He didn’t look up when she walked in, and she smiled. She loved him surly just as much as she loved him happy.
“Actually, Professor McCoy,” Maggie said, and Mac froze in front of his computer. “I was wondering if you had a minute to talk.”
Mac’s head didn’t whip in her direction, instead it rose by millimeters. Maggie’s stomach pitched, but she recognized it as a combination of nerves and hope. The light from his screen bathed his face in a glow of blue light. He’d trimmed back his beard until it was short against his cheeks and chin. Maggie couldn’t help the heat that traced her spine as she thought about how those coarse curls tickled against her inner thighs.
“Hi,” she said when his eyes finally met hers. He was glowering. Not his normal frown, but a truly scary glare that gave her a moment of self-doubt.
“You shouldn’t be here.” Mac said and stood from his desk. He was wearing a black sweater today with his dark jeans, and Maggie couldn’t stop the way her blood heated and her pulse tripped any more than she could stop needing oxygen.
“I think you’re wrong.” Maggie moved closer to plop herself into the seat across from Mac’s desk. “Actually, I think you’re wrong about quite a few things, but I also need your help, so here I am.”
Mac’s eyes shot to her bare thighs as she crossed her legs. “If you need help, then ask Cal, or Dean,” Mac said, and Maggie had another dip in confidence.
If he was sending her to other men, then he was serious about pushing her away. Except Cal wasn’t available, and even if Mac hadn’t been aware of Dean’s sexuality, he knew Maggie wasn’t interested in him. She’d told him so. Mac was trying to throw her at men who weren’t romantic options. Whether or not it was on purpose, it still meant something important, and she was going to make sure she grabbed on with both hands.
“I don’t need Cal or Dean, or any other guy. It has to be you.” Maggie willed her confidence back on track.
Maggie knew she looked good. She'd brushed mascara over her lashes and glossed over her lips. Her skirt was just on this side of too short and showed off her smooth thighs. Mac’s sweater did little for her figure, but she hoped the combination of wearing his clothes and the school-girl references would distract him, anyway.
“What do you need?” He finally grated out, sinking back into his desk chair with a long, drawn-out sigh.
“I’m working on a paper, and I need help organizing my thoughts as I get them all out.” Maggie said.
“You aren’t a student here, Maggie,”
“Just hear me out.”
Mac shook his head, but said, “Okay, tell me.”
“I’m exploring the differences between platonic love and romantic love. My thesis is that the two not only can coexist, but should coexist.” She leaned forward and toyed with the small nameplate he had on his desk. It matched the one on the door. Maggie traced the lines of the gold T.
“What are you doing?” Mac leaned forward too, his hands less than a foot from hers.
“What kind of evidence would I need to best support my argument?” Maggie asked, “What would be the most compelling?”
“Maggie.” Mac swallowed, his regular frown lines furrowing between his eyebrows.
“Professor McCoy,” Maggie tried to hide her smile.
He hadn’t thrown her out yet, but he also didn’t seem to understand what she was saying. “I teach history,” Mac said, “Not writing.”
“Your students write papers.”
“On weapons and battles. Not love.”
Maggie looked at his darling face, lips, and forehead creased in his perpetual frown. This was her last chance to get through to him, mostly because Maggie wasn’t sure if she could handle another rejection. She was putting all of her faith in Cal, Audrey, and even Dean. She was also putting faith in herself. Mac mattered to her, mattered enough to try one more time to help him understand. Maggie wasn’t the type to form attractions or romantic relationships with anyone she wasn’t already comfortable with. The only chance she and Mac had was because they’d become friends.
Not the friend-zone.
Not friends-with-benefits.
Friendshipand.
Friendship and intimacy.
Friendship and respect.
Friendship and love.