"Any more ki—, writing?" Clarity stammered.
I chuckled. "Yes, writing. You've been so focused in class, so rigid. Maybe I can help loosen you up, as a writer. Help you believe in your writing a little more."
We broke apart but neither went far. I leaned on the counter by the sink and Clarity drifted over to stand near me. "I don't know if I'll have the time anymore. Remember that bombshell you dropped about my internship?"
"How was I supposed to know? Man, I really walked right in and stuck my foot in my mouth, didn't I?"
Clarity laughed. "Is that why you had such a funny look on your face when you found out I was accepted?"
"What? No." I turned back to finish the dishes but there was only one small saucer left. "Congratulations on that, by the way."
"You don't think I should do it," Clarity leaned over the sink to look me in the eye. The neckline of her shirt hung open and I carefully kept my gaze on the soap suds. "Why not? What's wrong with working for Wire Communications? You did it."
"I just think you're too young to get dragged into such a dirty, corporate world. It's more about politics and money than it is about journalistic integrity at Wire Communications," I said.
"Too young?" Clarity's eyes flashed and she leaned closer. "You didn't think I was too young for other things."
I smiled at her fierce retort. "We're done with the dishes. Time to say goodnight?"
Her rose petal lips quirked in an effort to hide her smile. "How about I walk you out?"
I loved when her uncertainty disappeared and I promised myself to rile her up in the future. It was hard to shake off the thought and follow her into the dining room.
There Clarity snuffed out the candles but glowed herself in the dim light. I stepped closer to her and reached to extinguish a far candle just so our bodies could brush.
"So is this why you were so nice about my short story?" Clarity asked.
An avalanche of snow couldn't have been more effective in freezing my fantasies. "Oh, my god, please tell me you don't think that could be true. It's not." I took her by the shoulders and spun her to face me. "I see more in your writing than puff pieces and articles. I don't want you to be restricted. You should be free to write whatever you desire."
"I wish I was free in my desires," Clarity muttered and the words were like hot magma melting the ground between us.
She swayed closer, and I couldn't find the strength to step back.
"Ford," Clarity's father called from the hallway. We jumped apart, startled, and he called again. "Go ahead and leave the rest of the dishes. Come join me in my office."
"Don't worry," Clarity said, "you're not in trouble."
I scoffed at her. "As if you've ever been in trouble with the dean before."
I found Patrick leaning on his desk. As I walked in the door of his office, he pulled out two cigars and offered me one. "Care to join me? I find it helps with digestion."
"Is that the Landsman College logo? I had no idea the gift shop sold those," I said.
Patrick grinned. "No, these were specially made. A gift from one of our largest donors, Michael Tailor. I think you met him at the donors’ dinner." He held out the cigar again.
I shook my head. "No, thanks. I was never very good at it."
"Suit yourself. Do you mind if I do?"
I nodded and took the seat he offered me. The dean's home office was simple but elegant, with a large, hand-carved desk and luxurious, leather chair. Patrick took the hard-backed chair next to me and lit his cigar.
"You know, I'm impressed with you. I think it's great how you can see past the narrow confines of your classroom," he said between puffs.
"I'm afraid other people think I'm not suited to academia for that very reason," I said.
Patrick shook his head. "I suppose it helps that you are closer in age to your students, but I think it's great how you get involved in their personal lives. Especially Clarity."
My eyes flared wide. "Especially Clarity?" I asked with my heart hammering. Had her father picked up on my feelings of attraction for his daughter? The thought horrified me and I could barely keep it from my expression.