When I eventually Uber home, it’s with the determination to sort my shit out and maybe lay off the bourbon for a few days.
So that’s how I vow to spend the rest of my week. Eating clean, head down, working hard. I resolve to avoid the fourth floor. No trips to any coffee shops. When I have lunch with Fletch on Wednesday, I promise to talk to Bria after the weekend about coming along to the interviews. Until then, however, I stay focused on my own shit, no matter how taxing that becomes.
But now, it’s Friday afternoon, and the momentum I felt at the beginning of the week has slowly died. I’m supposed to be grading assignments for my second year Introduction to Cognition class. But I’m not. I’m looking up restaurants in Ogden, Utah, compiling the most promising options on my OneNote. My thoughts seem to be drifting everywhere they shouldn’t go. I started the week strong, but as it’s progressed, everything has begun feeling like an effort to get to a destination that eludes me. When I’m supposed to be thinking of lecture topics, I’m wishing I were doing more mundane admin tasks. When I’m trying to grade papers, I’m thinking about interviewing former cult members and plans for taking down Caron Berger. When I should be thinking about research papers, I think about Bria, and invariably my dick thinks of her too, and that leads to me having to jerk off multiple times a day in a futile effort to get my brain back on track.
I’m about to give myself a stern talking-to when there’s a soft knock at my open office door. I look up as it drifts open a little wider.
Bria’s formidable energy takes up the empty space like a dark star.
“Dr. Kaplan,” she says, her voice clear and precise, yet alluring and full of mystery. “Am I disturbing you?”
“No, not at all,” I reply. I want to stand but my dick is already hard and straining against my zipper at the mere sight of her. She’s wearing a dress today, not her usual jeans and sweater combination. Her hair is long and loose around her shoulders, the waves tumbling over the strap of her bag as she spins and closes the door behind her. “Have a seat.”
I gesture to the chair across from me and she stays standing, eyeing my hand as though she’s calculating how quickly she could rip it off. I realize after a moment that she’s not looking at my hand but my wrist, and my focus drops to the faint purple bruise. When I meet her eyes, she’s staring back at me with the mirage of a smile in her deep brown gaze.
Bria lets the bag slip from her shoulder and sets it down on the floor next to her as she takes a seat. She says nothing as she folds her hands in her lap. It seems she’s comfortable sitting ramrod straight and completely silent. Me…not so much. The silence stretches on as she watches me, her faint smile unwavering as she absorbs all the energy in the room.
“Can I…do something for you?” I ask. Bria’s smile widens as though I’ve just confirmed some hidden joke. It suddenly dawns on me she was doing it on purpose, playing me to the simplest of human behavior, the need to fill the awkward silence. Why though, I have no idea. Maybe just to throw me off-balance. Maybe just because she could. Maybe to remind me she can think circles around me, which I don’t need much reminding about lately.
“Actually, Dr. Kaplan, it’s about what I can do for you.”
Holy Christ, my dick loves the sound of those words. I clear my throat and take a sip of my lukewarm coffee that I haven’t touched in the last hour.
“Go on,” I manage.
“I heard you’re going to interview next month. In Ogden.”
My brow furrows. Fletcher went ahead and told her. Bria smiles as I smooth my expression. “That’s right.”
“I wanted to offer my assistance. To go with you. It’s mutually beneficial. I can support with the interviews, and in return I can use the experience toward my dissertation.”
“You realize this comes with risks, correct? The interview subjects are from Legio Agni, which is run by some powerful, wealthy, well-connected individuals.” I swallow, a burst of heat flooding my chest as I think about the weight of my next words. “While the risks are low, I can’t guarantee your safety anymore than I can mine.”
“I understand,” Bria says, seemingly untroubled.
“And you will need to sign some forms. Liability waivers, NDAs…the FBI also requires a background check.”
Bria’s eyes darken but she gives a single nod. “I figured that would be the case. It’s fine.”
We stare at one another for a long moment. This is a terrible idea. I both loathe and love it. “All right,” I finally say, and I catch the brief flash of pleased surprise in Bria’s eyes. “Do you have the funds from your grant to pay for the trip or do you need it covered by mine?”
Bria laughs, and the room fills with magic. It’s unbidden and joyous. Musical. I’m utterly spellbound.
“I can cover myself, Dr. Kaplan,” she says on the heels of a giggle. A wicked grin flits across her full lips and it takes everything in me to tear my eyes from them. Stripping my attention away from the memory of her kiss is like ripping off a Band-Aid.
“The plan is to leave early on a Friday, come back the following Monday evening. The drive is about eight hours. Seven o’clock start work for you?” I ask, for some reason eyeing her with skepticism even though I’m sure she won’t protest.
“Of course,” she replies, the echo of her earlier levity softening the usual sharp edges of her voice. “Send me a list of anything you need me to bring. I like to be prepared.”
Now that is no surprise. I’ve already gleaned that she has every eventuality planned out. I’m sure any item I give her on my list will already be on hers, but I’ll do it anyway. “I will.”
Bria smiles and we sit in silence, and though the moment could be strained by the lack of conversation, I take the chance to just look at her. I memorize every detail, from the bow of her full lips to her wide brown eyes to the smattering of freckles that dusts her nose. There’s a tiny scar near her hairline, a fallen black lash on her cheekbone that I would give anything to dust away. But there’s the expanse of her, the inimitable force of her, the depth that lies beyond what I can see. That’s what draws me in. It’s the impossibly fierce mind at work behind those eyes.
This moment that feels so sacred stretches on like pulled taffy, longer and longer until it thins. And still we sit in silence, and I keep trying to work her out, wondering what she’s waiting for, until it occurs to me. I have a chance to push her. To see where she will go if I give her a shove.
“Is there anything else, Bria? Or are we done?”
There’s a flicker in her eye. It’s so brief I could have imagined it. Nothing else about her expression changes. Just that wink of a star, and then it’s gone.
“I don’t think so, Dr. Kaplan.” Bria rises from her chair and gives me one last smile before she turns toward the door.
You fucking idiot, Kaplan.
In an even more idiotic move than dismissing her callously, I race around the edge of the desk and come up behind her just as she reaches for the door handle, pressing the front of her body to the wood as I cage her with my hands.
“Are you sure there’s nothing else?” I whisper next to her ear as the sound of the conversation of passersby drifts beneath the door. It sets my heart battering against my ribs. “There wasn’t something else you wanted?”
Bria lets out a long breath as though trying to steady herself. “Well, I was going to fuck you but it appears you’re not interested.”
I swallow a groan and grind my pelvis against her ass, showing her exactly how interested I truly am. Bria’s breath hitches and I bite down on her earlobe, pressing into her again. I hear the click as she turns the lock on the handle.
“Get on the desk, Ms. Brooks.”
I move back just enough to let her pass. Her gaze collides with mine on her way toward the desk. I know that look. It’s anticipation. Desire. And a little bit of rage.
