Page 50 of Another Life

He shakes his head and points his finger at me. And from any other man, I would accept a lot less. I have to remind myself that this is my friend. That when I had nowhere to go, I slept on his couch. He was the best man at my wedding, and I was at his.

“I offered you this job because I thought you wanted some time out of the spotlight after your messy divorce.” The reminder stings but I don’t hold much weight in what the latest gossip is anyway. Hollywood is fucking stupid. A waste of space, more often than not.

“You offered me this job because you needed help getting students interested in this department again,” I remind him. “And people are going to talk, no matter what.”

“You’re going to make it worse for yourself, fucking my goddamn students!”

“I’m notjustfucking her,” I insist, wishing he would stop talking like she’s some kind of cheap transaction. She isn’t like the others. She never was. “She’s…different.” I fight the desire to keep her close to my chest, the ache there making it hard to be rational.

I ignore the way Tómas rolls his eyes, determined to not let my protectiveness of her permanently damage my friendship with him.

“All the more reason to stop this. But if you don’t, I’ll have to put an end to it.”

I still, staring at him, feeling the heat of anger rise within me.

“Are you threatening me?”

“You and I have been friends for decades. But if you can’t have the discipline to protect yourself, I’ll have to do it foryou.” He says the words like they’re that simple. Like I require assistance taking care of myself. Like I’m not here to savehisass.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ll remove her from the program.” It’s a simple statement that makes my blood run cold. Surely, he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

“You can’t do that,” I shake my head, exhaling. “She’ll sue you and I’ll help her.”

“What do you think her future will look like, after dealing with a mess like that? You think she’ll go on to live successfully?” He leans forward, as if to make sure I hear him clearly. “She’ll be forever marked by this ordeal. Labeled a whore?—”

I’m standing before I can help myself, fuming.

“Vaffanculo! Non sono affari tuoi,” I grit out, glaring at him.

“Itismy business. The reputation of this school is my business.” His eyes soften as he stands, straightening the waist of his slacks with his chest puffed out. “As is the reputation of my dearest friend.”

He presses his palms together, holding them still a moment. Then he points them toward me and I await the sound of the other shoe dropping.

“Think about what I said. Make the right decision,amico.”

Without another word, he opens the door and walks out of my office.

By the time I see Sabrina in class later that day, I’m in awretched mood. I’m not a man with much patience for things I don’t enjoy doing in general.

I don’t enjoy teaching. And now that it has the potential to harm someone I care deeply for, I’ve lost every desire to do it.

I should walk out of here and never return. But I can’t find the stomach to, knowing it would blow back on someone else I also care for.

Lust made me clumsy, and emotions made me careless.

I’ve asked question after question to the class, ignoring Sabrina’s raised hand and losing what little patience I have left to stand here, babysitting these little shitheads.

“Mannaggia! It’s a wonder you are all here for an education, given how fucking dim-witted the majority of you are.”

In my frustration, I toss the chalk across the room, ignoring the way it snaps and skitters in different directions.

When I look up, I my gaze snags on the green pair of eyes that stare at me, but I turn around, unable to face her, and yell, “Class dismissed. Get out, all of you.”

I pray, that when I turn back, she won’t be here, wondering what the hell has gotten into me. Because if she does, I’ll never let her go.

Still, I yearn to feel her soft palm at the center of my back, asking me what’s changed, insisting we can make figure this out together.

---