Page 24 of Love, Academically

Anagnorisis (noun) an·ag·no·ri·sis

The point in the plot at which the protagonist recognises his or her or some other character’s true identity or discovers the true nature of his or her own situation

Rhys

The seminar was hell. There was no other word for it; hell.

Not only was he stuck on a merry-go-round of ‘but Richard I was a good king’ with his students who had watched one too many Robin Hood adaptations, but he was distracted.

Couldn’t concentrate. Things like ‘pay more attention’ never once graced his school reports and he prided himself on his ability to single-mindedly focus on whatever he was doing.

In fact, even his father had praised his machine-like ability to work.

But his brain was failing him today. There was little to no concentration and certainly not in Lila Cartwright’s office.

Because he had already eaten two cookies from the tin that sat on the little table, and he wanted another.

Because of the lemon cake smell coming suspiciously from one of Lila’s desk drawers.

Because of the way the light from the window made her hair seem to glow.

“Mr Aubrey?” the sniffler asked, although she was much less sniffly today.

He tore his eyes away from Lila’s fingers dancing on the keyboard of her computer and focused on the student in front of him.

“Yes?”

“Do you think he did?”

Rhys raised his eyebrows expectantly at Sniffly Girl. He wasn’t going to ask her to repeat herself, but if she wanted an answer, she was going to have to. What would that stupid course that he’d dragged himself through have told him to do?. He sighed.

“I apologise, I was distracted. Can you repeat that, please?”

The students exchanged glances.

“Do you think John had Arthur of Brittany killed?” DeVon asked, leaning forward. At least they were engaged, but when on earth did they move on to Richard’s successors?

“I think we will never definitively know,” he said vaguely. “But it is highly likely that Arthur died in captivity in Rouen Castle and that John did indeed have a hand in it.”

“But he was his nephew,” DeVon commented.

Rhys smiled. The Angevin family tree was convoluted and difficult to get to grips with, but DeVon had obviously done some work for this seminar.

“Do you think that mattered to John?” Rhys probed.

He could be doing so much more with his time than coaching students through the ups and downs of medieval kingship.

After his two lectures this afternoon, he had forty minutes scheduled to, once again, fine-tune his statement for his Fellowship application.

As a reward, he could lose himself in Henry II’s impressive administrative structure for an hour and twenty minutes. Then kickboxing, dinner, and home.

That was his orderly day and he liked it.

What he didn’t like was Lila, with her welcoming smile and her horrendous yellow dress with the blue splodges on it, worming her way into his mind and taking attention away from his important things.

The students’ voices faded to a murmur as he watched Lila talk quietly on the phone, the handset propped under her chin as she tapped at her keyboard, a smile on her face. She had a smile for simply everyone.

Even fucking Jason.

Lila replaced the phone and glanced up at him. She nodded towards the students and mouthed ‘pay attention’, before turning back to her computer screen.

Oh right. Great. Like he could concentrate now when all he could think about was the way her lips formed words and all the filthy things that he could use that mouth for.

What the fuck was wrong with him? Rhys couldn’t be in her office anymore. It was too suffocating. This was not good. Perhaps he was ill. That would explain everything; the lack of concentration, the tightness in his chest, his hands clammy on his papers.

Rhys stood abruptly.

“I think that’s enough for today,” he said, interrupting Other Girl halfway through whatever she was saying.

“Oh, okay,” DeVon said, confused.

He could see Lila frown at him from the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t look at her.

“I’ll see you in the lecture tomorrow and we’ll discuss Arthur of Brittany in more detail next week,” he said, already halfway across the office to the door.

Escaping to the sanctity of his office, he closed the door behind him. It was cool in there, and smelled of nothing. There were no crumbs in here, no cookies, no cushions. Nothing. It was calm and orderly and safe.

He stared at the papers on his desk, ready and waiting for him. He had exactly twenty minutes before his lecture. Alone and safe. But he wasn’t safe from his own fucking traitorous thoughts. Lila’s soft giggle was not part of Henry II’s movements in 1174.

Fuck.

“What’s with you today, man?” Dan asked, offering his hand.

Rhys was panting, staring up at the florescent lights flickering on the ceiling of the kickboxing dojo. Dan had knocked him on his arse with a sweeping leg that Rhys should have seen coming; the same sweeping leg that Dan had been trying on him every single kickboxing lesson for the past two years.

“Whatever it is, I’ll take it.” Dan hauled him up. “I am never letting you forget this.”

Rhys glared and shook out his arms, bouncing on his toes. When the sun shone on the corrugated iron roof in this unseasonably warm week in late October, it was positively melting.

“I don’t know,” he said, throwing a punch at his friend. “I’m distracted.”

“By what?” Dan asked, bobbing under his arm and jabbing him in the ribs. “Or, by who?”

“Whom,” Rhys corrected, trying to get a kick in to force Dan back and give him a bit more space.

Dan stopped bouncing and grinned at him.

“What?” Rhys grumbled. “Get your guard up.”

Dan did as he was told and Rhys landed a solid round kick to his mid-section.

If anyone could help, it was Dan.

“It’s Lila.” Rhys threw a jab. “Miss Cartwright.”

“I know who she is.” Dan smirked.

“She’s just in the way all the time. I can’t stop—” Rhys bit down on his words.

“Thinking about her?” Dan offered. “Looking at her?”

Rhys’s eyes closed and he tightened his jaw , hanging his head.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. She’s a pretty girl.”

“Woman,” he said, absently.

“What?”

“She’s a woman, not a girl.”

Dan laughed, and headed over to the side of the mats to swig on his bottle of water. There were more breaks than normal because of the copious amounts of sweat that dripped down their faces. A cold shower would be incredibly nice (and fucking welcome) when he got home later.

“So, you like her, yeah?”

“She’s nice. Yes, I like her.”

“You know what I’m asking,” Dan said, lifting his eyebrow at him.

Rhys stared over Dan’s shoulder. He wasn’t so socially inept that he didn’t know what Dan was asking. He knew, all right.

Sure, he was attracted to her. Who wouldn’t be? But Dan was wrong; Lila was more than pretty. She was beautiful. Even in that yellow and blue dress that she was wearing today, which was perfectly hideous, but somehow suited her smile. Although how anything could suit a smile was beyond him.

Rhys had enjoyed sitting with her at the weekend.

It was nice, with no expectation of conversation, no expectation of anything really.

She was comfortable and she had listened to him so well.

Lila had made an extremely uncomfortable situation almost palatable.

Best of all, she didn’t judge, she encouraged.

Whatever path he chose, whatever he decided to do with his life, the only thing that Lila wanted for him (and for everyone, it seemed) was for them to be happy.

Selfless. That was a good word to describe her.

Generous with her smiles and selfless to a fault.

Otherwise, she wouldn’t still be paying the loan that prick took out with repayments coming from her account.

Something would need to be done about that at some point, because it wasn’t right.

Was it even legal? If she’d signed it, then yeah.

But now they weren’t together any longer and he was a big-shot hospital doctor, he could damn well pay for his own fucking loans.

“You’ve got it bad,” Dan said with a laugh.

“I haven’t got anything,” he mumbled.

But Dan was right. Having a bit of a thing for Lila would explain his sweaty palms and his inability to look anywhere else when she was near him. A bit of a thing. Yes, that was it. A thing. But only a bit.

“It’s all right, man. Don’t worry about it,” Dan said, pushing his water bottle top down to close it. “I saw it coming a mile off.”

“What?”

“You were protective over her that night we met her and Jasmeet,” Dan said with a shrug.

“Uh, hang on, I was just doing what Jasmeet told me to,” Rhys said.

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to, you know,” Dan said, “be protective protective.”

Okay, so Rhys had no idea what ‘protective protective’ meant and he wasn’t about to ask.

He followed Dan back into the middle of the mats, grabbing a kick shield on the way.

As Dan practiced his round kicks, Rhys analysed some more.

If he could understand what was happening inside of him, then he could live with it.

This was an arrangement, a fake date, she was a fake girlfriend, and for one night only.

He couldn’t get attached. She was his box-ticking item for ‘successful personal life’ without input from the Dallimore family.

Regardless of how he felt, she didn’t want any kind of relationship. She’d made that clear.

But he couldn’t help remembering how good it felt waking up next to her. When he was with her, it was like the stone that lived in his chest, the crushing anxiety of expectation, just… dissolved.

“Your turn,” Dan said, gesturing for the kick shield. Rhys moved into his fighting stance.