The Weight of Words (The WORDS Series) (9 page)

“What was
that
all about?” I asked, gesturing toward the tutorial room. “If there’s something you want to say, go ahead and say it.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, drawing his head back in surprise.

I laughed cynically. “You
can’t
be serious.”

“I’m dead serious.”

“So, what—in the space of two minutes, something goes from important to inconsequential? That’s absurd.”

“You’re blowing this completely out of proportion.” He put his hands on his hips and looked around the hall distractedly. “I was going to tell you more about the books for your topic of study, but I think you need to flesh out your own thoughts before you muddy the waters with secondary sources. I changed my mind about the recommendations, that’s all,” he explained, his matter-of-fact tone blowing the wind out of my sails. “I’m sorry if you misunderstood.”

“Oh. Well, you seemed kind of angry. If I’ve done something to offend you…” I trailed off, feeling small and ridiculous.

“You’ve in no way offended me,” he said with an impatient sigh. “But if you’ll excuse me, I don’t have time to discuss this right now. Professor Brown is expecting me.”

“Yes, of course.”

I stepped aside so he could pass by. Three long strides and he was out the door. Once I was sure he’d made his escape, I stepped outside in time to see him climb into his car and speed off around King’s College Circle. I plodded down the steps toward the sidewalk.

I don’t have time to discuss this right now.

Translation
: You are of no significance to me. Please move along.

After my embarrassing confrontation with Daniel, I wanted nothing more than to shut my brain off for a while. I had to stop fixating on him, so I contemplated my plans for the evening. Or should I say my
lack
of plans. As the year had progressed, I’d been secluding myself more and more, but I hadn’t felt the ill effects of isolation for the majority of the year, being consumed by work and school and otherwise quite content to mooch around by myself. Now I was in dire need of distraction.

When Matt came home at five o’clock and I asked him if I could hit the frat party with him, he looked genuinely thrilled. “Wow, Aub, I’d love it if you came. Gotta admit I’m a little surprised. Last time you came to a kegger, you swore you were ‘so fucking done with this.’ Those
were
your words, right?”

I snickered. He was right—I had said that. Truth be told, a keg party was the last place I wanted to go, but I was prepared to put up with the drunken idiocy of frat boys if only to escape from my own whirling thoughts for a while. Simply put, I was desperate.

“Yeah, well, it’s been about six months since someone’s hurled down my back,” I said, recalling the vile events of a party back in September. “I figure I’m due, ya know?”

“Aw, come on, you have to admit, it was freakin’ hilarious.”

“Maybe for you, but you didn’t have some freshman’s Chef Boyardee Beefaroni chunks in your hair.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said. “It
was
gross. The look on your face, though? Absolute mint.”

“All I know is I’m so glad Sarah was there. It takes a pretty special person to help you wash some pimply guy’s puke out of your hair.”

Matt’s face clouded over.

“Oh, crap. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dropped the S-word.”

“Naw, it’s okay.” He rubbed my arm gently. “You can stop walking on egg shells. It’s cool. Gets a little easier every day.”

Out of nowhere, he pulled me into a giant hug, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist and burying his face in my hair. I should have pushed him away, or at least cut the embrace short, but after the week I’d had, it felt good to be held by someone who genuinely cared about me. I sighed contentedly. When he finally pulled away, he looked at me tenderly. I felt a pang of guilt. I shouldn’t be sending him mixed signals. Luckily, he stepped back with a sad smile, retreating to his room and saving me the trouble of back pedaling.

At nine thirty, Matt and I were standing in the crowded Kap common room, beers in hand while loud music pumped through the giant floor speakers.

I had to concede, it felt good to be out socializing. I’d been taking myself way too seriously for too long. My determination to graduate with distinction didn’t mean I couldn’t have a life. I needed to take some time to unwind and blow off some steam once in a while. That was probably why I’d been so intense and reactionary, meeting Daniel and allowing him to occupy my thoughts exclusively. I was spending too much time in my own head.

I had a few drinks, but with Wednesday’s hangover still fresh in my mind, I was reluctant to go overboard. A few people fawned over me excessively, claiming they’d thought I was dead. Charming. At one point, I bumped into Shawn Ward who high-fived me, saying my performance at tutorial that afternoon had been “fucking epic.”

“Daniel’s a bit arrogant, don’t you think?” he said. “I mean what’s with all the ‘Mr. Ward, Miss Price’ crap? I’m thinking, ‘Dude…you’re like four years older than me. Get over yourself.’”

Despite the humiliation I’d felt earlier, I had a strange compulsion to defend Daniel. Here I’d come to the party to get away from thoughts of him, but apparently there was no escape.

“I don’t know; I think he’s doing okay. It’s probably his first time at this. He’s trying to maintain a distance. It would be hard being a TA when you’re so close in age to the students, don’t you think?”

“Man, you’re the last person I figured would stick up for him,” he said. “Things got a little tense with you two today. Anyway, I don’t care what you say. I still think he’s an ass.”

I shrugged and we both moved on, dancing, mingling, and stopping to chat with people here and there. By midnight, I was ready to bail. The witching hour was approaching. As everyone got drunker, the potential for projectile hurling would increase exponentially. I found Matt hanging with his friend Dustin and let him know I was leaving.

“Want me to walk you back?” he asked.

“No, I’ll be fine,” I assured him.

“Can you text me when you get home? If I don’t hear from you in fifteen minutes, I’ll send out a search party.”

“You’ll send one? You won’t join it?” I asked playfully.

“Hey, the fun’s about to start here,” he said, looking around the room. “I don’t want to miss anything!”

I laughed and punched his chest.

“I mean it, though, Aub. Text me,” he repeated with a look of total seriousness.

“I will. See you tomorrow.”

“I’ll try not to wake you when I get home,” he promised as he leaned over to kiss me on the cheek.

Yeah, I was totally missing the boat on this one. How I wished I wanted Matt sometimes. Life would be so much easier.

I actually felt something akin to cheerfulness as I crossed the quad on Monday morning, ready to tackle my three-hour shift. I had my school work well in hand, and I’d even taken some proactive steps to resuscitate my floundering social life. To top it off, I had a concert date with Julie to look forward to.

As I was arriving at the office, Dean Grant was pulling on his overcoat and making his way out.

“Good morning, Aubrey,” he said. “I’ll be back in an hour or so. I’m heading over to Wymilwood to grab a coffee with my son. You know, Daniel—the one who graced us with his ill-humor last Monday?”

“Yes, right, I remember,” I said, cringing at my lie by omission. I didn’t relish the idea of having to keep my in-class relationship with his son a secret, but I’d made a promise to Daniel and intended to keep it. I’d also promised myself not to continue obsessing about Daniel, but that didn’t stop me from spending a good ten minutes mulling over why hadn’t come to the office to visit his father as he had the previous week. Was he actively avoiding me?

I brought a decisive halt to my musings, renewing my vow to stop dissecting his every move, and spent the rest of my shift entirely focused on work. I even went as far as to arrive at my Shakespeare lecture early to secure two seats on the side of the classroom closest to the door. When Julie arrived, she frowned as she sat down, pouting theatrically. She wanted to stare at
Mr. Shmexy.

“Sorry, Julie. I can’t sit over there. It’s hard to think straight,” I whispered.

“You’re telling me,” she said, chuckling under her breath.

“I’m not talking about how gorgeous he is,” I hissed. “I’m talking about his moodiness. He was so weird on Friday. I don’t know what I’ve done to tick him off.”

She tried to placate me by telling me she was sure Daniel’s attitude wasn’t personal. According to Julie, some men were wholly incapable of coping with smart women. In her opinion, Daniel found my intelligence threatening.

I shook my head and shrugged, trying to seem indifferent. I avoided sneaking looks at him for the entire class and felt damn near euphoric at the end of the lecture when I realized I’d successfully steered clear of making eye contact with him.

On Tuesday, I congratulated myself for managing to keep thoughts of Daniel at bay all day. Of course, the fact that I was swamped with reading and research was partially to blame for the limited space in my brain for wayward thoughts, but there was no need to admit that. I was quite enjoying patting myself on the back, thank you very much.

Back in class on Wednesday, Julie and I sat close to the door again. I focused entirely on Professor Brown’s lecture, taking lots of notes that would support my use of
The Taming of the Shrew
in my independent study paper. As Julie and I packed up at the end of the class, my brain was still ticking over ideas for my essay when Daniel crossed the front of the room, heading down to the tutorial room for his Wednesday session. As he passed, he cast a pained smile in my direction. Although his gesture stopped me dead in my tracks, I gritted my teeth and willed myself to feel nothing.

Rien
.

Niente
.

Nada
.

“
The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
”

What, even Hamlet’s mother was talking to me now?
Shut up, Gertrude,
I thought.
Isn’t there a poisoned chalice around here you’d like to take a swig of?