I'm late and definitely overdid it at the gym this morning. The lecture hall is already filling up with students when I arrive. I make my way, very slowly, to the table and podium at the front.
Unsettled thoughts about Mother and Mitchel kept me from delving deep into my work last night once Mitchel and his manager left. That was followed up by a restless night, laying awake and thinking about spellbinding eyes, a wide smile and an offer to continue.
I got up early, drained a pot of coffee and went to hit the weights at the gym. My neck kept snapping around every time someone left the men's locker room. I saw I was late right after realizing Mitchel probably wouldn't be coming into the gym because he said he had an interview.
My muscles were only a little sore at that point. After sitting in the car during the drive over, I had started to ache. Now, after walking the long path from my parking space to my office and finally here, I just want to lay down.
I set my bag down on the table, leaning on the flat surface to inwardly groan the pain away. Students are still filing through the door. As they enter, their boisterous conversations all die down to hushed whispers. They all look at me before glancing away.
The squeak of tablet arms falling into place stand out among the unusually low-pitched conversations. When I look around though, they stop. Many of my student's eyes are watching, maybe even more now than when I am lecturing.
My TA enters, slowing to a stop to give me the same bizarre look everyone else does before approaching. I pull out today's materials to have her connect to the smart TV. "Good morning, Fern, here are the slides for today."
"Good morning," Fern takes the USB but stands there, hesitating. "Um, I wanted to thank you again for helping our study group. I know you usually aren't available outside of your office hours."
Fern had been the student who came knocking the other day at the library. When Mitchel had sat disheveled and aroused in front of me, tasting like an exotic dessert. At least he had been able to sneak out undetected.
"Professor?" The TA is still standing there. I steal a glance at the clock on the wall past her. "Actually, there was something else I wanted to ask because I saw–"
"I'm sorry, you'll need to ask later, please get the slides going. I need to start now."
Leaving her to the task, I try not to limp on my way over to the door, closing it to signal the start of class. Trudging back to the podium I wish I had a chair today.
With the glow of the smart screen behind me, I tap the keypad on the podium and begin. "Last week, we talked about the Utian civilization and its development of urbanism. Now, if you've done the assigned reading, it leads right into —Yes?"
There are over a dozen hands raised among the students. "Are you having trouble hearing me?"
"That's not it, professor." One student sits forward, one of the third year history majors. "We all want to know if it's true?"
I look back at the slide on irrigation in the Sacramento Delta then back to the hall. "What part are you unsure of? Because the large-scale irrigation definitely-"
"Are you really dating Mitch Wild?" A different student yells from somewhere in the back.
"Oh." I probably would have understood right away if I wasn't so tired. I do indeed have more attention from the class than ever before. The one little post was effective.
The inquisitive faces bore through me. "I-um, I don't really think now is the time-"
"Are you really rich?" Another student calls out.
"What?" I gape.
"Of course he's rich; he owns Collins Hotels."
"Oh, no, no, no." I cross my arms back and forth as the students volley questions.
"Why do you teach here then?"
I slap my hand down on the podium, shaking it to its base. My shoulder protests the sudden movement. I hold my face tight so as not to let out a sound at the pain welling up. The students are quiet now, sitting and waiting, letting me think.
"Where...did you hear all of this?" The caption on last night's post only mentioned my name.
"Internet sleuths were going off like crazy last night after Mitch Wild posted on Instagram." The first student answers.
"Internet sleuths?" I mumble, but the class erupts into loud chatter, multiplying my confusion.
"Mitch Wild is Live now!" The student's shout triggers a flurry of phones being brought out.
"What are you—" I try to ask but to no avail. Some students gather together, sharing screens. Giving up, I walk to the closest cluster in the front row.
Leaning over the crowded heads, I see Mitch on the screen. The background is nondescript, his hair is sitting damp against the collar of his tee shirt.
"What is this? Is this live?" I ask the nearest student, who looks at me askance.
"Of course, he's giving his fans an exclusive."
I nod my head up and down. "Exclusive, of course." I turn back to the screen. As Mitch talks, auto-captions float across the screen. Little hearts and emojis drift up from the bottom of the screen.
"Turn it up." Someone demands.
"...is he an actor?" Mitch's voice reaches me. "Nope, not an actor, Skyler's a university professor."
Oh, my god.
"Let's see, user5401 asks, 'How did you meet then?' Well, we actually met at the gym. He was so cute, and he had gotten his pants-"
No, please. Don't.
"-caught on a pull-up bar and needed me to take them off—"
"Okay! Stop! Stop, no phones in class." I hastily step back. I feel myself yelling, but the heat in my face drains all the sound from my ears. God, Mitchel really loves that story.
Most of the heads raise up to look at me. The rush of blood recedes away, but not the fire in my cheeks. "Please put your phones away during lecture time!"
Turning my back on their stares, I ram my hip into the table before stumbling around it. Biting back the 'fuck' forming at the edge of my lips, I brace my hands on the podium. I try to reconcile the knowledge of what Mitchel has done.
"Um, professor?" The room in front of me has quieted down and one student speaks up. "Are you okay?"
I take a deep breath and blow it out before straightening up. I run a hand through my hair and close my eyes briefly. When I open them, I see a room of expectant faces.
Like everything else with this plan, things are spiraling out of my control. I have severely underestimated the impact dating Mitchel would have.
Considering the alternative of calling Mother and handing over my pride...then I choose this.
"Okay. Okay, yes. I am dating Mitchel-Mitch Wild." I put my hand up to halt the immediate assault, "I will only answer three questions and only from students I choose. No phones out. And then we continue with class. You, what's your question?"
***
I push through the door of my office, letting it swing into the wall with a thud. My arms drop my stuff on the round study table just inside the door. Not even bothering walking to my desk I pull out one of the flimsy chairs and sink into it with a loud sigh.
My body is long past tired and achy. Today has been twice as long as any other day. I had to strategically move through the hallways all day to avoid students lying in wait for me.
Mitchel's Live was over already by the time my first class ended. I did find clips posted on his account. His version of the story showcased his amazing acting. He kept everything on this side of true with a spin of romantic intentions.
He even waxed poetic about knowing my mother. I know she saw it. Her silence is louder than another phone call.
My first thought to text him had been Why would you tell everyone about the pants thing? Deleted immediately. Instead, I sent him. I had to answer to my students about you today.
Every class had the same questions and reactions. I'm tired of talking about myself. And I'm sick of listening to everyone talk about Mitchel in the same weird way. It was all 'Mitch Wild' this and 'Mitch Wild' that, always in an awed, breathless tone.
Dragging my phone from my pocket I check for any messages from the man that's been torturing me all day. Nothing. I plonk my phone onto the table. Tipping back in the chair, I lean until my head hits the wall.
When the phone chimes, I snap to attention. Grabbing it up, I read the text message. From my brother.
Bring me some food from that place I like near campus. At the office. I have a lot of questions for you 🤨
***
By the time I gather enough energy to finish my work, traffic is horrendous. I get Eric's choice of food, Thai, and make it over to Collins Headquarters but most of the offices are dark. I go straight in, taking the elevator to the executive floor.
Pushing through Eric's office door with a light knock, I find him still immersed at his desk. Looking up at me over multiple stacks of tabbed and organized papers, Eric smiles only after seeing the bag of takeout. "Thank you, I'm freaking starving."
I head for the sitting area in the middle of the room, setting the bag down on the low table before sinking into the stiff cushions of the sofa. "Then why didn't you go home and eat sooner?"
"Too busy." Eric joins me, loosening the knock in his tie before pulling out the food.
"Besides, at home, all Mother's talked about the last few days is Mitch Wild." Eric exaggerates Mitchel's name, imitating Mother's voice filled with disdain. Shaking his head, he digs in. Between bites he asks, "Aren't you eating?"
"Not right now. I'm too tired." I let my head hit the back of the solid cushion and close my eyes. "So, what? You called me here because you want to hear more about 'Mitch Wild' only from me this time?"
"Yes." Eric effuses. "I can't believe I had to ask. You came out and you're dating the Mitch Wild. This is the kind of news I want."
"Yes, I did come out finally but no, Mitchel and I aren't really dating. I just used your idea."
"My idea?"
Opening my eyes, I roll my head to look over at Eric's confused expression. "Yeah, to find someone that Mother will hate."
Eric's mouth drops open, gaping silently as food drips off his fork. "You used that?" Eric leans toward me. "Jesus. I was joking, Sky."
Heat starts to bloom on my face. I slouch down further in my seat and close my eyes again. "Well, I thought it had potential. It worked, too, didn't it?"
The next sound out of Eric is a laugh of pure enjoyment. "It absolutely did! You're dating Mother's archnemesis."
"I didn't know about that part! It's like this." I tell Eric what's been happening since I started the plan. Mitchel's suggestion that he be my date. Finding out who he is. Being caught at the gala, Mother's anger, and even her interference so far.
Eric is laughing before I even finish, shaking his head at me. "You've really lost your mind."
"Alright, shut up." Sitting up now, I realize sharing the stress has lightened my mood. I pull some of the food my way and join in on the late dinner.
"What are you going to do now?" Eric asks with amusement still in his eyes.
"We're going to keep pretending. Mitchel needs to do it for his publicity, too."
"So, do you like him?"
"What? No." I shift a little in my seat. "I told you, we're just friends."
Eric watches me, his lips pressed into a smile. "You're acting shy but you don't like him? Come on, he's one of the hottest men in the world."
"He's voted third hottest in America." I share, taking a bite.
"What?"
"Twelfth in Europe," I say around the mouthful of food.
Eric slaps a hand on his leg, throwing his head back with a chuckle. "See? You're stating facts over this man, you like him."
I don't bother to argue anymore, turning my attention to the food in front of me. I ignore Eric when he nudges me. And nudges me again until I respond. Glancing over I see his massive grin.
Waggling his eyebrows he asks, "Do you like him enough to..." He trails off, biting his lip. I kick out at him, just skimming my shoe against his shin as he dodges out of the way. He doesn't need to know what Mitchel and I do or might do.
"Okay, I'll stop." Eric throws his trash away, carefully straightening the area. "I understand where you're coming from, avoiding the blind dates, but I was kind of excited thinking you'd found someone you wanted to try for."
Wiping my mouth with a napkin, I ask. "What does that mean?"
Eric gives a little shrug. "I mean, in school you dated girls that asked you out. After that, you dated women our mother set you up with. You never seemed to mind when any of those relationships fizzled out. Or when you were straight-up dumped because you're boring. You only ever followed along with what was planned."
"That sounds like me. But I know that my date will enjoy it if we do what they plan."
Eric rolls his eyes. "Who'd want to do all the work like that in a relationship? Did your girlfriends have to schedule sex with you, too?"
Leveling my gaze on him, I state clearly. "No, I can handle that just fine. And am I supposed to listen to you about dating? You're still waiting for Mother to sell you into matrimony like some Victorian maiden."
Eric jumps across the couch, he tries to land a smack on my head. It's a short scuffle. He's fast but I've got more weight, easily holding him away. He finally sits back down, fixing his tie and re-tucking his shirt.
Silently, we both agree to let it slide.
Eric changes the subject. "You're pretending to date Mitch, so why don't you lean into it?"
He spots my confused face and elaborates. "Practice your dating technique. Plan dates, be spontaneous, take action. You two won't pretend forever so use this opportunity."
"Use...dating Mitchel?"
"Yeah, what do you think?"
"I..." Mitch's confident smile comes to mind. And what he'd said to me in the library. We're both consenting adults. As long as we're willing...I end up answering with, "I'll think about it."
"Great–-" Eric's phone beeps, a loud obnoxious notification tone that blocks out his words. It turns his face down into a scowl. Pulling out the phone, he speaks as he types. "Stop. Fucking. Bothering. Me."
"What does River want?" There is only one person on this Earth who brings out Eric's rude and argumentative side. River Lee.
Our family has been friends with the Lees since before we were born. River's mother and ours were expecting at the same time.
Eric and River were born exactly one month apart and it feels like they've been fighting for first place ever since.
"Mother and Uncle Euan want to do a collaboration between our hotels and FeshLee Grocery."
"That sounds reasonable."
"No, they want me and him to do a collaboration."
"You and River? Together? Well, they've clearly lost their minds."
"Exactly. It's not helping that River's on some kick to get on his dad's good side. He's been pressuring me non-stop to get on board."
"Oh." I don't have much stake, or interest, in the company as it is. And it's useless, sometimes painful, to get involved in any battle between these two. "Well, tell River I say hi."
"Go text him yourself."
His reaction puts a smile on my face. "You two will get along one day."
"Never," Eric swears, his voice a hiss. He gets up and stalks over to his desk, arranging all the papers in front of him.
Laughing to myself, I settle more comfortably on the sofa. "Since I'm here, I need a list of events that Mother is planning." As our mother's baby boy, Eric gets the privilege of going to almost everything.
Eric pauses, aiming an amused expression at me. "You want more events to go to? You have gone crazy."
"It's for the plan, a temporary necessity." I clarify.
"Alright, I'll send over anything that I have but," Eric points a finger at me. "You have to tell me which ones you're going to take Mitch Wild to."
"Why does that matter?"
Eric lets out an obnoxious little grin. "I want to be there to watch the fireworks go off."
I shake my head a little. When my phone rings, my first thought is that Mitchel is getting back to me finally. I hastily answer. Except it's his manager calling.
"Becca?"
"Skyler, hey, I need you to do us a favor. We have a little situation."
"Is everything alright?"
"Oh, yeah, yeah, but tomorrow morning I need you to come visit the hospital."
Rising to my feet, my voice booms out, "The hospital? You said everything was alright."
"Oh, and bring some flowers, too."