Aaron
On Wednesday morning, I suffered through a staff meeting that nearly bored me to tears, or would have, if I had been listening. The head of my department was a study in tedium, and ill-suited to be teaching a class on business ethics considering he had gotten a student pregnant last year. The hypocrisy at the school was stunning, and yet, I was part of the problem as well. The memory of Amy’s sharp little chin between my fingers played on constant repeat in my mind, over and over.
Touching her wasn’t in the plan. Touching her wasn’t allowed. Her studies had less than a year left, and then, and only then, could I pursue her. I had made myself that promise, the first day she’d walked into my classroom and my heart. But my resolve was slipping and my obsession was showing.
She’d been so adorable yesterday, blushing sweetly, while defending her poor paper. She really had no idea that I knew everything about her. I'd asked her to see if she’d lie to me, and she hadn’t. I knew where she worked; I knew the shifts that she worked. I knew exactly how little time she had. My beautiful girl was working herself into the ground, and I wasn’t going to stand back and let it happen.
“Now, we come to Professor Cole's point regarding a TA.”
“Yes, I haven’t recruited for the position yet, but I have someone I’d like to do it, and will be employing her immediately.”
“Who is it?”
“Amy Mackintosh.”
“Ah, Amy. She has a pretty demanding basketball schedule. I think Coach Chris might have something to say about it.”
“She isn’t majoring in basketball or any sport related field. She should get experience relevant to her degree and that trumps everything else. It’s not my concern if the basketball team needs a business major part-time player to win,” I said dismissively. Silence fell around the table. Department Head, Alan, was nodding vigorously.
“Quite, well said. Let’s keep our priorities in order. So that’s decided,” he said, looking at me for approval. The man had yet to find his spine in twenty years of teaching. I nodded, confirming I was satisfied with him, and he smiled, and turned to the other things on the agenda.
“Now, the demonstration against the Greek hazing system-,”
I shut him out and stared down at the paper in front of me. I had the contract for Amy all ready to go. The position would pay twice what she made from her part-time jobs, and I’d ensure that she had plenty of time to sleep and get her schoolwork done. The actual pay for the position was very poor, but I was subsidising it heavily. I taught business and was rather an expert in the field. That there could be a poor-looking business professor seemed like an oxymoron to me. I knew how to invest money; I knew how to make money, and had already made enough to last me a lifetime. I wasn’t an ostentatious person. In fact, when I’d taken the position at the university, I’d been happy to live in a small house near campus. Of course, once Amy graduated, and wanted to move somewhere to pursue her work passions, I’d move too. She’d have the house of her dreams wherever it may be. For now, I was content playing the role of the well-meaning, humble professor who worked for the love of the subject and nothing else. To be fair, it had started that way. Once you have amassed more money than you could spend, what else is there to do with your time? Passing it on was a concept taught to me by my father, and his father before him.
Still, I’d never planned on making this small university town and campus my world for as long as I had. In fact, I had been on the cusp of handing in my notice to take up a position in England, at Oxford university, when I’d met Amy. One look, and I was smitten. One interaction, and I was obsessed.
“Aaron, wait a minute,”a voice called to me. Behind me, Monica, the accountancy professor, hurried after me. “Shall we get a coffee?” she suggested. I fought an internal sigh. This woman was relentless.
“I’m pressed for time,” I told her, as we walked out the building into the warm, spring night. Campus was busy. There was music issuing from the student union, and people biking passed, or walking to the library with heavy backpacks. I joined the rush, moving toward the gates at one end of the huge sprawling green.
“You always say that!” she laughed, blind as ever. It really didn’t take a genius to figure why I was always busy when she asked me out, but she was a person completely convinced of her own appeal and would never see my polite excuses as rejection.
“And I always mean it,” I snapped at her, allowing my longer stride to carry me before her. She hurried after me, her heels clacking loudly on the sidewalk.
“You can’t be busy every single time I ask. It’s statistically impossible,” she said, still on my damn tail.
“So, what does that tell you?” I asked, halted, and turning to face her. She slammed into me and reached for my chest to steady herself. She smiled up at me with what she no doubt thought was an endearing expression. “I’m no statistician, so I’ll leave it to you to interpret the data,” I said coolly. Over her shoulder, I saw a figure come to a dead stop on the sidewalk.
Fucking great.
Amy clutched her backpack, her eyes fixed on me and Monica. Her expression was surprised, and something more. My annoyance faded immediately to intrigue. Amy, my sweet girl, looked almost hurt at the sight of me and Monica, my colleagues’ hands still resting on my chest. I enjoyed it, though I shouldn’t have. Getting a grip, I stepped back and let Monica’s hands fall to her sides. I folded my own arms across my chest, putting a barrier between us, and fixed her with a withering look.
“I don’t get it,” Monica was saying, still trying to puzzle out what I had said. The idiot still couldn’t understand a rejection, even when it was put plainly.
“I’m not interested. Do you get it now?” I asked. Her mouth rounded in surprise, and her smooth cheeks reddened. That blush did nothing for me. It was nothing like Amy’s sweet, innocently pink cheeks when she argued with me, or gave me sass and got away with it. “Considering that, I think it’s inappropriate to press personal invitations on me constantly.” Monica stiffened, the insinuation that she was harassing me finally sinking through her thick skull.
“Right, I’ve got you,” she said, and then forced an awkward laugh. “It was only a drink, and nothing more nefarious, I promise you,” she said. I shrugged.
“Still, unwanted attention, no matter how small, is still unwanted. I’m sure, as a beautiful woman, you’ve experienced it often enough,” I said. Her expression hardened, and she shrugged. Over her shoulder, I could see Amy tear her stare from us, and turn away toward a bike rack. She rode an aging scrap of metal to campus, that she called a bike. Soon, she would have enough money to buy herself a new one, and a goddamn helmet. Watching her sail along the small paths of the green without one, while jocks threw balls around and veered in her path, always turned my stomach.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me?” I said to Monica and strode away before she could speak again. Hopefully, that would put an end to that. No matter how satisfying the smallest sign of jealousy might be from Amy, any tiny sign that she might feel even a fraction of the pull I felt between us, I didn’t want her upset. I wanted no misunderstandings, or confusion in her head or heart. I was hers, and only hers. Soon, she’d know it.