ten PM now and I should be heading home, but instead I’m en route to Alexander’s apartment.
He’s having people over, which means I’m about to walk into a madhouse. Alexander likes being the life of the party. His idea of a small gathering usually involves a group of forty.
I wouldn’t go at all except that it’d probably be good for me to get out of my head a little. I’ve been burning the candle at both ends since returning from Paris. With the semester at MIT in full swing and the problems with the Belle Haven project looming over me, not to mention the work we have going on around Boston and Cincinnati, I find myself with very little free time and very little patience, the last dregs of which have been eviscerated by Emelia.
Running isn’t cutting it anymore.
Extra time in the gym isn’t helping either.
I find myself completely at the mercy of my attraction to her as evidenced by that kiss in my office.
The kiss I’ve jerked off to twice since.
I turn up my radio and focus on driving. I’m only a few minutes away. Emmett’s been hounding me about being here all day. He hates these things as much as I do, but it’ll be good to see old friends.
Once I’m at Alexander’s building, I take the elevator up to his penthouse and hear the crowd even before the metal doors sweep open.
This is worse than I suspected, more reminiscent of a college frat party than a civilized night of revelry. People crowd into the foyer, none of whom I recognize. A flirtatious woman smiles at me as I pass, waving her fingers invitingly.
I pay her no mind as I trudge through the crowd looking for Emmett or Alexander. I find the latter in the kitchen, wedged between a girl’s legs. He’s got her propped up on the counter as he leans in to kiss her.
“This has to be against fire code.”
He breaks the kiss and looks back at me, grinning.
“No, c’mon, it’s a small group,” he argues.
Someone turns the music up in the living room, contradicting his point.
He rolls his eyes. “Right, maybe I should rein it in a bit.”
“Your neighbors have probably already called in a noise complaint.”
He groans and pushes away from the girl, hurrying into the living room to turn down the music.
“What are you, like a dad?” the girl asks me, clearly annoyed.
I hear a heavy laugh from behind me and turn to see Emmett pouring himself a drink from the bar in the corner. I walk over and steal the bottle of bourbon out of his hand, pouring myself a shot before handing it back to him.
“You’re late,” he says without looking over. “I’ve had to endure this party for the last half hour on my own.”