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Gage opened his mouth.
“Now,” I ground out.
When they’d gone, I dropped my head to my desk. Once upon a time, my life had been simple. I got up, I went to the gym, I went to work, went home, and slept. Rinse and repeat. Now, everything was falling apart.
My inbox gave a soft ping, and I raised my head with a groan. There was a new email from the vice chancellor.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: LSU Business School Staff
REPLY-TO: [email protected]
SUBJECT: BS Spring Faculty Dinner Confirmed Date
Hi All
Please find attached the business school faculty dinner official invitation with final confirmed date, time and location. You may bring a plus-one—please indicate in your reply.
Reply to [email protected] by Friday 4 p.m.
Looking forward to seeing you all there.
Best,
Thomas
Prof. Thomas St James | BSc (Hons), PhD, FREng
Vice-Chancellor
London Southwark University
Attached was an invitation with the date, time, and location of the spring faculty dinner.
Gritting my teeth, I quickly tapped out a reply in the affirmative, stating that I was attending and wouldn’t be bringing a plus-one, and then closed down my computer. It was time for my next lecture, and I couldn’t allow my worries to distract me while I was teaching.
Arriving in the lecture hall, I spotted Ander Loveridge and Elliot Clarke in the front row. My brows rose—seeing either of them anywhere close to the front was unusual, particularly Loveridge, who went out of his way to sit as far away from me as possible. As I eyed them with suspicion, they were joined by Preston Montgomery III and Liam Holmes, another two of my students who had a preference for the rows towards the back of the lecture theatre. All I could do was hope they weren’t planning on doing anything disruptive, because after the events of this morning, I held a tenuous grip on my temper.
I did my best to tune them out as I prepared my slides and began the lecture, but when it reached the point of the students splitting into small groups to discuss the material, Ander slid out of his seat and made his way over to me.
“Uh, Dr. Wilder.”
“Yes?”
He stared down at his hands. “It…fuck. This is gonna sound really inappropriate, but I know about you and JJ. It was an accident that I found out,” he rushed out, “but I’m worried about him. Did something happen between you? He seems a bit sad. It’s not like him.”
My anger at Loveridge’s impertinence was immediately replaced with concern. “Sad? How?”
He shrugged. “Maybe sad isn’t the right word. He’s…listless. It’s hard to describe. Maybe most people wouldn’t notice, but living with him, it’s kind of obvious. It’s like he’s lost some of his spark, I guess.”
“Since when?”
“Uhhh…” Tapping his chin, he thought about it for a moment. “Four days, probably.”
Four days. Ever since Gage had caught us in my office. We hadn’t seen each other in person, although I’d texted him to reassure him, and that was down to me. I hadn’t wanted to see him, not when I was so twisted up by what my heart wanted and what my head told me was the right thing to do.
“Fuck,” I muttered. “Okay.” Forcing myself to meet Loveridge’s gaze, I managed to add, “Thank you for telling me, Ander.”
