Page 12 of Follows with Intent

“I found out about the seminar late.” The smile was more of a smirk now. “Thank God Dr. Perry and Dr. Meza are friends. I would have hated to miss out on this opportunity.”

Branches scraped the leaded glass window. The silence in the room—particularly from the other three students—had dialed in on Clark.

“You mean you didn’t even apply?” Maya asked.

“I found out too late,” Clark said. Nico remembered that too-smooth tone. “I would have applied, of course, if I’d known.”

Across the room, Kaylee blurted, “That’s so unfair.”

Ridson shook his head.

“It’s the way the world works,” Gio said. “I didn’t know anyone at the New Yorker when I submitted my latest piece—”

“Was that Karl Jaspers thing yours?” Clark said. “That was cute.”

Say one thing for Clark Beaumont, Nico thought. He’s good at putting people in their place.

While Gio apparently died a slow death by humiliation, Clark turned back to Nico and Maya. He set his hand on the back of Nico’s chair—just casual enough that it could be taken for friendliness, but the way his thumb traced Nico’s shoulder blade, anything but. “Don’t tell me you’re fucking him, please. I’ve seen his videos; you can do better.”

“Not that it’s any of your business—” Nico began.

There was the smirk again. The spark of suggestion in Clark’s blue eyes. His thumb moved again, millimeters, and Nico remembered what it had felt like when Clark had bit down on his collarbone.

“—but no. I was telling Maya that I don’t think it’s smart or appropriate or professional to do that kind of thing at conferences.” And he added a long, warning look for Clark.

“I don’t think that’s necessarily true,” Clark said. “Obviously you should be circumspect. But what you do on your own time, well, it’s your business. Personally, I think conferences are great opportunities to meet people. I mean, we’re all so specialized, and we’re in this intellectual hothouse, and how often do we get to spend time around people who share our interests—” His thumb scritched at Nico’s shoulder blade again. The corner of his mouth quirked. “—and passions?”

“And how much do you want to be labeled,” Maya asked drily, “in not so many words, as a poser fuckboy who’s wasting everyone’s time?”

“I’m not saying—”

“I know what you’re saying. And did you ever think about the fact that there are a lot of double standards in place? It’s fine for a straight white man. It’s probably even fine for a gay white man. But if you’re a person of color? Or if you’re a woman? All you’re doing is throwing fuel on the fire that a lot of these bigots already have burning. You’re speaking from a position of privilege, and you don’t even know it.”

A hint of color came into Clark’s cheeks. He shifted in his seat, his body squared up with Maya’s now. “Nothing’s going to change if we all keep pretending things are okay and do whatever they expect us to do. There’s nothing wrong with meeting someone at a professional event and, at an appropriate time, pursuing that relationship. We should be pushing back on anyone who says otherwise.”

“Great point, Clark,” Nico said. “That’ll be my subversive agenda: get plowed at every possible work event.”

“Excuse me?”

The voice belonged to an old man with dandelion-fluff hair. Nico recognized, from his publicity photos, Dr. Chapman. Behind him was Dr. Young, dressed in a butterfly-patterned muumuu, and Dr. Meza, fiftyish and practically throbbing with silver fox energy. Meza gave Nico a tiny, crooked smile before he rolled his eyes.

“I’m sorry—” Nico stammered. “We were—I was—”

“I don’t believe,” Dr. Chapman piped as he moved into the room, “I should have to explain to a roomful of rising scholars the kind of behavior—and discourse—that’s appropriate for serious professionals.”

5

Jadon

“Unh-uh,” Jadon said. “Nope. No way.”

“Because you’re intimidated by him,” Allison said.

Vic shook his head. “Because he’s scared.”

“Fuck you,” Jadon said. “And fuck you. Respectfully.”

Allison laughed. Vic shook his head again, grinning.

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