Not hungry but will definitely go to see you.
I toss out the rest of my salad, grab my jacket, and go out to meet Jackson. There might even be a little skip in my step.
It’s almost three by the time I get back to the office. I’m pretty sure neither of us wanted to separate so we stayed in the horseshoe booth of the restaurant, sitting close so that we were always touching. We talked as he played with my fingers, brushed my hair behind my shoulder, or gave me quick kisses on my cheek. I kept my hand on his strong thigh, squeezing it sometimes or running my hand up high, watching him take in a quick breath. We didn’t pull ourselves away to leave until the waiter asked, for the third time, if there was anything else he could get us.
When I walk back into the office I am floating.
“Where have you been?” Jules asks once I’m back at my desk.
“Oh, hey,” I say, startled. I’d been staring blankly at my email. “I took a late lunch.”
Jules leans on the doorway of my cubicle and crosses her arms. “Some people are saying you’ve been seeing Jackson Croft. Is that true?”
My defenses shoot up. Who is talking about me and why is it their business?
“Yes,” I say. “We’re…kind of seeing each other.” The truth is, I haven’t talked to anyone about him. I’ve been keeping the relationship close and private because I don’t know what it’s going to become and frankly, I don’t want to jinx it.
“Is it serious?” Jules asks. “Emily, I’m not just asking as your boss. I’m also asking as your friend.”
The way she’s looking at me makes me uncomfortable. This feels very much like a Serious Talk, and I’m not prepared to talk to anyone about Jackson.
I choose my words carefully. “I’m not sure. We’re spending time together.”
She nods. “Then as your boss, I need to tell you that you’re in a gray area by dating someone who donates to our organization. It’s not exactly against protocol but it could be seen as…unsavory. As your friend,” she continues, “I want to tell you to be careful, Emily. Jackson Croft is a whole different league of man. It’s not just his money or the family he comes from, although those things do matter, even if you don’t think they do. You might be having fun now, but remember to protect your heart. When things turn south, don’t expect him to be the sweet, dashing guy he’s probably being now. You’re innocent when it comes to guys, Emily. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I won’t,” I say. “It’s not like that. It’s…we’re just hanging out.”
She nods, but I can see that she knows better. “Okay. Just be careful. That’s all I’m saying.”
Jules leaves me rattled. I didn’t think about what people did or didn’t know about Jackson and me. I didn’t think I cared. I only cared about seeing him, being together with him. Now I think back to what Natalie told after class, that Brent told her that “my shit” might come out. Did he mean Jackson? Did Brent get word to CEF that I was seeing him? It’s not like I’ve been secretive about Jackson, and I never thought I was doing anything wrong—I still don’t. Now I feel on alert, but for what I’m not quite sure.
In class the next day, Brent is on a rampage. He holds up a paper we had to do and that he’s about to hand back.
“This is an example of what not to do,” he says. He doesn’t say whose paper it is, but he reads portions of it and it’s clear it’s mine. And everyone knows it’s mine because it uses the Children’s Education Fund as an example and everyone knows that’s where I work part-time. “Come on, people. You’re better than this. This is laziness. Make real arguments and site credible sources. You’re graduate students at Boston University. This isn’t some online college. We have a reputation. And if you’re more interested in your social life and who’s taking you out to expensive dinners than your work, you might want to reassess whether or not you even deserve to be in this program.”
And then, if there had been any doubt as to whose paper he was massacring, he took that same paper, held it out before him and said, “Emily Brown.” I had to walk across the entire class and take that D paper from him.
When I went back to my desk, Natalie leaned over and said, “What the hell?” Even Winston, a guy who usually sits in front of me, turned around and said, “What’d you do to piss him off?”
I hold my hands up. “Nothing!”
I decide I should say something to Brent. The truth is I haven’t really spoken to him since the luncheon, and that’s probably cowardly of me. He did take me on what I now know was a date—in his mind—and I left with someone else. I actually thought about dating him at one point. Boring, safe Brent.