I want to thank him for the massage, for relaxing me, and for what was definitely the best sex of my life, but I’m too relaxed to say a word.
I FEEL like my head is going to explode out my eyeballs and, when it does, I’m not even going to move; I’m just going to lie here with no head and no eyeballs. I’ve been in the library since I finished teaching at 2:00 p.m. I’m starving and there’s no way I can do even one more hour of work on this conference paper. It’s only Wednesday, and the week already feels endless, the relaxation of Rex’s homey cabin and warm hands nothing but a memory.
I need to get some dinner, go home, and put myself the hell to bed if I want to finish this tomorrow. I gather my stuff and trudge downstairs.
“Daniel?”
I spin around and find myself face to face with Rex—well, face to throat; damn, he’s tall.
“Hi,” I say, smiling at him. “What’re you doing here?”
“I’m just picking up some things, and I needed to look up some stuff.” Well, that was specific. I nod, though, too tired to press him. “What are you working on?” He guides me over to the bench next to the wall and brings me down next to him. I lean into him a little.
“I have to give a paper at this conference in Detroit on Saturday. It’s the biggest annual conference in my field and my panel got accepted over the summer, which is great, but I kind of forgot about it, what with moving and teaching and everything. Then this morning I looked at my calendar and realized it’s, you know, really soon.”
Even as I’m telling Rex this, my stomach is tightening. It’s the first panel that I’ve proposed that has been accepted at a really prestigious conference, and I was jazzed about working on a new project when I wrote the abstract. Of course, sitting down this morning to start writing it, realizing I only have a few days, is a different story.
“I’ve got to finish it tomorrow so I can practice it and time it. Then I’m driving down Friday afternoon and coming back Sunday. I can’t believe I left it this long. I just started it this afternoon. It’s going to be crap because I’m throwing it together.”
My stomach lets out an audible rumble even though I’ve moved past hunger to sheer anxiety. I’m blocking out hours in my head as I talk—three hours for teaching tomorrow, then I can work on the paper, then I need to do laundry so I have clean clothes for the conference; I should definitely check my car before I leave—and I miss something Rex says.
“Sorry,” I say, “what?”
Rex narrows his eyes at me.
“I said when was the last time you ate?”
“Um. Breakfast?” I say. Which is technically true, even though breakfast was half a bagel I found in my bag from yesterday.
“Daniel, it’s after seven.” When Rex gets worried, that damned wrinkle in the middle of his forehead comes out—the one I can’t help but associate with his face clenched in pleasure. I reach out absently and smooth it with my finger. His expression softens.
“Hi,” I say, and I kiss him. I don’t generally kiss in libraries, it’s true, but no one can see us, and I can’t resist touching him when he’s this close.
He smiles and squeezes my hand. “Hi. So, can I take you to get some food?”
“Oh, that’s okay,” I say. “I was just going to grab something on my way home. I’m gonna crash out early, I think, since I have to try and finish this tomorrow.”
“Okay,” he says neutrally. “Do you want to have dinner tomorrow?”
“Yeah, that sounds great—oh shit!” I grab my calendar from my bag and flip through it. “Shit, shit. I can’t. I’m having dinner with Jay tomorrow. I forgot.”
“Who’s Jay?” Rex lets go of my hand.
“He teaches in my department. He’s helping me with this committee I’m accidentally chairing—don’t ask. Anyway, we’re having dinner tomorrow so he can explain everything. Sorry.”
“Oh. So, I guess I’ll just see you when you get back?”
Rex’s eyes are slightly narrowed, and I can’t tell if I’m supposed to offer to cancel dinner with Jay so I can see Rex before I leave for the conference? Am I supposed to invite Rex to come?
“You could come to dinner with us?” I say, and it doesn’t sound at all sincere. “But it would be really boring for you because we’re just going to talk about work stuff. Do you want to come over to my house after dinner?” I ask, hoping maybe this is a good compromise. “You could keep me company while I pack?” That is the lamest thing I’ve ever said. Only Ginger wants to hang out with me while I stuff things into a bag. But Rex smiles.