Page 42 of Love, Academically
To suggest, disclose, or partially outline
Rhys
There was a nice pub about thirty minutes from the university and then only about ten minutes back to Lila’s house, so that worked. But he was tense and a bit frustrated. How could she not have asked him to help her? Surely,surely, he had proved himself capable of helping?
She could have asked him.
She should have asked her friends for help, and they should have helped her, regardless of whether they had a baby or not.
It was his own shortcomings that he was mostly angry about. The simple fact was that he should have checked on her. Not via email, but in person. He had been so wrapped up in his own stuff that he wouldn’t let himself think about her, and when the thought of walking down the corridor, leaning on the doorframe to her office and checking on herin personpopped into his head, he quickly dismissed it. He didn’t think about her at all. Not one bit. Except when he was sitting in her office, surrounded by her vanilla glittery-ness. Then he couldn’tstopthinking about her, couldn’t stop watching her throat bob in a swallow, the crease of her forehead as she tried to do something on her computer. After the seminar, he couldn’t concentrate onhis work, so he’d resorted to staring out of the window, hoping for divine inspiration. Instead, he’d had an interruption from the distraction herself.
Now she was sitting next to him, in his car, leaving her sweet cookie smell all over his soft leather.
What was happening to him? He hadneverbeen so distracted before.
“Rhys?”
Lila jerked him out of his thoughts.
“Sorry, what? I was lost in thought.”
“You’ve missed the turning. We are going to the Grape & Olive, aren’t we?”
“Shit,” he said under his breath.
“It’s okay, no rush.”
Rhys turned the car at the next roundabout and pulled into the pub car park, rushing to the passenger side to open the door for her. Because that’s what you were supposed to do, right?
“Who knew you were such a gentleman?” She grinned, heading over to the entrance of the pub, only limping slightly. Rhys jammed his hands into his pockets. She’d already made it quite clear that she neither needed nor wanted his help.
They were guided to a table and handed an over-sized card menu.
“Would you like any drinks?” the waitress asked.
God yes.
“I’ll have a pint please. Lila?”
“Um, Aperol Spritz please,” she said with a smile.
“I’ll give you some time,” the waitress said, and left to sort their drinks.
Aperol Spritz? What even was that? Her pastel purple nails skimmed lightly over the menu and he couldn’t stop looking at the big sparkly yellow ring on her right hand.
“What are you going to have?” Lila asked.
“Um.” What he always had. “Probably hunter’s chicken.”
“Rhys.” Lila sighed and folded her hands on the table in front of her. “What’s wrong?”
“What do you mean?”
