I pressed him about Lauren. And while I can go to the gym to work out, he’s not wrong. I don’t usually. And I had no plans to do it, either, until I saw him crossing the quad with his head down, engrossed in the podcast he was selecting, triceps looking tight in his plain white t-shirt. I changed my whole day to run on a treadmill behind him for an hour.
What’s a few more minutes?
I get lost in the email from Dr. Pratt as I survey the active list of professors who have already found their peers for review. Allen Davenport is being reviewed by Phil Pratt himself along with Mulroney. A little sigh of relief slips past my lips when I think of not being the one to watch Mulroney’s nose hairs for an hour while he drones on and on about literary composition. I’ve not been assigned anyone, but it seems to be self-assignments, because when I glance back at the chart, I see someoneactively typing in one of the fields. A quick look up at the door and no Cade just yet. That’s when impulse gets the best of me and I tip forward, drop my hands to the keyboard and assign Cade to me, and me to Cade. But Davenport is being reviewed by Pratt and Mulroney, and when I reread the email I realize we have to review and be reviewed by two peers. Surveying the screen, I see that Tara Shae is already assigned to Pratt and Roscoe Williams, our legendary poetry professor.
My eyes fall to the last line of the email, welcoming back tenured Professor Dr. Eli Morton, who has been teaching overseas for some time. Looking at the editable table, I realize that Morton is all that’s left but I’ve already graded him in all the ways that matter. Plus, sitting in on his lecture with Cade—not only would there be no warm rememberings of Eli, but I’d be focused on Cade and his knee touching mine. Eli would see it, and I don’t want him privy to my business.
I type both of our names in the boxes next to each other, leaving Eli hanging, then sit back, pleased that amidst the self-assigning chaos, I got to this email first. It feels a lot like playingSorryas a kid, and letting my mom go first, and rigging the deck to have the first card be a 12 and the second a 2. Still. I recognize I am playingSorrywith my mother’s level of desperation here. I shoot Dr. Pratt an email about lacking the second peer review, as everyone else has already self-assigned. He must be between classes, because he replies and assures me that it’s okay if Professor Mercer and myself only review one another,which confirms I was right. These reviews have a purpose, but it has nothing to do with Cade or myself.
Double clicking, I hit print on the peer survey and note-sheet attached to the email, and get to my feet to collect them just as Cade appears in the doorway, bag slung over his shoulder, light cardigan fighting the cool spring evening. He nods. “Hey.”
I take the papers off the printer. “Hey, man.” I drop two of the four papers onto his desk, and sink into my chair with a sigh. “Peer reviews. We got each other.”
His brow furrows, and he pulls his laptop from his bag, opening it and turning it on right away. Still shrugging out of his sweater, he eyes me. “We’ve never done those since I’ve been here.”
I shrug. “I’ve never done them either but apparently, they’re now crucial. And Dr. Pratt just emailed me and said it’s okay if you and I don’t have that second peer review, so… we’re good.”
Cade settles into his chair, and I know the moment he gets to Pratt’s email, because he sits up a little straighter, narrows his eyes just slightly. Fuck me. The idea of having my hand up the back of his neck, fingers splayed in his soft blonde hair as I slam my hips into him from behind, making him cry out my name, breaking every rule he’s ever followed, I cross one leg over the other, smashing my cock, trying desperately to deflate what was shaping up to be quite the hard-on.
Cade’s eyes lift from his screen and come to mine. He too must know these reviews are to punish someone, andhe also must know that isn’t either of us. I’m fortunate he doesn’t question it more.“Think Dr. Morton will be mad no one picked him?” he asks, touching the edge of his glasses for a moment, his nervous tick. Not only would Morton pick me if he could (he could if he checked his email which is almost a guarantee that he does not), but he’d pick us both, and ask us out for drinks after, angling to have himself a fun night. Fun is what Eli Morton is all about. I swallow against the knot of memories that I’ve long since made peace with, and shake my head. “No, I’m sure he’ll know he was left out since people aren’t sure of his schedule.” The longer he stays around this time, the more people will know that he’s utterly unreliable, even if he’s gifted where English Literature is concerned.
Cade nods, then moves his focus to the printed papers, scanning them. As his blue-gray eyes skate over the suggested bullet points, I can’t help but interrupt.
“I could review you tonight. I mean, you have a class soon, I’m already here.”
His mouth parts, but he doesn’t say anything and instead swallows, then nods. “Okay.”
My pulse is suddenly jerky, but he’d never know it. I nod my head. “Okay. Cool.” He returns his focus to his computer, the only noise between us being the quiet, metallic skate of his fingertips along his mousepad as he scrolls. I pretend to grade an essay about who even cares, and listen to him breath and read, knowing full well that I could be home right now because I have no work left for the day. A few minutes pass, and the phone on my deskrings. I see the name, and know that he must’ve received the peer review email, too.
Swiveling, I face the bookshelf adjacent to my desk and stack my heels on the dusty old shelf. “Hey man, how’s it going?” I nudge the volume down, so his voice doesn’t carry.
“Noah, hi, don’t hang up. I just checked my email.” He laughs, and it does nothing to me. It hasn’t in some time. And that feels good. “I guess you probably know why I’m calling.”
I scratch the side of my jaw where stubble is overtaking what is normally smooth and soft. “The peer reviews,” I offer, trying my best to stay in front of this conversation.
Eli laughs again. “Yeah, and, I talked to Dr. Pratt. You know, you could review me, too. Not just the other person you selected. I could review you, too.” He lets out a sigh that would make me laugh if I weren’t sitting two feet away from Cade. “You know I have to be fair and honest and–”
Heat stalks up my spine. I don’t need anyone to lie for me. I’m a fucking great professor, and the fact that he is insinuating that I would select him as a way of protecting myself is laughable. It’s beyond laughable, but again, mixed company. My jaw clenches as I stroke my fingers along the edge of the desk. “I know,” I say, cutting him off because those are the only two words I can say right now. “Peer reviews are based on honesty.” I grind my teeth to discover a lick of patience left behind. “But Professor Mercer and I are aligned in our schedules so this worksfor us. Thanks though. Maybe Mulroney could review you.”
Cade, who was quietly typing just a moment ago, is now completely quiet. No doubt listening. “Right,” Eli says slowly, stringing the word out like a chewed piece of gum. He’s good at making things feel like chewing gum. “Mulroney.”
“Try him out next,” I retort.
“Okay, well, I had planned on giving the new guy a call–”
I can’t help but cut him off. He’s begging for it. “He’s been here five years, Professor Morton. And again, we’re reviewing one another.”
Eli laughs, flippant and dismissive, true to form. “Five years is nothing, Noah, and we both know that.” He laughs again and I want to slam my phone into the ground and drop a million books on top of it. “Well, take them seriously. Peer reviews are usually serious.”As seriously as you fucking your TA and his boyfriend on camera?“And I thought I’d relay to the new guy that I could give him an honest look and real feedback. That means a lot coming from someone with my experience.”
“No need. We share an office. I’ll be sure to pass that along.” Now Cade is not hiding that he’s listening, because we’re actively talking about him. I drop my feet from the shelf, taking a few seconds to turn and face him. He’s peering at me over his laptop, blue eyes riddled with intensity, soft lines marring his forehead. I wave him off, mouthing, “Don’t worry,” before giving my focus back toEli. “Mulroney’s schedule isn’t online so you’ll need to pop by his office to snag it.”
“If you change your mind, you know where to find me,” he says, as if I’ve been holding a tattered copy of his lecture schedule in my pocket for years.
I cough to disguise my laughter. “Professor Mercer and I are fine, thanks.”
He drops the bravado and bullshit, and lowers his tone to a husky whisper. “You always liked my evening class.”
Heat sprouts under my arms and on the back of my neck. “If that’s all, I’m going to sit in on Professor Mercer’s lecture in a few and I’d like to grab coffee first.”
