Page 109 of Love, Academically
Sue spluttered, her face an interesting puce colour.
“However, now that you have some apprehension of these defects in both your personal awareness and professional skill level, I feel sure that you will discuss the matter of the late submission of the application with the appropriate Admissions Officer and secure an extension to allow Miss Cartwright’s application to be considered.”
“How did you, how do you—”
Rhys cut her off with a wave of his hand. This was not her show.
“If that is not the case, then I’m sure that the Vice Chairman and the Head of HR, both of whom I am well acquainted with, will be very interested to hear about the vicious and spiteful way in which you manage your hardworking staff members.”
Sue looked like her brain was ready to explode. He would lay abet that in all her years, no one hadeverspoken to her like that. Well, she fucking deserved it.
It wasn’t how you managed people – fuck, it wasn’t even how you treated people, and then she had the gall to come in and gloat about it in a public environment to someone who had literally nothing to do with the situation. Nope. Not today, Satan.
Sue said nothing. Her mouth opened and closed like a schoolchild caught in a lie. Rhys waited. Emotions flew across her face and there was no way he cared enough to work out what they were. He was in the right here and Sue was definitely slap-bang in the middle of ‘wrong’.
“Uh, well, I uh…”
Sue finally gave up and threw her hands in the air before storming out of the room, hissing profanities. If he was petty and petulant (which he was not), then he would have asked her to repeat herself and then reported her to HR for the use of foul language in the workplace.
And then he would have taken her coffee to her, white no sugar.
What a twat.
Lila
There had been so many RSVPs to the meet and greet. It was amazing that people wanted to come. Well, perhaps it was the promise of a glass or two of dodgy sangria, some plain tortillas and the garlickiest guacamole she could make. Students, lecturers, admin staff; lots of people would be stopping by, so much so she’d had to move it to one of the bigger seminar rooms. Even people from outside the department had got wind of it and wanted to come. Excellent.
She’d persuaded Rhys to come and help set up (i.e., told him he had to) and prepared tinny mariachi music to play from her little portable speaker. Bunting had been found in the stationerycupboard and Rhys’s pert little bum was in particularly good form as he stood on a chair to pin it across the wall.
“Dan’s coming,” Rhys said over his shoulder as he stretched to stick the last plastic triangle to the corner. “That’s all right, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, course it is.” She liked Dan and it was good to form relationships with other departments. Not to mention the fact that he was Rhys’s best (only?) friend, and her best friend’s boyfriend. It would be good to get to know him better. “The more the merrier.”
Rhys stepped down and looked like he had something else to say, probably something about telling Dan about their ‘status’, but wisely kept his mouth shut. It wasn’t that she didn’t want people to know, it was just that she didn’t want the fuss, the exclamation, the judgment behind the eyes that someone like Rhys would want a mess of a person like her. It was just better to let people notice organically. Easier.
She thought she’d been happy before, but what she really wanted was someone to share her life with, someone who would support her and respect her. Finding that in the most unlikely of places (a very stroppy, highly strung academic) just made her grin. She hadn’t even been looking. The swearing off all men tactic had gone spectacularly badly in the best way.
Rhys stepped down from the chair narrowed his eyes at her.
“What are you smiling at?”
“Hmm, just… things,” she said, resting her hands on his chest. “I’m happy.”
Happiness flashed across Rhys’s eyes and a soft smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.
“Good,” he said. “I am too.”
Rhys was happy withher, no changes needed. Warmth spread through her chest.
“Oh, uh sorry, Miss Cartwright.” DeVon cleared his throat behind them. “Has it started yet?”
“DeVon,” she said, stepping away from Rhys, whose hand lingered on her waist. “Thanks for coming. Help yourself to a drink, some nachos.”
“Okay,” he said, heading for the lukewarm sangria. “The others will be here soon.”
The absolute worst outcome for a party was if no one actually turned up. Or one person came and stood there awkwardly until they could feasibly leave the room.
“Good,” she said.
