Page 16 of Love, Academically

Tsundere

(chiefly Japanese fiction) A fictional character who fits the archetype of being cold or even hostile towards another person before gradually showing a warm and caring side.

Rhys

It was the day he had been dreading.

His first seminar with the students who hated him. Supervised. In Lila’s office.

He wasn’t sure which was worse; having to do his job in full view and scrutiny of someone else, or the fact that it was Lila, who he had wound himself around like ivy last week.

Why had he agreed to this again? Oh, that’s right, because a formal complaint on his record would never be erased.

Even if it wasn’t upheld, the allegation would still be there.

There would still be a record. His slim chance at the Fellowship would slip from his grasp.

And his father would find out. Somehow, in some way, his father always found out.

He’d replied to Elin and called his mother to say that he would be at the dinner and drinks party, and that he was bringing someone.

He’d then avoided the calls from Elin, and put a quick stop to the questions from his mother.

What was he supposed to say? Yes, she’s coming as a favour to me because I pretended to be her boyfriend once.

Well, twice. No, she’s not my real girlfriend, not really even a friend.

Rhys was slowly articulating in his mind how to explain his family to Lila.

Logically, it wasn’t a difficult thing to understand.

He’d just left the family business. There we are, done.

But the iron band wrapped around his chest tightened whenever he thought of verbalising what a disappointment he was to everybody.

The disparaging curl of his father’s lip whenever anyone asked Rhys about his work.

The gleam in his eyes whenever the five years that Rhys had been given to make a success of himself was discussed.

Because that five years was very nearly up.

Then he would be enveloped back into the family machine, the unrelenting corporate grind.

He’d be expected to toe the line, work every hour God sent, be embroiled in the awful family arguments that pitted siblings and cousins against each other.

Not unlike today’s seminar topic; Henry II’s relationships with his sons, starting with Henry the Young King. They’d move on to Richard, John and other children later on in the semester.

Rhys gathered his paperwork, because he always gave out source material to encourage the students to actually read original texts, or the closest translations thereof and to make up their own minds, not just regurgitate something someone else had made up their own minds about.

That’s what teaching was all about, getting them to think properly. It was so frustrating when they couldn’t be bothered to give it some proper, independent thought. But teaching was a means to an end, a means so he could study and do what he wanted to do.

He didn’t know why his stomach dropped as he walked to Lila’s office. It was like he had to perform in front of her, to make sure that she thought he was good enough. He really didn’t need any academic validation from her, of all people. She was not an academic.

Rhys hadn’t exactly been avoiding Lila. No, it was more like if he didn’t have to see her, he wasn’t going to go out of his way to see her.

Most things could be dealt with via email.

Besides, the awkwardness had grown. How was he supposed to act around the woman he had spent the night with?

Especially after so suavely disparaging her and putting her down. Like Jason.

Just so people don’t think I spent the night with you.

But he hadn’t meant it like that. It was more that he didn’t want it to be awkward for her, people thinking that she was sleeping with a lecturer (which, technically, she had).

But it hadn’t come out like that. Well, she certainly hadn’t taken it like that.

He should have been more tactful, but it was so hard to understand what people thought sometimes.

He’d noticed she was walking without crutches now, but he hadn’t seen Petunia in the car park.

Petunia. What a ridiculous name for a car.

“Hello, Lila,” Rhys said, waiting to be invited to her little sitting area rather than overtaking her office completely.

“Rhys, why hello. How lovely to see you,” she said, and a small smile touched her lips. Her blonde hair was trying to escape, and she dutifully tucked a strand behind her ear.

“Nice to see you as well,” he replied, a little confused. Did she not have this seminar in her calendar? Did it not pop up as a reminder an hour before?

Lila grinned. She was teasing him. Again.

“Go on, make yourself at home,” she said. “There are cookies on the table.”

He frowned. This wasn’t a social call, it wasn’t a mother’s gossip group, there should be no need for cookies. But the aroma of vanilla sweetness in her office was making his mouth water.

“Thank you.” Rhys put his coffee and papers on the table, making sure they were nice and neat. “How have you been?”

Lila blinked at him.

“Good, thanks. How are you?” she asked, turning her chair to face him and clasping her hands in her lap.

“I’m fine.”

He sat back in the chair by the coffee table, trying to be calm, but his shoulders and jaw were way too tense for any kind of ‘relaxed’.

Lila tilted her head to the side, narrowing her eyes at him. “Are you?”

No.

“I really don’t want to do this.”

“What about it in particular do you not want to do?” she asked gently.

He took a long look at her, and she looked straight back with her guileless blue eyes.

Rhys found himself increasingly annoyed that he noticed what she wore every day.

Sometimes he appreciated it. Sometimes he noticed how her clothes would look ridiculous on anyone else, but on her they fit perfectly, hugged her body and made her eyes bluer.

Sometimes the colours clashed and gave him a headache.

Either way, he always noticed. Today, it was the objectively horrible tight, silver trousers and oversized red and blue patterned shirt, and she made it look good. Really good.

She was still waiting for an answer, and honesty was best. Surely?

“I’m not sure if you’ll take this in the way I mean it, but I don’t want to hold my seminar in front of you.”

“In front of me? Or in front of anyone?”

Her. In front of her. So she could see all of his vulnerabilities, everything he lacked. So she could see how bad he was at reading social cues.

He didn’t answer.

“I get that it’s difficult. It’s like you’re under supervision. But honestly, I won’t even be paying attention. I’ve got so much work to do.” Lila gestured towards the computer.

“But the fact that the students need—” He dragged a hand through his hair roughly. That was too much. He didn’t need to talk about how disappointed he was.

“Look, think of it as a new environment,” she said. “They want to learn. They want to be here, okay?”

Rhys nodded. They may want to learn, but he didn’t feel they wanted to learn from him. At all. And that was his own fault.

“Have a cookie, Rhys.” Lila gestured to the plate on the table. “Get your blood sugar up.”

He took a long look at her. She’d obviously tried to make this as easy as possible for him.

“Thanks.” He nibbled at a cookie. It was good.

She smiled warmly and turned back to her computer. There was a pink flush creeping up her neck. As if she could feel him watching her, she tucked her hair behind ear and ducked her head, a tight little smile curving her lips.

Was she self-conscious? Perhaps she was. But why? His forehead creased in a frown as he studied the tilt of her head towards the computer and that errant lock of blonde hair that always seemed to escape from her bun.

For the first time, Rhys wondered whether taking her to the Dallimore dinner was the best idea.

What if she hated it? What if his completely corporate-driven family cut her down to size?

Would Lila’s happy smiles be enough to cut through the harsh business talk?

He’d just have to make sure that she wasn’t left alone and protect her from the prying eyes and accusatory tones of his family.

“Hi, Lila.”

Rhys jerked his eyes away from her to the cluster of his smallest seminar group, huddled together in the doorway of Lila’s office.

“Hey, DeVon.” Lila gave them that bright smile. “How are you, Kerry? Ada?”

She knew their names.

They nodded and gave her a mumbled “fine thanks” before shuffling over to the coffee table.

Rhys stood from his chair and forced a smile to his face, the floral cushion falling to the floor.

Lila’s office was less than ideal, because whilst it was cosy and comfortable for a nice chat, a seminar should have more of a formal setting.

There was no need for blankets draped over the back of the sofa, or for plump cushions with tassels at the corners to welcome the students.

“Hello. Thank you for coming to this seminar in a different venue. Lila has very kindly provided cookies,” he said, gesturing at the coffee table and inviting them to sit down.

Why he had to behave like he was a butler in a country house when he was just here to teach them, he didn’t know.

He had better things to do than pandering to students.

They sat warily on the edges of their seats, the girls on the little sofa huddled together as if for warmth, and DeVon on the other chair opposite him. Their eyes kept flicking over to Lila tapping away on her keyboard.

Might as well get this purgatory started.

“So, what can you tell me about the relationship between Henry II and his son, Henry?” Rhys forced lightness into his voice.

The three students glanced at each other before DeVon piped up.

“I think Richard was obviously Henry’s favourite, not Henry the Young King,” he said, lips pinching tight, waiting for whatever Rhys had to say.