Page 84 of Devilry

“Dude, I’m not your keeper.”

“I know, but you’re right, I’m looking at it too much, and I should be concentrating more.”

“It happens,” he assures me. “We all have off days.”

I don’t bother arguing or explaining anything to him, because it would be pointless. Truthfully, I am having an off day. I’m getting through the workload, and doing my part, but I’m also trying to balance the hundreds of thoughts filtering around in my brain. I’m trying to compartmentalize and I’m not having any luck with it.

Cole has infiltrated everything. The research project reminds me of him. When I’m doing the homework for his class, I’m thinking of him. When I’m in the shower, I’m thinking of him. And when I’m in bed… He’s everywhere.

I’m not necessarily waiting on a message from him but rather I find myself obsessing over him in general. In this moment it’s wondering if he’s going to grace us with his presence this afternoon. He’s supposed to do some timesheet checks, and I’m on tenterhooks for him to walk through that door.

Since the night at his place, we’ve spoken on the phone and texted every day, numerous times throughout the day. Considering our schedules are so different, and I’m trying to appear much cooler and more collected than I actually am, it’s working for us. But while I find myself completely satisfied by our verbal and intellectual connection, my body aches for him; aches for more.

To try and rid myself of all this pent-up tension, I’ve found myself running more often and for longer periods of time than I ever have before. I’m trying to channel everything I feel for Cole into one manageable activity.

I feel like I’ve been twisted inside out, in the best possible way, over this man. He’s not just an attractive guy who could keep me around with his skill to wring orgasm after orgasm out of me. He’s funny and compassionate. He’s smart and interesting. He’s the whole fucking package that I can feel myself becoming dangerously addicted to.

“Elijah.” Shari’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “Elijah,” she repeats.

“Sorry.” I shake my head and steer my focus to what’s important.

“Did you bring the papers?” she asks.

“Of course.” Pulling out four plastic sleeves filled with stapled booklets, I hand one to each of the other students.

“This is a detailed report of everything I found out on the change in cultures, the impact of conflict, and the misrepresentation of radicalism within religions.” Each of them flick through the information I’ve provided. I probably could’ve printed one communal paper for us to share, but I figured this way everybody would be able to dissect the information in their own time, and in their own way. By allowing an array of details, interpretations, and explanations to be collated, I think we’re giving ourselves an advantage of an extensive and well-informed submission.

“This is great stuff, Elijah,” Jenna praises. “I can’t even imagine the amount of time you’re putting into research, to be coming across findings of such high quality as these.”

“I just can’t sleep once I’ve set my mind on something, so I’ll find myself forgetting about the time, completely immersed in the task at hand.”

“Elijah, man,” Louis says. “You’re never allowed to sleep again.”

A loud melody of laughter floats between the four of us and I enjoy their understanding and appreciation for my efforts. I’m starting to realize how different it is when you meet people with similar interests and priorities as yourself.

“So, do you guys think we’ve got enough to submit part one?” The research project is split up into four sections, each one having its own due date to ensure we remain on track and that there’s no chance anybody is leaving anything to the last minute. Each section is appraised twice. The first time allows for any feedback given to be addressed and the submission improved. The second time is the final version of the project.

“I think once we add the new information you collected, we should be fine,” Jenna answers.

The four of us begin to make more notes and delegations between us, wanting to finish off as much as we can before parting for the night, when a confident and carefree looking Cole strolls on in.

Awareness ripples through me, my body heating up instantly. The mere sight of him enough to tip me on my axis.

“Hey, Professor Huxley,” Jenna greets.

Inconspicuously, or at least I hope so, I let my eyes follow his movements and watch him forcefully tear his gaze away from me to focus on Jenna.

“Jenna.” He nods at her in acknowledgement. “How are you all today?”

“Good,” Shari chimes in, raising a whole bunch of papers up to him. “We just need you to sign off on this weeks’ hours and we’ll be good to go.”

“I can do that.” He takes the papers off her and sits at the open space at the end of the table. Directly opposite me.

“Do you guys all have class this evening?” he asks. “Or are you finished for the day?”

“Actually, I was going to say something earlier,” Louis looks to me. “I won’t be able to stay back tonight. I have another group assignment that’s kicking my ass and I don’t trust the other students I was paired with to get it done without me.”

“No worries, man,” I say. “If any of you have plans and can’t stay back, don’t stress. I can finish off today’s stuff, no problem. I’ll send it all via email, and you all can double check what I’ve done, where we’re at, and work out what’s left.”

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