Page 12 of The Art of Professing Love

“Goodness, you’re usually so much chattier,” my cousin remarked. “Well, I’m sure I shall talk to you again soon.”

“I’m sure you will. Bye, cousin.”

I hung up and clutched the phone to my breast, wishing I could go back in time and be honest from the beginning. Everything would have been much easier if only I hadn’t slept with Irving for one fateful night.

10

IRVING

After my tardiness on Friday, I managed to get to the university on time on Monday morning. No one had questioned my appearance a few days earlier, but I’d dressed extra well today to ensure the memory of me looking disheveled and sleep-deprived would be erased. I was still waiting for my replacement glasses to arrive, and though no one had mentioned the twine wrapped around the middle of these ones, Cyrus had given me a funny look the day I came in late.

I resolved to go to the library after work and close my application. At this rate, it was highly possible that Sylvan had already spoken to his cousin and fixed it so that we were both back in the dating pool, which was the last thing I wanted. Then again, he was a scatterbrained fellow, and it wouldn’t surprise me one bit if he forgot.

The moment I entered the hallway to my office, Cyrus emerged from behind his door with a large package tucked under his arm and an amused expression on his face.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he told me.

“Oh?” I raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

“This is for you. It arrived this morning right after I got in.”

He presented me with the package that was wrapped in what looked like recycled brown paper and I frowned, leaning in a little closer to read the address.

“Oh, no, he wouldn’t…”

“But he did.” Cyrus held back a laugh. “Now, tell me, who is this mysterious Sylvan Lockwood fellow who’s sending gifts to your workplace?”

I gave Cyrus a sharp glance. “No one. Here, let me take that to my office. I would prefer to open it in private.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m quite sure. Now, hand it over.”

Cyrus gave me the package and I immediately knew what that fool of a fae had sent me. I’d insulted his art and now he was punishing me by sending me one to keep. It wouldn’t match the decor in my apartment, but if he was telling the truth about his works selling for thousands of dollars, it might be worth holding onto for the sheer value alone.

I locked my office door behind me, set the painting on my desk, and untied the twine that looked suspiciously like the same twine he’d used on my glasses. The twine dropped to the floor and I tore open the parcel paper, the shreds of brown paper falling away as the picture slowly revealed itself.

“It can’t be,” I murmured, hastily pulling the remaining bits of paper off. “That wily little bastard.” Lying on my desk in front of me was a full-length depiction of me, seductively posed, and… ”I’m naked.”

Before I could fully comprehend what I was staring at, someone jiggled the handle of my door, knocking when they couldn’t open it.

“Just a moment,” I called out.

I grabbed the strips of paper off the floor and set them on top of the painting to cover it. No one else could ever see this painting. I didn’t mind admitting that it was tasteful in its depiction of nudity, but no one at my work let alone a student needed to see that side of me in any form, tasteful or otherwise.

I tucked the painting under my desk and opened the door to let in the student patiently waiting for me, apologizing for the inconvenience.

Once they had gone, questions satisfactorily answered and now headed off to their first class of the day, I carefully pulled the painting back out and wrapped it in my coat to take home later. As I let my eyes rove over it one last time, I had to force back a smile. I shouldn’t have been amused by this. I shouldn’t have liked the painting as much as I did. I should have been angry with Sylvan, but I was and I did, and I simply couldn’t bring myself to be annoyed no matter how hard I tried.

The urge to see him again, to call his number and hear his voice on the other end, was overpowering, but I couldn’t let myself fall into that trap. I needed to avoid getting into a situationship with Sylvan at all costs because we were too different in every other aspect for that story to end happily.

After work, I found myself facing the task I’d promised I would do that afternoon: I had to go to the library and explain that I needed to close my matchmaking application – for good. If Sylvan hadn’t already told the Librarian that we were not planning on pursuing our relationship further, they were bound to be disappointed hearing it from me. They weren’t my cousin, though, so luckily I wouldn’t have to deal with the flak.

“Hello, how may I help you, Professor?” they asked as I walked in, the bell on the door jingling all too cheerily.

“Please, call me Irving.” I smiled. “It’s been a long time since you were in my class and needed to call me ‘professor’ still.”

The Librarian laughed. “Old habits die hard, I’m afraid, but I’ll make an effort to let that one go. So, Irving, what brings you in here today?”

---