Page 69 of Love, Academically
“Google translate. I was worried that it wasn’t right? It’s really hard to find a sentence that didn’t involve spitting or hawking spit or…” Lila was saying. “Why is Welsh so spitty?”
“I think we can all agree it is the effort that counts,” he said,with a sparkle in his eye. This was the father he wanted. The one that was proud of his son, that wanted the best for him. Not the bitter, angry old man who wanted an exact replica of himself; a power hungry, money-grabbing robot.
Rhys couldn’t be that anymore, and he didn’t want to be.
“Right, Rhys? It’s the effort that counts,” his father said pointedly, his smile turning downwards as he looked at his son across the flower arrangements.
“Yes,” Rhys said coldly. “The effort, indeed.”
“Speaking of effort.” His father placed the glass of whiskey down on the table. Rhys had learned at a young age that his father didn’t actually like whiskey, but he felt it made him look distinguished. “How isyoureffort going,bach?”Boy.
Now, whilst ‘my girl’ or ‘my boy’ was a term of endearment, ‘boy’ by itself was most definitely not. Especially the way his father spat it at him, attempting to make him small and meek.
“Myeffort,as you so correctly put it, is going extremely well,” Rhys said.
“Hmm,” his father waited for Rhys to fill the silence, but he knew this trick. He just waited, keeping his face blank, serene, unbothered. Lila’s hand pressed on his leg, stopping it from bouncing uncontrollably. “When can I expect an update? You don’t have long left.”
A not so veiled threat that if his Fellowship application was rejected, he was due back at Dallimore Headquarters to fall into the bleak corporate void and lose every part of himself that he had worked so desperately hard to find.
“Soon,” Rhys said.
“I’m ever so proud of him,” Lila interrupted, throwing him a warm smile. “It’s such an achievement to even apply for Fellowship at the Royal Historical Society. Especially considering Rhys is so young.”
“Young?” his father challenged with a sneer. “He’s not young. He’s over thirty. I’d made my first million by twenty-five.”
Rhys’s shoulders tensed. No matter what he did, he hadn’t made his first million by twenty-five and therefore he was a failure. He would never make a million, not unless he sold his shares in Dallimores. Frankly, he was happynotmaking a million. That was absolutely fine by him. As long as he could spend his days tucked in the library, working out the motives of people who were long dead, wondering about the logistics of moving an entire household so many thousands of miles, then he was happy.
“Gosh, that’s impressive. But I meant in academic terms,” Lila said. “Thirty is young in our world and many people don’t even have the capacity to apply for a Fellowship, let alone actually be accepted. Did you know there are only twelve applications accepted each year? You have to apply to apply. It’s ridiculously competitive.” She looked up at him. “I’ve never seen anyone work harder than Rhys. Even if he doesn’t get the Fellowship this year, I’ll still be incredibly proud of him.”
Emotion clogged his throat. Lila didn’t have it in her to lie, so those words of pride, of support, were real and true. He reached blindly for her hand under the table and held on to her tightly.
Lila
The death grip he had on her was beginning to make her fingers numb.
“Rhys, you’re crushing my hand,” Lila whispered as the plates were cleared. Rhys had only let go of her to eat and then had greedily reached for her again, interlocking their fingers on full display for his entire family. He loosened his hand, but didn’t let go.
“So Lila, you’re a lecturer too?” James asked, leisurely leaning back in his chair.
“James,” Elin said, patting his arm. “She’s the Departmental Coordinator.”
“I manage all the lecturers. They wouldn’t know how to tie their shoes without me,” she told James with a smile.
“You need a woman to tie your shoes?” Llewellyn put in.
How rude was he? Firstly, interrupting a conversation between her and James, and then insinuating… well, she didn’t quite know what he was insinuating, but it didn’t feel good.
“I need Lila to do a lot more than that, Dad,” Rhys quipped, raising his glass of water to his lips.
Oh. My. God.
Elin nearly choked on her drink.
“Rhys,” she hissed, but her fake boyfriend just smirked and raised his eyebrow.
What in the blessed Countdown Conundrum was that? Because whatever it was, it made her insides melt and her mouth fall open. A little eyebrow quirk made her clench her thighs together in need? ForRhys Aubrey? Apparently so.
“Oh yeah? Do you have quite a large job description?” James asked from beside her, completely oblivious and innocent. What a pure, naive little penguin.
