Page 36 of The Romance Rivalry

Aiden turns around, and the cocky smile and solo eyebrow lift on his face make me want to beat him. We’re not in competition in this class—technically, we’re in partnership—but I still have the overwhelming sense that I have to outdo him. I need to make our professor like me more, to think I’m a greater literary mind, see me as the expert on all things about the romance genre especially.

I’m used to fighting for scraps of attention at home. Do I have to do it here with my professor, too?

“Aiden, it was a pleasure. And I’m definitely going to pickup that book you recommended and see what this ‘romantasy’ is all about,” he says as he shakes Aiden’s hand.

“I’m looking forward to hearing your thoughts, Dr. Kingston. I hope you’re not prone to blushing or pearl-clutching. That one’s at least three chili peppers.”

“Chili peppers.” Dr. Kingston laughs as if he’s just been told the most wonderfully charming piece of information. “I’m quite confident I can handle the”—he leans in toward Aiden as if to tell him a deep secret—“spice.” And then pulls back.

What. The. Hell.

Aiden walks past me to leave with one last chin lift as he goes.

Sure, see you later, bro.

“Irene, close the door and come sit,” Dr. Kingston invites me.

Close the door? How come Aiden didn’t have to meet with the door closed?

The dark cloud of dread makes its way over my head and settles there. This can’t be good.

I do as I’m told and then take a seat across the desk from Dr. Kingston. I would guess he’s in his mid-fifties, with some grays along his hairline and wire-rimmed glasses framing his face. He’s what I imagined every college professor to look like. I don’t know how to impress someone like this. He likely has no idea who my sister or my brother are, so I can’tname-drop my siblings. I could just take the route I do with my parents and simply agree with everything he says.

“Hello, Irene. Are you enjoying your time in this class?”

“Yes, I am, thank you.”

“I hear you’re quite the accomplished and prolific reader.”

“Yes, I really enjoy reading.”

“And I recall in one of your weekly assignments you mentioned wanting to be an editor?”

“Yes, I’m studying to be an editor.”

“And you said the one genre you absolutely will not read is romance?”

“Yes, I don’t read... wait... I’m sorry... what did you ask me?”

He clasps his hands in front of him on the desk and I clasp mine in my lap. My heart pounds faster and faster and I know, I just know, I’m about to get in trouble. He caught me in agreeable robot mode and I’m busted. I’ve never been in trouble a day in my life.

“Irene, I have had the immense pleasure of watching some of your book review content online. You are wonderfully knowledgeable about stories, romance novels especially, and incredibly articulate and witty in delivering your thoughts. I very much was looking forward to growing with you in class this semester. But so far, your weekly assignments have been woefully surface-level, as if you’re doing the bare minimum by writing what you think I want to read. And I’mwondering if you’re not enjoying this class. What can I do as your instructor to help you enjoy this class?”

I immediately want to run away and hide.

Do not cry. Do not let shame overcome you.

“The class is a bit... overwhelming,” I admit.

“Tell me more,” he encourages me.

“Well, I’m not quite understanding all the concepts, and it makes me question if I’m fit to be talking about books at all, to be honest.”

“Irene, I promise you that I am of the mindset that books and reading are meant to be fun. And understanding the general format of literature and story is meant to increase that enjoyment. I’d love for you to give this class a chance. Maybe let yourself step out of your comfort zone, not only in what you read, but how you think about what you’re reading. Romance novels are wonderful. Romance in the context of the world through the eyes of so many other books is even more satisfying.”

I nod as he waxes poetic, bracing myself for when he finally gets to the part where he says I’m failing and need to drop the class.

“What’s your favorite romance trope?” he asks me.

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