“The old job dried up,” she said. “I used to work for this guy, and he sold his business, and freelance work for him only comes every so often, so I figured,” she shrugged, “why the fuck not work at the university? It kills time.”
She said it like it was better than nothing. What had she done before? But I wasn’t going to ask about that now. I had something else on my mind. Someone else.
“Are you friends with Nate?” I asked.
“If you’re asking if we have tea parties together on the weekends, the answer is no. But sure. He’s got a past, but he’s okay. Why?”
“A past?”
“This woman everyone loved, a sweet woman, he—”Lisa.Isn’t that the name Lily had mentioned? Kiley looked around and lowered her voice, “She left the group. She was ruined, really ruined. Never the same. Not after what he did. People were upset. Especially when they heard what Nate did. Even if it was for a good cause, they blamed him.”
What did he do? I don’t know what compelled me to ask the next question, but I had to know. It somehow made a difference. “Were they together romantically?”
“It wasn’t that kind of thing. They were trying to infiltrate this crime ring, yadda yadda yadda,” she rolled her eyes. “But a lot of people can’t let go of what happened. Nate included.”
It sounds like whatever it was, it had been brutal. “I can imagine.”
“That’s why I was surprised that Nate brought you to the club last weekend. And it’s Nate now, not Dr. Evans?” She tilted her head. “Is he your adviser or a friendly-fuck?”
“A friendly-fuck?”
“A fuck buddy. You know. Are you fucking Nate?”
“Absolutely not,” I said quickly.
“You act like he’s a gremlin.”
“He’s my adviser. It would be—” I shook my head, because her suggesting it made the potential the more real, “—it would be a mistake. His career. My career.”
“Oh, yes, because careers are the only true roadblock for the penis into the post-modernist vagina.”
I gawked at her awkwardly. Had I said something to offend her?
“I’ll catch you around,” she said. She waved.
I took a deep breath. Interacting with Kiley was more challenging than an undergraduate student who didn’t know how to use keywords for the catalog. After a few minutes, I resumed listening to the audiobook and shelving, but my mind couldn’t concentrate. I had to rescan the shelves multiple times to make sure that I had ordered them correctly. My mind kept wandering to Nate. A friendly-fuck was an outrageously crude term for him. It’s not that I hadn’t imagined what he looked like without a shirt on; I had… The manly hair on his chest, the hardened abs, his toned biceps, the elegant but demanding shoulders, the v-muscle leading down, and down, and…
But it wasn’t something I wanted to risk. We had too much on the line. Nate was going up for tenure, possibly being reviewed this very semester, and if I slept with him and anyone found out, then all of the work I had done to get into this school and submit my entry for the damn, stupid contest would mean nothing.Wow, that Mara Slate really pushes herself; only twenty-one and already winning academic competitions against her peers; we’re lucky to have her here!would turn intoThat slut Mara slept with her professors to get here; don’t let anyone be alone with her or she’ll suck their cocks to straight As.
Let’s not even mention the fact that JessicaandKiley had alluded to women from his past. Broken. Bruised. Ruined. It could have been the same woman or multiple women. The bottom line was that I needed to be careful around him. He was more dangerous than he let on.
The anxiety over what this meant was agitating. I needed to clear my head. I changed to some music, a rock band Dad had shown me while we were studying once, and resumed shelving. Rock music always had a way of making me quit overthinking things. It was too loud to let anything else be heard.
A while later, a tall male figure appeared at the end of the aisle. I ignored him; the library was full of people, and if he really needed help, he could tap my shoulder and ask. But when the man drew closer, a familiarness came about him, the dark hair, the broad shoulders. I turned and startled.
“Nate!” I said, pulling the earbuds from my ears. “I mean, Dr. Evans. You scared me.”
“I thought you saw me.”
“Yes,” I said. He had been there for a while. “I didn’t realize it was you.”
He picked up a book from the cart, then put it back exactly where he found it, conscious of the library’s need for order. “How often do you work here?”
“Ten hours a week.” I grabbed another book and shelved it. “They let us pick the schedule.”
He ran his fingers over the books in the cart, feeling their protected spines. “Someone checked out a book on using astrology to order food in gastropubs?”
“There’s a book for everything,” I said, taking the book from his hand and shelving it in the appropriate spot. Then I realized I could use this time to tell him about my idea for the contest essay. “Here.” I pushed the cart to the end of the aisle, out of the walkway, then grabbed my bag and his hand. “Let me show you something.”
