“Are those Bellinis? I thought you said this party sucks,” Fletcher whispers as we pass the students.
“Yeah, it…”
Words die on my tongue as we enter the room.
Arching above a table of desserts is a massive balloon garland of muted grey, cream, and metallic gold, interspersed with tropical fronds painted in the same hues. There’s a bar along the wall to the right where one bartender mixes cocktails as the other pops the cork from a champagne bottle. Servers drift through the room with trays of hors d’oeuvres that would satisfy even my mother’s discriminating party tastes. There’s a DJ. Tall tables with candles. Fairy lights. Floral arrangements. Students and faculty chatting and laughing. Actually laughing, not fake laughing.
What the fuck?
“This has to be breaking some kind of faculty code of conduct,” I say as we steer toward the bar.
“Shut your mouth, rules boy. I’m buying.” Fletch sidles up to the bar and orders a Bellini and a bourbon. When the drinks are finished and Fletch slides the bills across the polished stainless steel, the bartender shakes his head. Free bar.
“What is this alternate universe?” I ask as Fletch’s smile beams and she stuffs ten dollars into the bartender’s tip jar.
“I dunno, Kapalicious, but I like it.” Fuck sakes. It’s never a good sign when she breaks out the outlandish nicknames. I’m about to tell her as much when her bony elbow jams into my ribs, expertly missing the edge of my jacket for full impact. “Hey, there’s your girl. See? Told you she’d be here.”
Not my girl. I’m about to say it. I really am. But then I follow Fletcher’s line of sight through the gap in the crowd.
My argument evaporates the second I see her.
Bria Brooks. Equal parts beautiful and fierce, like a fallen angel who relishes the kind of freedom that only comes with the absence of wings.
She’s wearing a loose-fitting, sheer black top that’s just transparent enough for her dark bra to show through, but her black blazer covers most of her torso. I can make out the lines of lithe muscle in her legs beneath her faux leather leggings. She stands perfectly balanced on thin stiletto heels, one ankle crossed in front of the other, a clutch in one hand and a drink in the other. Her dark hair is piled in a loose bun, her smoky eyes firmly latched onto Tida who’s in the throes of an animated story.
Bria is nothing short of gorgeous.
David the bearded hipster lumberjack thinks so too, that fucker. He casts continuous glances at Bria, and I watch as he offers to fetch her another drink when hers is empty. She gives him a grateful smile, but even from a distance I can tell it doesn’t reach her eyes. I tamp down the sudden urge to smash my fist into his face and pull my attention away before she catches me watching.
“I take it back. You can’t go for her. The two of you together would be too much hotness. You’d either burn my retinas or cancel each other out, and I’m not sure which is worse,” Fletch says.
“I think Bro Lumberjack has it covered,” I reply in a low voice as David weaves through the crowd toward the bar behind us.
“Nah, she’s not interested.”
“Why do you think that?”
Fletcher turns toward me with a shit eating grin. “Because of the way she’s looking at you.”
I glance at Bria and our gazes collide. She assesses me with the calculating eye of a falcon, as though she’s determining how quickly she could rip my throat out. I’m sure my own expression is nearly as dark and heated, though for an entirely different reason. It physically pains me to break the connection and tear my gaze away.
“It’s only because she clearly wants to slice my skin off and wear it like a mask.”
“Christ, you’re so dramatic,” Fletcher says. I roll my eyes, but rather than argue, I focus on the sound of David’s voice behind me as he orders a lager and a grove and tonic. I have no clue what a grove and tonic is, but I commit it to memory nonetheless.
David passes us with his drinks just as Dr. Takahashi steps to the center of the room and taps his champagne glass with his fork. The DJ turns down the music and the crowd hushes into silence.
“Thank you all so much for coming to the annual Berkshire University Psychology Department meet and greet,” he says in his kind yet authoritative tone, his accent warming the vowels of each word. “This is an opportunity for us to welcome our new graduate students and to celebrate the achievements of those who are continuing and finishing their studies. For those who have attended before, I’m sure you’re aware that this is not our usual venue or style of event. However, it is a momentous occasion, as I both have the pleasure and the unfortunate occasion to announce the upcoming retirement of our longest serving faculty member, Dr. Edward Wells.”
Holy shit.
There are murmurs and claps and a couple of gasps, maybe even one from my own lips. I was beginning to think the old man would die on campus. I even threw a bet into Dr. Strom’s pool, which I’ve just officially lost. Dr. Takahashi continues with an abridged history of Dr. Wells’s long-standing tenure in the department as I scan the crowd for Dr. Strom, but instead my eyes catch Bria’s. She leans her arm on the edge of one of the high tables, stirring her drink as she watches me. I catch the brief glint of something in her expression, a fleeting tug at the corner of her lips before she raises her straw to her lips.
She already knew.
How the fuck could she know? I didn’t know, and I’m faculty. Maybe because I’m going on sabbatical? Did Takahashi leave me out of an internal communication? I break my gaze from Bria’s and search out the other faculty members, but they all look as equally surprised as me.
I’m about to shift my gaze to Bria when Dr. Takahashi finishes his spiel about Dr. Wells and turns toward me. “Also leaving us at the end of December, albeit temporarily, is Dr. Eli Kaplan, who will be starting an eighteen-month sabbatical. Dr. Kaplan will be pursuing some external opportunities during that time, and potentially a bit of travel. Do I have it right that you have an off-road motorcycle adventure planned in South America?”
Heat infuses my cheeks as I feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on my skin, Bria’s heaviest of all. “Yeah, that’s right.”
“Just come back in one piece, yes?”
I smile. “I hear Dr. Strom has a pool going for which limbs I’ll break, so I’ll do my best to make sure he loses all his money.”
A peel of laughter flows through the room. “Very good, very good. Now I’d like to introduce Dr. Kathryn Fletcher, who joins our faculty from UCLA, where she has specialized in the areas of memory, specifically the impact of digital media on memory recall. Dr. Fletcher will take over Dr. Kaplan’s class schedule next semester in addition to expanding our graduate course offerings from next year.”
Fletch gives a wave to the crowd, which from anyone else would look awkward, but Flawless Fletch makes it look effortlessly graceful.
“Now that the announcements are over, I’m sure you’re ready to get back to the party. Please ensure that you have safe transportation home. If you have any concerns whatsoever, please speak with me or another member of the faculty. Have a wonderful evening,” Dr. Takahashi concludes with a bow of his head as a round of applause encircles the room. He heads in our direction as other faculty members surround Dr. Wells.
“Quite the party,” I say as he stops next to us. “You’ll have to convince Dr. Fletcher here that it’s out of the norm.”
Dr. Takahashi smiles and we turn to get in line for the bar before it becomes too crowded. “Yes, don’t get used to it. This all was a gift from Edward’s friend Samuel.”
“That’s lovely. I guess we’ll have to find some other friend of Samuel’s to retire next year in that case,” Fletcher says, and the two strike up a conversation about the social calendar for the next few months as I scan the crowd for Bria. I catch a brief glimpse of her with Tida and David before a master’s student approaches me and strikes up a conversation about motorcycles as Fletch pushes a fresh drink into my hand. And that’s the way the next hour and a half goes. Random conversations. Appetizers. Stolen glances at Bria Brooks. A growing buzz as Fletch brings fresh drinks, likely trying to force my already tenuous grip on my rules to loosen.
