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They shouldn’t be joking around like this. And Colin shouldnothave touched her hand on Kara’s balcony the way he had. Truce or no truce, they weren’t friends. Or anything else. Every interaction with him was starting to feel too risky, like reopening a wound that hadn’t healed.
They needed distance. And space. Six feet and two years of silence between them at all times. Allison muted her phone and placed it upside down on the table. That at least was a start.
She heard the clink of bangle stacks as her professor rounded the table and pulled out the chair across from her. She was much less formal in a pair of dark skinny jeans and a tailored dolman-sleeved top. The lavender fabric was spotted with silver bicycles. On her left arm she wore a woven black leather cuff with an ornate snap and a row of black and white bangles. Her ash-blond hair framed her face in loose waves.
Professor Frances smiled warmly as she sat down. “Allison, thanksfor meeting me on such short notice.” Her blue eyes scanned the other empty seats. “No Colin yet?”
Allison rested her hand over her phone. She should explain that he’d let her know he was running late. But the competitive part of her resisted. She wasn’t his assistant or his secretary. It wasn’t her job to make excuses for his whereabouts.
Still, she couldn’t stop her mind from drifting back to the look on his face when he’d asked for that truce. His hazel eyes had been so soft and unsure. He’d meant it. And she’d agreed.
Plus, he was right. They didn’t need to compete for Professor Frances’s approval. She’d chosen them both as her TAs, so she must view them as equally promising scholars.
“My sound was off. Let me see if he reached out.” Allison poked around on her phone’s screen, pretending to check her messages.
Just as she was about to confirm he was running late, Colin appeared at the table. Sweat stippled his temples and brow, and the lenses of his maroon glasses were fogged. He was breathing raggedly, as if he’d sprinted straight here.
Professor Frances glanced at her watch and then at him. “There you are.” There was nothing judgmental in her tone, and she was smiling, but that didn’t stop Colin from flinching. Allison would have done the same. Lateness was a mortal sin for overachievers.
“I’m so sorry. My car wouldn’t start, and I had to bike here.” Colin gulped air as his eyes cut to Allison. “I let Allison know.”
“I was just about to tell her.” Allison flashed him her phone with his text prominently on display.
His brows arched in surprise, disappearing beneath a tousle of his hair. Without the usual layer of gel, it was loose and messy, basically begging for fingers to get tangled in it.
Damn him for being a hot (in every sense of the word) mess. And for doubting her commitment to their truce. Allison could have easily undermined him just now, but she didn’t. It had taken herculean effort and a lot of self-control.
Clearly, she was winning at not competing.
Plus, could she even be sure he would do the same for her? Two years ago, she would have said no with certainty. But this Colin seemed different from the guy she’d known at Brown. Back then, he’d been overconfident and determined to prove to everyone that he was the best at everything. Yet, for all his bluster that first day in Professor Frances’s class, the Claymore Colin Benjamin (Colin 2.0, if you would) hesitated before speaking. At Kara’s party, he’d wanted to hear what Allison had to say instead of talking over her (at least before he’d yacked everywhere). If she was being honest with herself,she’dbeen the one on competition overdrive these last few weeks.
But none of that matters,she told herself. It couldn’t. He was still Colin Benjamin, the guy who’d stolen the Rising Star Award out from under her, then dumped her days later, without so much as an apology. If she wasn’t… well,her…that might have marked the end of all her grad school career before it had even started. And he was still the guy currently standing between Allison and everything she wanted.
The reminder burned a hole in her stomach. It was exactly what she needed.
Professor Frances had been digging in her tote bag and finally reemerged, a wallet in hand. “Do we want to talk before or after food?”
“Before,” Allison said.
“After,” Colin contradicted her.
They glanced at each other, both of their mouths twitching.
Professor Frances observed the food service areas behind her. “Let’s get something before the line grows.”
The cafeteria was small but well stocked. It had a whole breakfast bar still active as well as a deli station, pasta station, salad bar, and daily entrée, which looked like some sort of chicken in cream sauce. Allison swerved by without stopping. Breakfast was always her first choice, no matter the time of day.
Ordering a waffle piled high with strawberries and cream, turkey bacon, and a kale smoothie, she leaned against her tray, her eyes straying toward the drink kiosk. Colin and Professor Frances both pumped coffee into their reusable mugs. She was too far away to read their lips, but Colin said something, and the two of them laughed.
Allison’s hands turned to fists at her sides. He was doing that thing again, flipping his charisma on like a flashlight. Whomever he pointed it at would be caught in his spell. That’s probably what he’d done in his recitations, too. He didn’t need any knowledge of medieval lit. All he had to do was smile and crack a joke and his students would love him.
Doing her best to keep her tray steady, Allison stomped back to her seat. Professor Frances had invited them to lunch to discuss their teaching. That meant Allison was going to have to sit here and listen to how amazingly well Colin’s classes were going. And then, against her better judgment, she was going to have to lie. Again. Or risk exposing that she was a terrible teacher. And no pact, mild or otherwise, would force Allison to show that kind of weakness.
Not to Wendy Frances.
And certainly not to Colin.
By the time they’d returned to the table, Allison had sawed her entire waffle into individual squares. On each, she’d piled one strawberry and a dollop of whipped cream. The uniformity was comforting. There was control in it. Order. The world on Allison’s plate made sense in a way her real one never would, especially with Colin around, stirring up endless chaos.
