Page 36 of Beautifully Complicated

He shakes his head slowly.

“Even knowing why you lied, why you can trust your feelings this time around, there’s a clear conflict of interest here,” he says.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” I hate how desperate I sound.

“For me, my reputation might take a bit of a hit. I’d never teach again, but I could find another job. For you, you might not get to that first job. Maybe you don’t even graduate.”

“You’re not even technically my teacher.” My voice is so soft even I can barely hear it.

“But I am a mentor, so you’d be accused of getting special treatment, even if it weren’t true. That stigma would follow you, make people question why they should hire you, and my recommendation would mean nothing.”

“Even after I graduate? Wouldn’t things be different then?” My damp eyes find his equally defeated ones.

“I don’t know the answer to that. Depending on whether you go for a masters, go straight into a job… There are too many factors to say for sure.”

I have so many objections to make, all of which I know are futile, because he’s right. Nothing changes, no matter how much we might wish otherwise. It’s so disheartening I can’t even find my voice. All I can do is nod.

“Take the afternoon off. Get some rest.” He sounds as tired as I feel. “It’s going to be a long year.”

Chapter eleven

Kier

OCTOBER

After our little heart-to-heart Aiden and I aren’t avoiding each other the way we did at first, but things are still awkward.

I basically admitted to having feelings for him, and he did the same, which has made things both better and worse. Better in the sense that we no longer work in silence, although we only discuss our research. By unspoken agreement we don’t talk about the things that endeared us to one another in the first place, like movies and sports teams. We don’t venture into new territory either, like favorite foods or weekend plans. Everything said aloud is limited to the data we’re reviewing, leaving no room for emotion to creep in.

Theoretically.

But since we’re both passionate about work, even those conversations make my feelings grow, which almost makes things worse than they were to begin with.

Aiden speaks my language. Sometimes he’ll finish my thoughts. Others he’ll pose a timely theory. His grasp of a complex subject is remarkable, especially given his age, and since he’s driven by a desire to do good rather than to make money or accumulate power, his motivation is admirable.

I’m awed by his mind. His heart. His beauty. Everything. So much so, I think even if we hadn’t met before, I’d still find myself wanting him in ways I shouldn’t.

Sitting at my desk, reading the comments he made on a student’s paper—comments exactly like what I would make had I been the first one to read it—I can’t help wondering what might’ve happened if I wasn’t so willing to get to Colorado.

Ours is a niche field. One that would’ve eventually brought us into contact with one another, and if I’d just had more patience, maybe our second meeting would have been as potential colleagues instead of a mentor and his charge. We’d have been free to resume exactly where we left off without any consequences.

Of course, that would have meant at least a year of wondering. Pining for a man I didn’t know how to find and feeling distraught most of the time, but I feel like that now, so… Which is worse, the not knowing or the knowing with your hands helplessly bound?

Not for the first time, Aiden’s question about where we’d stand after graduation surfaces.

If one or both of us is no longer at Front Range University, that would seemingly eliminate any roadblocks, provided I have no further part in his education or career. Unfortunately, the fact we’re both here now means there’s going to be some overlap.

Should he want to pursue a higher degree, my recommendation will open that door. Should he want to go straight into the workforce, once again it’s my influence that will make that happen. I can’t withhold my opinion about his capabilities without damaging his opportunities for advancement, but by the same token any praise I bestow will lose its meaning if we’re together.

At the very least, I have to give him a referral for whatever he chooses to do, so people don’t question why he didn’t deserve one. And once that referral is made, I’d have to give him time to prove himself to whomever he’s reporting to, be that another professor or a boss.

At best that puts us at least a year away from pursuing the feelings we have. At worst, two. Neither scenario holds much appeal, but I don’t see any other options.

My phone dings, reminding me that I’m due in the lab in five minutes.

If it wouldn’t raise some eyebrows, I’d plan my day so that Aiden and I would be there separately, but in addition to the fact my colleagues would question the effectiveness of having an assistant that doesn’t actively assist me… I don’t want to. As torturous as it is to be in the same room and not act on the urge to touch him, the thought of not seeing him at all is just as unappealing.

Aiden’s head is bowed when I arrive, focused on the phone he holds on his lap. That in and of itself is odd—he’s not the type to waste time scrolling aimlessly—though it’s the strange voice coming from the speaker that really captures my interest. It’s both nasally and authoritative, demanding attention.

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