[The one good thing about being as overburdened as he had found himself this semester was that time seemed to pass quite rapidly— he had little time to dwell on his various troubles and instead forged ahead, burning the candle at both ends far more often than he ought to. His anger towards Dr. Manx and their professional stalemate against one another had continued to simmer, but remained largely impotent, which was as frustrating as the rest of it. It was hardly the sort of thing he had time to waste worrying about now, and if she had hoped that increasing his class load with something others of his level of accomplishment might have found insulting was going to make him crack, she was going to find herself sorely disappointed— though worn thin, he carried the load without complaint, and extended the same courtesies to these younger students that he did his graduates.
Let it never be said that he did not take his job and his potential impact on his students quite seriously.
Time passing quickly also meant that the initial awkwardness of his unexpected reunion with Professor Steinbeck had begun to lose some of its sting. To say that they had become friendly would have been stretching it, but they had developed a sort of rapport of their own since that brief meeting in the hallway— it had been short, but more had come to follow, and while most of them were much the same, he appreciated that she had taken an interest in his well-being, even if he was mildly embarrassed that he seemed to be doing poorly enough that more than one sandwich or meal had been thrust unceremoniously into his hands. In turn, he often returned the favor by passing a cup of coffee her way; there were enough days where their paths crossed that he was certain, at least, of when he would see her, and on at least two more occasions, she would arrive to room 305 in the early morning to find coffee and a scone waiting for her, though he otherwise limited their brief encounters to their corridor crossings.
It was not quite friendship, but he found himself looking forward to those fleeting moments, ephemeral and business-like as they were.
It was not unusual for him to visit the library in the late afternoon, today with the interest in gathering supplements for the next meeting of his graduate group, but as he makes his way towards the stairs to the second floor, that familiar and vibrant red catches his eye in passing, giving him pause. To see a professor of literature here was only natural, of course, but was she...?
He glances at his surroundings only to see that no one seems to be paying him any mind before he approaches, his footfalls silenced by the library's gray carpeting, and he quietly clears his throat to announce himself, only to find that she does, in fact, appear to be quite asleep— with her glasses dangerously askew and in danger of being bent.
He doesn't think he's seen her this relaxed in the entirety of their acquaintance. It seems a shame to wake her, but given that he often wears spectacles himself, the thought of what might become of them if he does not is enough to stir him to act.
He drops down so that he's almost at eye-level with her (and the surface of the table), clearing his throat again softly.]
[It's a fleeting memory, like a faded watercolor painting that has lost its vibrancy. Flowers in her hair, tears streaking her cheeks, fists clenched, and the eye of his lenses staring straight into her soul. He's speaking, but she can't hear him.
What did he say? She wants to remember.]
"Ah, Professor Steinbeck?"
[Her eyes flutter open (looking very like that morning) half-lidded and sleepy. When met with the pair of brown eyes at her level...]
...
...
[She automatically takes a paperback book and pushes it against Dr. Dekarios's forehead with an incoherent grumble.]
[It is, just for a moment, very like that morning— something he had not taken into consideration, but it was a morning he was not likely to forget anytime soon, much like the rest of their first encounter.
It had been quiet. They hadn't spoken about anything terribly deep, but he had enjoyed her company. He'd made coffee. Tried to convince her to at least stay for breakfast, but she had insisted she had places to be. She had conceded to exchanging phone numbers so that he could be certain that she made it home safely. He remembers how very hard it had been not to kiss her again before she left, but holding himself back.
He remembers how before that, he had awakened to those same sleepy, emerald eyes and for once, did not feel so lone.
Now, as she pushes the book against his forehead, he finds himself feeling rather nonplussed.]
You'll ruin your glasses if you insist on remaining as you are, I'm afraid.
[He lifts a hand to push the book back towards her with two fingers before drawing back up to his full height.]
I imagine it's absolute murder on your neck and back, as well.
[If she hadn't been so tired she'd be much less nonplussed about the close eye contact than he was at the moment, but Professor Steinbeck just grumbles some more and sits up straight.
(There might have been a skipped heartbeat. Maybe).
Her glasses are lopsided as her arms dangle by her sides and looks up at the ceiling.]
This semester is going to do away with everyone at this rate. Office hours don't work as well when the space is halved.
Ah. No, I imagine they don't. I hope the library served your purpose well, in that case.
[He's been fortunate enough not to have to share his office, having been here as long as he has— not to mention it's crammed so full he would never be able to fit an officemate to begin with— but those who are forced to make due absolutely have his sympathy.
This semester really has been a trying one for many, but given what he's gathered from various overheard snippets among students, Professor Steinbeck has been doing well for herself regardless.]
I'm here to gather a few things for my research group, yes— a few of my students have been considering altering the course of their thesis projects. I thought I might find some supplemental material to support some of these new ideas of theirs.
[It's the same trajectory as their previous encounters, rudimentary conversation that ignores the elephant in the room. Or library, in this case. She could do to ask more about his research group, about his other courses he's been saddled with since his workload is what has her checking in on his basic nutritional needs.
Amelia adjusts her glances and wordlessly glances at Gale before moving to rummage through her bag and take out her phone. She surreptiously glances back and forth to make sure there are no other library stragglers in their line of sight before pulling up her text messages.
This is stupid. Maybe she's just that dumb (all the academic achievements and awards can only take one so far), but it's all been brewing for a while and as much as she would like to ignore it all, the fact that they see each other almost every other day makes the guilt harder to ignore.
There should be a notification on Gale's end.]
So.
For the record and if it wasn't apparent already, I did not know we were going to be in the same workplace.
Also turn off your sound notifications if you want to continue this conversation.
[Fortunately for both of them, he's always been a quick study, and it takes him no time at all to catch on. Though there's a momentary furrow of his brow as he reaches to draw his own phone from his pocket, it eases as soon as he sees that it was Professor Steinbeck herself who had 'interrupted' them.
He glances back at her, offering a brief, polite smile.]
My apologies. If you'll excuse me for a few moments, Professor, there's something I need to attend to.
[He turns from her table with his gaze fixed on his phone in the event that anyone else happens to pass by and look their way, making his way to the nearby lounge area so that he is still well within earshot, but can easily play at being occupied. He sinks into one of the armchairs there, setting his bag down on the seat beside him and crossing one leg over the other before he reads her message a second time, considering it for a long moment before he flips his sound off and responds, his expression one of concentration.]
That much was apparent rather quickly. I had not assumed you to be malicious or secretive, though you were better at hiding your shock than I was.
We did make a point not to talk about those sorts of details.
[They had asked one another a number of questions, of course, and both of them had shared, but they had avoided discussing the immediate day-to-day. They had learned other things— what they each liked, what drove them.
The kinds of things that he felt mattered a great deal more, truly.]
[Amelia nods as Gale leaves her vicinity, her eyes never leaving her screen until his replies pop up.]
Have you told anyone else by any chance? Just so we set the record straight between us, I mean.
For full disclosure, I informed my friend (who is unaffiliated with this university) about our particular circumstances. And by extension, our third friend (also unaffiliated). But that is all.
[He turns in his chair just slightly so that his back is angled towards her. To anyone passing by, it would look as though they hadn't even taken notice of one another in the first place.]
Only one person, Dr. Prescott, though I excluded most details. She knows we spent an evening together. Though she is affiliated with the university, she is the soul of discretion and not given to gossip. She won't breathe a word. I hadn't intended to tell her anything at all, which is admittedly rare, but she was insistent on pulling it out of me. She expressed sympathy for us both.
[Tara always had a way of managing such things.]
I'll not be telling anyone else. It's no one's business but our own.
[The professor recalls the older woman who had sat next to Gale at the beginning of the semester. She can only take his word for it when he shows certainty of her discretion since it's obvious that they're this far into the year and no one has shown even a hint of suspicion about their connection outside of campus.]
A thank you is in order so Thank you.
I'm not sure where to go from here.
[Before she can delete that respone, a wayword press of the 'send' button dashes that notion so now it's too late.]
It might be better if we just go on as we've been doing.
[He exhales under his breath as her messages come through, pressing his lips together into a frown.]
You have nothing to thank me for. It was common decency. The last thing I would want would be for this to make your time here at the university uncomfortable.
[Of course, it's done that for both of them, but neither of them has sought to make it so. They are managing it the best they can, he imagines. It's hardly as though any of this was intentional.
He pauses before sending a second message, feeling something stick at the back of his throat.]
I'm not sure where to go from here, either.
I can say I certainly prefer speaking to not, though I understand the challenges that may present, given we had initially intended on never seeing one another again. That, of course, is no longer an option.
[He doesn't say so, but that part... that, he's grateful for.]
[Amelia wonders if this would be any easier if he was less gracious and understanding and if it would be better if he was an obviously terrible individual to justify spurning him completely. But these were the cards she's been dealt with and wishing for something worse, was quite frankly, foolish and idiotic of her.
She didn't want to be on bad terms with him. As they were now, however, other possibilities didn't feel realistic. ]
Since our departments are sharing a building, at least it isn't abnormal for us to be talking.
That is, if that's what you're going for.
[More talking, that is. The professor has a feeling that at the very least, Dr. Dekarios really did like her company in a platonic sense.]
[More talking at the very least. Before the semester had started, some part of him had hoped that they might spend more time together, that things might develop beyond that one night— but now that they worked together, that wasn't an option for a number of reasons. It was hardly forbidden, but as a new addition to the staff trying to make a name for herself, it might cause her reputation to suffer, and he had learned the hard way that romance and his professional life were a poor combination, the aftershocks of which he was still feeling keenly to this day.
Besides. Neither of them had been looking for anything of the sort. They'd been clear enough on that point, hadn't they? He'd made a mistake, perhaps, in seeking more, letting himself become briefly infatuated, but— this was better. This nipped that ill-conceived venture in the bud, if nothing else.
Still, they could be friends. They had more in common than he did with many of his other colleagues. That would hardly be out of line, would it?]
I'd quite enjoy that, if you're amenable. We're colleagues. There's nothing to stop us from being friends.
[Some people might say such a thing and mean it as a dismissal, a promise to never follow through on, but not him.]
We have a great deal to talk about, if we so choose.
She bites her lower lip, closes her eyes, and leans her forehead on her screen. There's a relieved, but conflicted sensation at this resolution they've reached. Making a new friend at work is unexpected (but not unwanted, all context leading up to it aside). Lord knows she has very few true companions and how difficult it was to make that connection as an adult.
Amelia starts to type again, but then deletes the characters, continuing to gauge the situation and finally pinpointing the exact emotion that has stalked her throughout this entire ordeal.
Guilt.
In her attempt at temporary escapism, all she did was create more guilt when turning to a stranger and falling into his arms. And now, Gale, no longer a stranger, continues to extend utter kindness and understanding. It makes her gut twist.
Texting back should be easier, but instead, she stands up and moves towards where Dr. Dekarios is sitting and stops to lean against a shelf, one hand clutching her opposite arm.]
[He looks up when he hears her approach, and just for a moment, feels his breath hitch in his throat.
No— none of that. Not only was the prospect of anything more than friendship no longer on the table, it never should have been. It wasn't what she had been in search of that night, certainly, and not something he was ready to seriously consider again— if ever, after what he had been through. It had been a moment of weakness, or a series of such moments, reaching out to her again after she had left his apartment.
Was he fooling himself, thinking that even friendship could be achievable, after all was said and done? Perhaps. It may have been a foolish thought, indeed, but after all was said and done, he could use a friend. She probably could, too.
He would have to separate the memory of "Eva" from who Amelia actually was. The night they'd shared was something he would hold dear, because there were moments that had made it clear it was more to both of them than a way to pass the time— but that something more didn't necessarily have anything to do with the other person, and more with what each of them needed.
He chooses his words with care as he offers a cautious but genuine smile.]
You've gone above and beyond so far, as far as I'm concerned. There are friends I've known longer who've not taken such an interest in my taking care of myself.
[He slips his phone back into his pocket so that he can give her his full attention, turning in his seat to angle himself towards her.]
As it so happens, I make an excellent friend. I may have met Eva, but I've yet to get to know Amelia— and I would very much like to. She seems to have very good taste in both books and breakfast sandwiches.
But when Gale continues to extend his hand in friendship, the desire to shy away isn't as strong as before. She looks at him directly and purses her lips before looking at her feet again. There is a ghost of a smile, faint thing that it is.]
... We can talk about books. It's an easy start for both Amelia and Eva.
[She might not make a good friend, but no one can say that Amelia never tries.
Amelia moves closer to Gale and holds out her hand.]
[He stands to meet her as she approaches, his smile softening— though he does not know what her life may have been before coming to this place, he does know what it is to be lonely, how difficult it can be to let people in regardless of one's reason for being guarded. They had recognized that in one another, and her recognizes it again now, even as he reaches to take her hand and give it a firm but gentle shake.
If his heart leaps into his throat for a moment when his fingers close around hers, it's entirely by coincidence.]
Friends.
[It is luck and luck alone that allows him to then catch a glimpse of movement in his peripheral vision— someone coming through the front doors they are still in plain view of, the movement just distracting enough to draw his full attention for a single beat.
Immediately, his heart abandons his throat and plummets to somewhere beneath even his stomach when he spots the unmistakable figure of Dr. Manx, well-dressed and severe-looking as she has ever been. His grip on Amelia's hand tightens as he feels his fight-or-flight response triggering, and he quickly begins to move towards the nearest aisle, leaving his bag behind and pulling the literature professor along with him in a hurry.]
[Amelia has little time to process and linger in the warmth of his hand around hers. Tonal whiplash takes over and she's pulled along with Dr. Dekarios.]
Whatโ
[Her voice was a little too audible and she catches herself before it can gain any notice. She stumbles, but regains her footing, whispering harshly at him.]
Excuse me? Was there... [Her mind races at the possibilities and being as sharp as she was, she figures it out quickly.]
[He looks at her apologetically even as she begins to admonish him, his back all but pressed against the bookshelves as he lifts his chin to look past her for any movement. For the moment, the coast seems clear, and he presses his lips into a tight, worried line before giving her another truly contrite look, lowering his own voice to a whisper as well.]
I apologize. It's—
[Well, she had hit the nail squarely on the head, had she not?]
It's as you say. Dr. Manx.
[He looks somehow wearier just for having said the name.]
Though there was nothing untoward to see or overhear, I'd rather not take any chances with that one.
[As he explains, however, he has yet to realize that he's not yet released her hand.]
[Her brow furrows at his answer. She whispers back incredulously.]
Seeing us wouldn't be tooโ
[There's a pause as she falls silent trying to gauge any approaching footsteps. But there's the other matter of how he holds onto her hand and how precarious this proximity between them is. To be honest, her thoughts are entirely jumbled by trying to figure out the implications of why it was bad for Dr. Manx to see them together, clashing with the very distracting notion of how broad Dr. Dekarios is up close and the floodgates of that night begin to creak and damn it, damn it, DAMN IT.
Amelia takes a huge breath and looks down at their feet.
If he wasn't willing to take his chances with Dr. Manx seeing them together, then there were some possibilities that she doesn't feel great about entertaining, but logically lead to some plausible conclusions. But this isn't the time to ask him (and she wonders why she doesn't want to really know).]
[The moment she says so, he becomes entirely too aware of the fact that he had not, in fact, released her just yet— just as he becomes keenly aware of how very close they are in this crowded aisle, and a flash of that night comes back unbidden: the kiss under the streetlight, when he had first stepped close and put his arms around—
No, no, none of that now. He releases her hand and furrows his brow slightly, apologetic.]
My apologies. I was— distracted.
[By Dr. Manx or their close proximity, he doesn't know. A bit of both, perhaps. It's not only that he wishes to avoid any unnecessary attempts to play at being able to be professional with the dean herself, but there is something in his gut that tells him allowing her to see him speaking closely with any woman who wasn't Tara was likely to draw undue and unwarranted attention, even if it was only friendly conversation.
She had always been the jealous type, and there had been nothing gracious about their parting. His visit to her office following that meeting at the beginning of the semester had made it clear that very little had changes.]
I suppose if we aim to be friends, we don't need to be so concerned about whether or not we're seen speaking.
[Gods above, tucked away like this, the scent of her is difficult to ignore— he doesn't know if it's shampoo or perfume or something else entirely, but he has to draw in a breath and avert his gaze to right himself before his thoughts get carried away with him.
Right. This friendship business may have a few obstacles to overcome, but it will be well worth the effort, he's convinced. Better to push through than to continue dancing around one another awkwardly.]
[Why, she does smell like honey and lavender, maybe a hint of cardamom, thanks for asking.
(Yeah, rough restart on the friends thing already.)
The professor's head remains bent down, making her red hair curtain her flushed face. The second Dr. Dekarios releases her hand she does a half-swerving motion so she's standing next to him on his right rather than staying right in his front.]
... Let's give it another minute and wait it out.
[She rubs her hands together restlessly.]
... If it helps... Thank you for being... Considerate. About everything.
[He exhales slowly to steady himself, smoothing out the front of his vest with his newly-freed hand as she moves to his right, stepping back into his field of vision. When she thanks him, his brow furrows slightly, a small crease forming just between his eyes. His immediate thought is that it's wholly unnecessary, but he supposes not everyone would have had the common sense to keep private matters private.]
Of course. I would never have dreamed of doing otherwise.
[He understands, of course, that there's no way she could have known that. They both knew a few fairly personal details about one another, but... they had still been strangers. Acquaintances, at best.]
What happens behind closed doors is no one else's business. I've never been all that fond of gossip, myself.
[He looks straight ahead before he glances back towards the expanse beyond the aisle.]
You gave the impression that you came to this city when you did to make a clean start. I'll not do anything to hinder that.
[He's so blindsided by that unintended pun and her acknowledgment of it that it starts a laugh out of him, enough so that he has to clap a hand over his mouth to smother it and keep from drawing attention— just in case a certain dean is still close by, but he still crinkles around the eyes, much like he had that night when she'd managed to make him laugh and pulled him from his own brooding thoughts.
He's smiling when he lets his hand drop away, happy to address her other concerns.]
I'm not certain what it will look like, either. It may surprise you to know that my pool of friends is actually quite small.
[The result of having spent so many years investing all of his time and energy into one person— and that particular person's insistence on privacy. He'd been unable to share his life with anyone other than Tara, and so other friendships had fallen away.]
Coffee seems an excellent place to start. I can teach you the trick to it, if you like, though it does take some time to perfect.
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sunfloras2024-01-21 09:17 pm
no subject
Let it never be said that he did not take his job and his potential impact on his students quite seriously.
Time passing quickly also meant that the initial awkwardness of his unexpected reunion with Professor Steinbeck had begun to lose some of its sting. To say that they had become friendly would have been stretching it, but they had developed a sort of rapport of their own since that brief meeting in the hallway— it had been short, but more had come to follow, and while most of them were much the same, he appreciated that she had taken an interest in his well-being, even if he was mildly embarrassed that he seemed to be doing poorly enough that more than one sandwich or meal had been thrust unceremoniously into his hands. In turn, he often returned the favor by passing a cup of coffee her way; there were enough days where their paths crossed that he was certain, at least, of when he would see her, and on at least two more occasions, she would arrive to room 305 in the early morning to find coffee and a scone waiting for her, though he otherwise limited their brief encounters to their corridor crossings.
It was not quite friendship, but he found himself looking forward to those fleeting moments, ephemeral and business-like as they were.
It was not unusual for him to visit the library in the late afternoon, today with the interest in gathering supplements for the next meeting of his graduate group, but as he makes his way towards the stairs to the second floor, that familiar and vibrant red catches his eye in passing, giving him pause. To see a professor of literature here was only natural, of course, but was she...?
He glances at his surroundings only to see that no one seems to be paying him any mind before he approaches, his footfalls silenced by the library's gray carpeting, and he quietly clears his throat to announce himself, only to find that she does, in fact, appear to be quite asleep— with her glasses dangerously askew and in danger of being bent.
He doesn't think he's seen her this relaxed in the entirety of their acquaintance. It seems a shame to wake her, but given that he often wears spectacles himself, the thought of what might become of them if he does not is enough to stir him to act.
He drops down so that he's almost at eye-level with her (and the surface of the table), clearing his throat again softly.]
Ah, Professor Steinbeck?
no subject
What did he say? She wants to remember.]
"Ah, Professor Steinbeck?"
[Her eyes flutter open (looking very like that morning) half-lidded and sleepy. When met with the pair of brown eyes at her level...]
...
...
[She automatically takes a paperback book and pushes it against Dr. Dekarios's forehead with an incoherent grumble.]
Mrghbl.
no subject
It had been quiet. They hadn't spoken about anything terribly deep, but he had enjoyed her company. He'd made coffee. Tried to convince her to at least stay for breakfast, but she had insisted she had places to be. She had conceded to exchanging phone numbers so that he could be certain that she made it home safely. He remembers how very hard it had been not to kiss her again before she left, but holding himself back.
He remembers how before that, he had awakened to those same sleepy, emerald eyes and for once, did not feel so lone.
Now, as she pushes the book against his forehead, he finds himself feeling rather nonplussed.]
You'll ruin your glasses if you insist on remaining as you are, I'm afraid.
[He lifts a hand to push the book back towards her with two fingers before drawing back up to his full height.]
I imagine it's absolute murder on your neck and back, as well.
no subject
(There might have been a skipped heartbeat. Maybe).
Her glasses are lopsided as her arms dangle by her sides and looks up at the ceiling.]
This semester is going to do away with everyone at this rate. Office hours don't work as well when the space is halved.
[Her head moves to glance at Dr. Dekarios.]
Gathering research materials I'm assuming?
no subject
[He's been fortunate enough not to have to share his office, having been here as long as he has— not to mention it's crammed so full he would never be able to fit an officemate to begin with— but those who are forced to make due absolutely have his sympathy.
This semester really has been a trying one for many, but given what he's gathered from various overheard snippets among students, Professor Steinbeck has been doing well for herself regardless.]
I'm here to gather a few things for my research group, yes— a few of my students have been considering altering the course of their thesis projects. I thought I might find some supplemental material to support some of these new ideas of theirs.
no subject
[It's the same trajectory as their previous encounters, rudimentary conversation that ignores the elephant in the room. Or library, in this case. She could do to ask more about his research group, about his other courses he's been saddled with since his workload is what has her checking in on his basic nutritional needs.
Amelia adjusts her glances and wordlessly glances at Gale before moving to rummage through her bag and take out her phone. She surreptiously glances back and forth to make sure there are no other library stragglers in their line of sight before pulling up her text messages.
This is stupid. Maybe she's just that dumb (all the academic achievements and awards can only take one so far), but it's all been brewing for a while and as much as she would like to ignore it all, the fact that they see each other almost every other day makes the guilt harder to ignore.
There should be a notification on Gale's end.]
So.
For the record and if it wasn't apparent already, I did not know we were going to be in the same workplace.
Also turn off your sound notifications if you want to continue this conversation.
no subject
He glances back at her, offering a brief, polite smile.]
My apologies. If you'll excuse me for a few moments, Professor, there's something I need to attend to.
[He turns from her table with his gaze fixed on his phone in the event that anyone else happens to pass by and look their way, making his way to the nearby lounge area so that he is still well within earshot, but can easily play at being occupied. He sinks into one of the armchairs there, setting his bag down on the seat beside him and crossing one leg over the other before he reads her message a second time, considering it for a long moment before he flips his sound off and responds, his expression one of concentration.]
That much was apparent rather quickly. I had not assumed you to be malicious or secretive, though you were better at hiding your shock than I was.
We did make a point not to talk about those sorts of details.
[They had asked one another a number of questions, of course, and both of them had shared, but they had avoided discussing the immediate day-to-day. They had learned other things— what they each liked, what drove them.
The kinds of things that he felt mattered a great deal more, truly.]
no subject
Have you told anyone else by any chance? Just so we set the record straight between us, I mean.
For full disclosure, I informed my friend (who is unaffiliated with this university) about our particular circumstances. And by extension, our third friend (also unaffiliated). But that is all.
no subject
Only one person, Dr. Prescott, though I excluded most details. She knows we spent an evening together. Though she is affiliated with the university, she is the soul of discretion and not given to gossip. She won't breathe a word. I hadn't intended to tell her anything at all, which is admittedly rare, but she was insistent on pulling it out of me. She expressed sympathy for us both.
[Tara always had a way of managing such things.]
I'll not be telling anyone else. It's no one's business but our own.
no subject
Dr. Prescott. Duly noted.
[The professor recalls the older woman who had sat next to Gale at the beginning of the semester. She can only take his word for it when he shows certainty of her discretion since it's obvious that they're this far into the year and no one has shown even a hint of suspicion about their connection outside of campus.]
A thank you is in order so
Thank you.
I'm not sure where to go from here.
[Before she can delete that respone, a wayword press of the 'send' button dashes that notion so now it's too late.]
It might be better if we just go on as we've been doing.
no subject
You have nothing to thank me for. It was common decency. The last thing I would want would be for this to make your time here at the university uncomfortable.
[Of course, it's done that for both of them, but neither of them has sought to make it so. They are managing it the best they can, he imagines. It's hardly as though any of this was intentional.
He pauses before sending a second message, feeling something stick at the back of his throat.]
I'm not sure where to go from here, either.
I can say I certainly prefer speaking to not, though I understand the challenges that may present, given we had initially intended on never seeing one another again. That, of course, is no longer an option.
[He doesn't say so, but that part... that, he's grateful for.]
no subject
She didn't want to be on bad terms with him. As they were now, however, other possibilities didn't feel realistic. ]
Since our departments are sharing a building, at least it isn't abnormal for us to be talking.
That is, if that's what you're going for.
[More talking, that is. The professor has a feeling that at the very least, Dr. Dekarios really did like her company in a platonic sense.]
no subject
Besides. Neither of them had been looking for anything of the sort. They'd been clear enough on that point, hadn't they? He'd made a mistake, perhaps, in seeking more, letting himself become briefly infatuated, but— this was better. This nipped that ill-conceived venture in the bud, if nothing else.
Still, they could be friends. They had more in common than he did with many of his other colleagues. That would hardly be out of line, would it?]
I'd quite enjoy that, if you're amenable. We're colleagues. There's nothing to stop us from being friends.
[Some people might say such a thing and mean it as a dismissal, a promise to never follow through on, but not him.]
We have a great deal to talk about, if we so choose.
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She bites her lower lip, closes her eyes, and leans her forehead on her screen. There's a relieved, but conflicted sensation at this resolution they've reached. Making a new friend at work is unexpected (but not unwanted, all context leading up to it aside). Lord knows she has very few true companions and how difficult it was to make that connection as an adult.
Amelia starts to type again, but then deletes the characters, continuing to gauge the situation and finally pinpointing the exact emotion that has stalked her throughout this entire ordeal.
Guilt.
In her attempt at temporary escapism, all she did was create more guilt when turning to a stranger and falling into his arms. And now, Gale, no longer a stranger, continues to extend utter kindness and understanding. It makes her gut twist.
Texting back should be easier, but instead, she stands up and moves towards where Dr. Dekarios is sitting and stops to lean against a shelf, one hand clutching her opposite arm.]
... I might not be a good friend.
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No— none of that. Not only was the prospect of anything more than friendship no longer on the table, it never should have been. It wasn't what she had been in search of that night, certainly, and not something he was ready to seriously consider again— if ever, after what he had been through. It had been a moment of weakness, or a series of such moments, reaching out to her again after she had left his apartment.
Was he fooling himself, thinking that even friendship could be achievable, after all was said and done? Perhaps. It may have been a foolish thought, indeed, but after all was said and done, he could use a friend. She probably could, too.
He would have to separate the memory of "Eva" from who Amelia actually was. The night they'd shared was something he would hold dear, because there were moments that had made it clear it was more to both of them than a way to pass the time— but that something more didn't necessarily have anything to do with the other person, and more with what each of them needed.
He chooses his words with care as he offers a cautious but genuine smile.]
You've gone above and beyond so far, as far as I'm concerned. There are friends I've known longer who've not taken such an interest in my taking care of myself.
[He slips his phone back into his pocket so that he can give her his full attention, turning in his seat to angle himself towards her.]
As it so happens, I make an excellent friend. I may have met Eva, but I've yet to get to know Amelia— and I would very much like to. She seems to have very good taste in both books and breakfast sandwiches.
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But when Gale continues to extend his hand in friendship, the desire to shy away isn't as strong as before. She looks at him directly and purses her lips before looking at her feet again. There is a ghost of a smile, faint thing that it is.]
... We can talk about books. It's an easy start for both Amelia and Eva.
[She might not make a good friend, but no one can say that Amelia never tries.
Amelia moves closer to Gale and holds out her hand.]
Friends?
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If his heart leaps into his throat for a moment when his fingers close around hers, it's entirely by coincidence.]
Friends.
[It is luck and luck alone that allows him to then catch a glimpse of movement in his peripheral vision— someone coming through the front doors they are still in plain view of, the movement just distracting enough to draw his full attention for a single beat.
Immediately, his heart abandons his throat and plummets to somewhere beneath even his stomach when he spots the unmistakable figure of Dr. Manx, well-dressed and severe-looking as she has ever been. His grip on Amelia's hand tightens as he feels his fight-or-flight response triggering, and he quickly begins to move towards the nearest aisle, leaving his bag behind and pulling the literature professor along with him in a hurry.]
This way, quickly!
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Whatโ
[Her voice was a little too audible and she catches herself before it can gain any notice. She stumbles, but regains her footing, whispering harshly at him.]
Excuse me? Was there... [Her mind races at the possibilities and being as sharp as she was, she figures it out quickly.]
Is it someone you know? Did someone see?
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I apologize. It's—
[Well, she had hit the nail squarely on the head, had she not?]
It's as you say. Dr. Manx.
[He looks somehow wearier just for having said the name.]
Though there was nothing untoward to see or overhear, I'd rather not take any chances with that one.
[As he explains, however, he has yet to realize that he's not yet released her hand.]
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Seeing us wouldn't be tooโ
[There's a pause as she falls silent trying to gauge any approaching footsteps. But there's the other matter of how he holds onto her hand and how precarious this proximity between them is. To be honest, her thoughts are entirely jumbled by trying to figure out the implications of why it was bad for Dr. Manx to see them together, clashing with the very distracting notion of how broad Dr. Dekarios is up close and the floodgates of that night begin to creak and damn it, damn it, DAMN IT.
Amelia takes a huge breath and looks down at their feet.
If he wasn't willing to take his chances with Dr. Manx seeing them together, then there were some possibilities that she doesn't feel great about entertaining, but logically lead to some plausible conclusions. But this isn't the time to ask him (and she wonders why she doesn't want to really know).]
... Do you have to keep holding my hand?
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No, no, none of that now. He releases her hand and furrows his brow slightly, apologetic.]
My apologies. I was— distracted.
[By Dr. Manx or their close proximity, he doesn't know. A bit of both, perhaps. It's not only that he wishes to avoid any unnecessary attempts to play at being able to be professional with the dean herself, but there is something in his gut that tells him allowing her to see him speaking closely with any woman who wasn't Tara was likely to draw undue and unwarranted attention, even if it was only friendly conversation.
She had always been the jealous type, and there had been nothing gracious about their parting. His visit to her office following that meeting at the beginning of the semester had made it clear that very little had changes.]
I suppose if we aim to be friends, we don't need to be so concerned about whether or not we're seen speaking.
[Gods above, tucked away like this, the scent of her is difficult to ignore— he doesn't know if it's shampoo or perfume or something else entirely, but he has to draw in a breath and avert his gaze to right himself before his thoughts get carried away with him.
Right. This friendship business may have a few obstacles to overcome, but it will be well worth the effort, he's convinced. Better to push through than to continue dancing around one another awkwardly.]
... she must have passed by now.
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(Yeah, rough restart on the friends thing already.)
The professor's head remains bent down, making her red hair curtain her flushed face. The second Dr. Dekarios releases her hand she does a half-swerving motion so she's standing next to him on his right rather than staying right in his front.]
... Let's give it another minute and wait it out.
[She rubs her hands together restlessly.]
... If it helps... Thank you for being... Considerate. About everything.
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Of course. I would never have dreamed of doing otherwise.
[He understands, of course, that there's no way she could have known that. They both knew a few fairly personal details about one another, but... they had still been strangers. Acquaintances, at best.]
What happens behind closed doors is no one else's business. I've never been all that fond of gossip, myself.
[He looks straight ahead before he glances back towards the expanse beyond the aisle.]
You gave the impression that you came to this city when you did to make a clean start. I'll not do anything to hinder that.
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[She fiddles with her intertwined fingers keeping her gaze firmly towards the floor.]
I've done a bang up job already.
[...]
No pun intended.
[Somehow, the delivery manages to remain dry. But then she follows up on a more serious note.]
If we're going to be friends I don't know what that will look like yet. Maybe it could start with you making me more of that coffee.
[Amelia finally looks at Gale.]
I haven't been able to make it taste the same when I brew it myself.
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He's smiling when he lets his hand drop away, happy to address her other concerns.]
I'm not certain what it will look like, either. It may surprise you to know that my pool of friends is actually quite small.
[The result of having spent so many years investing all of his time and energy into one person— and that particular person's insistence on privacy. He'd been unable to share his life with anyone other than Tara, and so other friendships had fallen away.]
Coffee seems an excellent place to start. I can teach you the trick to it, if you like, though it does take some time to perfect.
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