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TWO
Matthew
HAPPY FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL! read the text from my little sister, Tess, which made my lips curve up in a small smile. Somehow, she always knew just the right thing to say to brighten my day, and this text made me miss her, and the days we used to spend together—every time I picked her up from her first day of school.
It was another rainy day in Portland, a thought that didn’t bother me as much as it used to. Over the last two years of living here, I had gotten used to the perpetual gray of the skies.
Happy Monday, I texted her back. Getting ready for your last semester, big shot theater girl? Four years ago, I was a little shocked when she told me she wanted to move to New York and go to drama school there. But I had watched her grow during her High School years and watched her shine on stage, so I knew this was where she would thrive. But I missed her, living on the opposite coast. It was harder than I thought, being alone here without any sort of family.
But you got used to that, I supposed.
Tessa sent me a thumbs-up emoji and a smiley face.
I was still early, a bit of time till my first class of the day, so I headed off towards the business building to let myself into my office, and to get the cup of coffee I had sorely missed that morning. I should have stopped on my way, but I couldn’t explain it—the first day jitters. And why did I have any nerves? It wasn’t like this was my first year of teaching.
But there was always a little bit of lingering nervousness and anticipation as the semester began.
“So I heard this rumor—” Another faculty member’s voice gossiped as I padded into the kitchen near my office to make a fresh cup of coffee as I waited for my next class to start. One of the perks of the beginning of the semester was that students weren’t yet banging down my door to ask for help. I appreciated the quiet and being able to actually hear myself think.
“Oh?” came a second voice. I tried to tune them out. The things the faculty and staff would gossip about never failed to make me roll my eyes.
Like, it was none of my business what Nancy from the English department wore to class today, or what one of their students said in class. I really didn’t care.
I peeked my head out the corner after I hit brew on a fresh pot and caught sight of the two female faculty members who were still sharing hushed whispers in the hallway. At least I couldn’t hear them now. I just groaned internally. I was glad I hadn’t been subjected to their unnecessary gossip—at least, not yet. I hadn’t given them anything to gossip about, and I didn’t plan on it, either. If the professors gossiped that I was too boring, I guessed there were much worse things people could be saying about me.
I’d rather be boring than be the center of everyone’s discussions. I had been that before, and I had no desire to do it again.
I ran a hand through my hair, disrupting the gel I had used to slick back my slightly longer-than-usual blonde hair. I knew I should probably get it cut since it was growing over my ears again in a slight curl, but I kind of liked it like this.
And I had been letting my scruff grow out over the winter break, giving me a short beard I hoped made me look a few years older. At least, maybe this way, I would stop getting mistaken as a grad student by some of the older faculty. I had a Ph.D. for crying out loud, and sometimes I still felt like it was my first day as an Investment Banker, right out of college, all jittery and ready to start a brand-new job.
But no—I was in my second year of teaching, and I had multiple diplomas hanging on my wall. I should expect at least some amount of respect for that, I thought. At least my students didn’t seem to mind my age.
Finally, I slid out of there, coffee cup in hand. I had just settled back at my desk when a knock sounded on my office door.
“Matthew?” I heard the voice of one of my colleagues through the door, and I tried to pinpoint whose it was. Even after being here for three full semesters and one summer semester, I still didn’t know everyone’s voices by memory.
“It’s open,” I called out, relieved when I saw my fellow Finance professor, John Kassidy, walk through the door. I liked John. I wouldn’t say we were friends yet—not really—but he had welcomed me to the University with open arms when I had started here nearly two years ago, and he was always quick to offer a hand if I needed it. Which had happened more than I cared to admit during my first year of teaching.
And at least he wasn’t one of those gossipy women from the hallway who was just trying to find out about university drama. Well, at least I didn’t think he was.
“What’s up, John?” I asked, looking up at him as he clutched an armful of papers in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.
“Just wanted to check to make sure you were coming to the Staff and Faculty mixer this Friday. Dean Thomas expects us all to be there.” He shot me a glare that said you’re not getting out of this.
Damn. I held back my groan. “John, you know those aren’t really my scene…”
I hated them. Despised them, even. They just meant more interactions with the other faculty, half of whom were always trying to figure out if I was dating anyone. And why was everyone so obsessed with my dating life, anyway? The answer was a resounding no, but I suspected some of it was that the younger faculty were trying to figure out if they could make a move, but I always slapped on my best grumpy expression, hoping it would deter them. And if not, ignoring them usually did the trick.
And it had, so far. Well… mostly. Still, I would have rather been anywhere else on a Friday night than at the University. Like at home, with my dog, sitting on the couch and watching television, or reading a book. Goodness knows I’d prefer almost anything than to mingle with a bunch of staff and other faculty members, but apparently, I was fully roped into this shit now.
Great. Simply great. How could I possibly get out of this?
“Please come,” John said, almost pleading with me. “They’re so boring without good company.” Then he flashed a grin at me, and I rolled my eyes.
Yes, I wanted to shout, that’s why I don’t want to go! But John was determined—absolutely determined—to get me there, and I really couldn’t think of an excuse. “I—” I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off.
“Think good and long about your excuse, Professor Harper, because it’s the first week of school and I know you don’t already have a bunch of assignments to grade,” John smirked. “So I better see you there.”
