Don’t Be in Love

8

Don’t Hide with the Enemy — Adelaide

Forty-eight hours ago, waves of anxiety had been rolling off my chest as I recovered from Sabrina almost seeing us from her window. Forty-eight hours and I still couldn’t get rid of the smell of Dorian either. It was nauseating. Glued to the sweater I had been wearing, which now sat in my hamper begging to be cleansed. But the speed at which my heart was racing behind that tree was nowhere close to the pace it was beating at now.

“The paper will be worth fifty percent of your grade,” Professor Hudson explained—and not to be dramatic but—ruining my life in the process. My pen almost snapped in my hand. His mouth was moving but that didn’t matter, I already knew what the assignment was. One hundred pages on globalization and its effect on British industries.

One hundred pages.

Going out on Saturday nights just poofed out of thin air. Going out any night, actually. At this point, I was going to have to pencil in my meals.

Fifty percent. Fifty percent of my grade. A grade that needed to be an A in order for me to keep my scholarship and afford the tuition here.

Going back to Boston wasn’t an option. I had already fallen in love with London.

The light of the London Eye, the sight of the double-decker buses, the cobblestone corners, the history, the people . The people were full of life. Dotty, Iris, Sabrina, and even Drew, the man at the Borough Market who entertained my need to pick out each individual ravioli from his display. The warmth of the art museums, the breeze of the Thames, the chatter of the trees in St. James Park, the hum of the audience in a theatre, the comfort of tea times.

The more I breathed them all in, the less I could handle losing them.

I couldn’t go back home anymore. I didn’t even have anything to go back to.

Professor Hudson continued talking as I opened my planner.

There wasn’t a free day in any of the blocks for the month of September … or October. Each square was filled with Work or a chunk of an assignment to do to stay on track.

Now I’d have to find somewhere to fill in this assignment. My head was already throbbing at the number of words I’d have to write today.

I looked around the room where students were either on their phones or shopping on their laptops. Not one person looked worried. Yet here I was getting hot, while my hands grew clammy, struggling to grip the pen.

This was worth it. It’d all be worth it . A perfect GPA meant free tuition and getting to stay in London. That much closer to finishing my degree, getting the perfect marketing job, being financially independent, and never having to go home again.

“I’m here!” I shouted to Dotty as I entered the bookstore, using my hip to open the door.

The pile in my arms seemed to grow each time I arrived. “Can you take this?” I held my arm in the air, waving the to-go cups like a flag.

Mia dropped the box in her arms, letting it slam against the floor to run over. I lifted my knee up to catch them as she took the drinks from my hand.

“Good thing we aren’t working in a China shop!” Dotty commented as she peeked into the open box Mia dropped.

Mia smiled innocently at her. “They’re just the books on marketing, it’s fine.”

I shot her a look. “I’m going to start mistreating the books on journalism.”

“I’d thank you, actually. My dad is already on my ass about coursework because I’ve yet to start anything.” She shook her head before taking a sip of her coffee.

I bit down on my cheek to keep my jaw from dropping. She hadn’t started anything?

I couldn’t imagine my mother ever asking if I had done my work. She never even asked me about school. I was an entity that existed in our house. Another working individual. I tried to see the silver lining about being forced to learn the reality of life early (that it was only as good as you were willing to work) but it still hadn’t made me numb enough in moments like this.

Watching Mia talk with her family on the phone every Monday night, and waving goodbye to Sabrina every time she went out with her dads was the other end of my double-edged sword. If they failed out of Townsen, there was someone to support them. If I failed … well, I didn’t think my aunt was looking to house me for another five years.

There weren’t many opportunities to make friends on campus back home. Everyone was looking to party or drink or step on you to get the best grade. I chatted with girls in class, but I didn’t have the energy to follow up on after-class plans.

Mia and Brina had become the friends I saw in sitcoms and rom-coms. The friends that remembered your birthday, offered you their favorite dresses for a date, and tucked you under their umbrellas when it began to rain. But watching them lean on their families for support and reminders of deadlines was … difficult.

“How’s the tea?” I asked Dotty.

She smacked her lips together. “Arnold made it, didn’t he?” Her eyes brightened.

I nodded satisfyingly.

Was it incredibly awkward to request a barista? Yes. But did I know it would make Dotty smile and coerce her into going easy on me for having tutoring sessions during shifts? Of course.

“You’re good.” She pointed her little bony finger at me. “But you didn’t need to get me tea with Arnold’s special goat milk to convince me about letting the handsome fella in—that’s Dorian Blackwood for heaven’s sake!”

“He’s already here?” I asked, my eyes widening. I assumed after how Monday night ended, he’d show up late. I was actually counting on him to not show up at all so I could focus on this new paper. Apparently, I was the only one who found us pressed against a tree together awkward.

“He’s a charming thing too. But I still have a lot of questions as to why you’re tutoring him and not dating him.” Dotty disapproved, according to the woman who never married and didn’t believe in monogamy. Hypocrite.

“Even if I was interested in dating someone as arrogant as him, I couldn’t. Sabrina’s in love with him.” I waved my hand.

Her face fell. A melancholic look swept the corners of her lips.

Sabrina didn’t work here, but she was a frequent-customer-turned-friend before getting me and Mia jobs here. Dotty and Iris treated her like a granddaughter.

“Exactly,” I replied to the look on her face.

“Why don’t you set her up then?” She leaned forward from behind the desk. Mia went over to sit beside her.

For a millisecond, I had considered connecting Dorian with Sabrina. But that was before he opened his mouth and I realized he was full of himself. She may have claimed to be in love with him, but she had no idea who he actually was. Maybe this semester would change that now that she could bump into his arrogant ass at any moment on campus.

I looked up at the ceiling and rolled my tongue over my teeth. “Well, the thing is we kind of … spent the night together.” Dotty gasped. “I had no idea who he was!” I defended myself.

“What are you doing tutoring him then?” she asked, horrified.

“It’s how I’m getting him to keep this whole thing a secret.”

She nodded, collecting each piece of information to surely share with her book club. “You’re going to get yourself into trouble with this,” she considered, chewing on her lip.

“If you have any better ideas, I’d love to hear them.” Dotty and Mia looked at each other without responses.

“That’s what I thought. Now I’m going to take care of the problem in the backroom until you two can come up with something better.”

“Talk loudly so we can hear,” Mia asked before I crossed through the threshold of the backroom and shut the door.

There was a stack of boxes propping up his feet where he was … sleeping. You had to be kidding.

His long figure was extended on the couch, arms crossed behind his head. He had black trousers on, and a white T-shirt that rose above his lower stomach. I could see the tattoo that rested on his hip. My gaze glued to it, trapping me. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. The ink followed the curve of the muscle in his torso, the way a quill guided above a line on paper. The last time I saw it, my thumb was pressed into it.

“Is it not rude to stare in America?”

I jolted at his voice. The tattoo was quickly covered up by his shirt as he sat up, rubbing his—now open—eyes.

“Because it’s awfully creepy here, just so you know,” he responded, his accent making him sound considerate despite the smart-ass tone.

“I’ll keep that in mind next time I have someone taking a nap in my place of work. You could’ve at least started on what I assigned for today,” I pointed out, throwing my jacket onto the couch.

“How was I supposed to know what was assigned?” His eyebrow quirked.

“Because I printed you out the rubric for the project and added a calendar to the back, breaking down what had to be completed by the end of each session.”

“That’s quite smart.”

A pause passed over the conversation.

“So you lost the paper?” I deadpanned.

“Forgive me?”

“Do you take anything seriously?”

“Do you want to talk about why you were staring at me?”

“We’re supposed to be working,” I grumbled.

“Fine, let’s get to work then.” He stood up abruptly, forcing me to take a step backward to give myself space. Suddenly, I could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. “You look tall today,” he thought aloud. It was odd. Spellbinding, almost.

I turned away, placing my things on the table. “New shoes,” I commented haphazardly. Lots of talking. No studying.

I rifled through my papers, pulling out folded pieces from my textbook that I stuffed in each time class was up. The calendar I made was here somewhere. Maybe it’d be easier to find it if Dorian wasn’t staring at me.

Without picking my head up, I glanced at his shoes. 2021 Beverly Autumn Collection. “Did James get you those?” I asked.

“Who?”

“Your friend, James.”

“You know James? My James? Platinum hair, quiet personality?” Confusion wiped across his face.

I responded casually, “Yes, I met him a few weeks ago. I assumed he would’ve said something.”

“No.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Just surprised he wouldn’t tell me. How do you know him?”

“We have class together. You know you could sit down and pick up where we left off while I look for this paper.” I pointed to the chair across from me.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked curiously, still standing. “You could’ve mentioned it.”

“Because this isn’t social hour and—I give up, I’m printing a new paper,” I exhaled with irritation. I slid the tower of textbooks to the side and pulled out my laptop to find the file.

“Do you fancy him?”

I slowly lifted my head up. “Are you kidding? Oh my gosh, you’re not.” I rubbed my temples and stood up straight. “I’ve spoken to James maybe three times. I don’t even like that he knows about us.” I waved my finger between us.

“James is practically a saint. I’m not sure he’s ever lied in his life. A church confessional’s nightmare, truly.”

I didn’t need Dorian to convince me otherwise. The last time James and I spoke, we had a fifteen-minute conversation about how scarves were his favorite piece of clothing. Saint was encrusted in the shape of his smile.

“If you’re into him, I could always set you two up.”

I pressed print on my laptop. “I’m not looking to date. I have better things to do than entertain boys.”

“Oh come on, James is a nice boy.” He took a step forward, now trying to plead his case.

Four steps to the printer and four steps back. I held the paper up to his face. “I. Do. Not. Date. Now sit down, time to get to work.”

He grabbed the paper out of my hand and smacked it down on the table, a crease already forming on the page. “So you’re not bringing a date to the Dinner then?”

“The Dinner?” I asked.

“The Annual Townsen Class Dinner that’s in two weeks.” he exclaimed, waiting for my reaction. But no, nothing. Was I supposed to be subscribed to some university newsletter?

He sighed. “The Annual Dinner takes place every autumn to celebrate the new year and new students, like you.”

“And we just…eat dinner?”

“Eat, dance, network. Boring shit like that.”

“If you find it boring, why go?”

“For James, he enjoys it.” He shrugged.

“No one else?” I raised my eyebrows, thinking back on the collection of girls who stared at him twice a week in class.

“What makes you think there’s someone else?”

“There’s always someone else with guys like you.”

“You mean incredibly charming and handsome guys that—”

“Sabrina, I didn’t know you were coming!” Mia’s voice pierced the room from the other side of the door.

Holy shit .

My head snapped to the wall in horror. Panic crawled up my throat and threatened to suffocate me as my heart nosedived. I searched around the room for a space and locked in on the couch.

“You need to hide right now ,” I whispered like a psychopath, grabbing onto whichever part of Dorian was closest to me and pulled.

“What? Why wou—”

“Is Addy in the back?” I could hear Sabrina getting closer now.

Shit, shit, shit, shit .

“I need you to lie down behind the couch.” I pointed to the floor.

He looked at me like I was a maniac. “No way am I—”

“Do you have to have a response to everything? Just get behind the—”

The knob of the door creaked, and I did what was best.

Shoved Dorian onto the floor.

But suddenly, his hand was on my wrist, and he was pulling me down with him.