Page 33 of Beautifully Complicated

“Good. I was trying to think if there’s anything he can’t do, and I couldn’t come up with anything,” I fib, hoping Grace doesn’t recall the last thing she said about him was that he’s still not himself.

“Jennifer used to rave about him,” Daniel offers. “I was hoping to get him myself before you got here.”

“Isn’t your focus information security? That’s not his area of interest, correct?” I ask.

“No, but who wouldn’t want the smartest student in the department as their assistant. Besides, he’s nice to look at.”

I set my glass on the table so hard a quarter of the liquid sloshes out of it.How dare he talk about Aiden like that.

“Whoa, you okay?” Daniel asks.

“I thought the table was further away.” I reach for some napkins to mop the spill, hoping he bought that excuse, and that my face doesn’t betray what I really thought about that comment. “Is that something we’re allowed to say about the students?”

“I don’t see why not. It’s just an observation.” Daniel shrugs nonchalantly. “Besides, the students say it about you, too.”

“Me?” My palms are suddenly sweaty.

The last thing I need is to be mixed up in gossip about attractive students and teachers.

“Professor Dreamy.” Daniel confirms. “It’s a little unoriginal, but this is the computer science department, so…” He sips his martini instead of finishing the thought.

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that,” I sputter, wondering if Aiden’s among the students who use that moniker.He wouldn’t be that careless, right?

“It’s harmless,” Daniel insists. “Right Grace?”

“It probably shouldn’t be encouraged—workplace ethics and all that—but I understand what you’re trying to say. Attractive people tend to draw attention, and in the case of students, nicknames.” She gives me a slightly embarrassed look, as if this isn’t the first time she’s heard the nickname they’ve assigned me.

“Well, I’d prefer not to talk about Aiden’s looks since that’s not why he’s my assistant,” I say.

Daniel has the decency to turn a little pink, so I decide not to harp on the issue any further, especially since I’m guilty of far more than just admiring Aiden’s looks. And I have no right to act as his protector.

If only I could stop thinking of him as mine.

Chapter ten

Aiden

What’s the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result?

I guess that means I’m losing my mind.

Day after day I go to work for Kier, researching and testing machine learning algorithms. But it’s not this analysis that’s repetitive. It’s sitting in the room with Kier, pretending like I’m immune to his proximity. Like my spirit isn’t crushed each time he gives me something to do without looking me in the eye, as if we’re nothing more than work associates.

I know that’s all we’re supposed to be, but that’s not all we are. It never will be. Not unless we could somehow erase that night. And I’d rather suffer through these torturous hours for eternity, pretending my body doesn’t crave his with a need so visceral it literally shakes, than delete it from my memory.

Still, I can’t deny that each time I set foot in this room, I hope for a different result. I hope today will be the one his eyes finally meet mine. Or his fingers brush affectionately against my skin. Hell, I’d even settle for a smile, whether it’s directed at me or not. Anything other than the vacant, expressionless mask he forces himself to wear around me.

Foot bouncing under the desk, I hunch over the keyboard, typing. Though my body is high-strung, my mind is surprisingly calm. I love what I’m doing, which is probably the only reason I haven’t tipped into a full-blown breakdown. Numbers bring me purpose, help me focus, so that the need to scream in frustration and despair fades, and I momentarily forget that my life is so bleak.

That more often than not, I go through the entire day without talking to a single other person.

Five out of six of my roommates are consumed with classes and football right now—even though Bennet’s technically still recovering from an injury he’s still at practices—and the sixth works just like I do. Our schedules don’t line up very well, and even when we’re all home, I go out of my way to stay in my room, so I don’t have to watch three happy couples cuddled on the couch while I sit by myself, like a little island. I’m not even avoiding Bennet and Damien specifically; I’m avoiding anything that might serve as a stark reminder of what I don’t have.

As for work and classes, they’re pretty solitary activities, so I don’t even have to isolate myself if I don’t feel like talking. I can slip into and out of class without socializing if I’m not in the mood to chat, which I do more often than not since I’m not sure I can muster the energy to sound happy.

That wasn’t always the case. I used to exchange pleasantries with my classmates. Talk shop about the things we’re learning. Occasionally, I still do, but mostly I just sit at the desk, take my notes, and leave. Besides, Kier is the best person for me to talk to about what I’m learning or working on, and he limits his communication to emails. Even if we’re sitting in the same room. He’d rather write a message than engage in any dialogue.

Speaking of, a notification pops up on my screen that I’ve got a new one, so I click into it and read that Kier is providing me with a sample gait to use in my work. There’s an attachment containing the LEGSys analysis of a stride that he’d like me to teach my algorithm to recognize.

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