Page 7 of Love, Academically

Paladin (noun) pal·a·din

A Knight renowned for heroism and chivalry

Rhys

Dan had missed kickboxing once already this week, and Rhys wasn’t holding his breath that he would turn up for class tonight either.

It was great that he and Jasmeet were getting on so well, but seriously?

Rhys had already had to partner someone he didn’t know earlier that week, and he didn’t really want to do it again. He pulled out his phone to text Dan.

Rhys put his phone down on his desk and lined it up next to his keyboard. He glanced at his computer screen, but the email still sat accusingly on his screen. He read the one line for the twelfth time.

The annual Dallimore family dinner and drinks was coming up, a celebration of All Things Dallimore.

It was really for the senior management of all subsidiaries of Dallimore International, but Rhys still got an invite, even though he no longer played an active part in the Dallimore businesses.

Probably to ‘show him what he was missing’, or to ‘prepare him for his return’.

He had avoided it for the last couple of years, but with this email from his little sister, Elin, he really didn’t have a choice.

He had to go and be paraded around, pointed at, judged, and more than likely, laughed at.

Forging your own way in life was what his father had expounded, but only when that forging happened through the lens of Dallimore International.

You were expected to ‘do your duty’ to the family, ‘be part of the team’, and flog your guts out working your way up before starting your own business, under the umbrella of Dallimores, and heaven forbid if you wanted to do something else.

He glanced at the date, even though he knew full well that there was only another eight months left in the agreement between him and his father. Rhys had been given five years to ‘make something of himself’ in this academic field.

‘It’s long enough in business, why not in academia?

’ his father had said. There was this awful looming spectre of daily suits and glass offices and stakeholder meetings and working every minute of every goddamned day in a business that was so mind-numbingly boring, plus all the endless family politics.

Some people (e.g., Elin) thrived on that.

Rhys did not. He did not want any single part of it, and the prestigious Fellowship was what he had set up to his father as a measurement of ‘success’.

Because his father needed something tangible, something measurable, something where he could say, ‘no, my son Rhys doesn’t work for the family business, but he’s the youngest member of the Royal Historical Society’ to his buddies over expensive whiskey, or when pretending to like golf.

But also, Seren would be there.

Seren, with her sleek black hair, her fitted dresses, her French-manicured nails.

Rhys simply could not turn up without screaming ‘success’ in all aspects of his life.

He tapped his top lip in thought. Lila Cartwright had said ‘anything.’ A woman on his arm would prove he was successful in his private life, if not his work life. That he didn’t need the Dallimore name to enable him to be happy and successful.

Rhys’s mother had set him up on precisely three ill-fated blind dates before he’d stamped his foot and firmly told her to butt out. This could be his way of proving that he was perfectly capable by himself.

Lila was friendly, pretty, and she would be able to glitter and dazzle with that smile of hers.

The more he thought about it, the better it seemed. There would be no sympathetic glances, there would be no veiled ‘are you okay’ comments and arm squeezes when Seren walked in.

Yes, decision made.

He would take Lila Cartwright to the Dallimore family dinner and drinks as his fake girlfriend. Well, assuming she agreed. But again, she had said anything.

It was gone one, so Lila should be on lunch. He’d tell her now, so she could prepare. It was in a couple of weeks, so there was plenty of time.

Rhys stopped by her office, but she wasn’t there. He checked the little cafe downstairs, glancing over students’ pumpkin-spiced lattes or (if they were pretentious enough) espressos, heads buried in books and phones. Nope.

When he didn’t need her, Lila Cartwright turned up like a bad penny, but now he actually wanted to speak to her, she was missing, like John from his father’s (Henry II’s) first will. Rhys smiled at his own private joke. That was funny.

Becoming increasingly frustrated, Rhys headed outside and took a long look around.

She was definitely at work today, it was a Wednesday and she’d been in her office when he’d passed it that morning on the way to a lecture.

He stalked toward the middle of campus. Where was she?

The university was nice at this time of year, fresh and crisp, hopeful and clear, full of new undergrads and dreams. But Rhys didn’t see any of that as he stormed past the Engineering Department, sweeping his eyes across the lake on his left.

A lone figure sat at the other side of the water, and Rhys would recognise that blonde hair, barely kept back in its bun, anywhere.

Finally, Lila. Her sky-blue coat bright against the dull autumn mist.

Rhys wished he’d brought his jacket as he strode around the lake towards her, because being outside for longer than three minutes on this dreary day was chilling his bones. Why was she out here by herself staring into nothing? And why did she look so morose, so lost? He slowed his steps.

Should he ask her? Should he comfort her?

Yes, they’d spent a few hours last Friday night being ‘friends’, if you could put it that way, but they weren’t real friends, and he certainly wasn’t qualified to offer any help, unless she was contemplating Richard I’s capture in Austria.

But he should check that she was okay before he asked for a favour. That’s what people did. But it wasn’t a favour though, it was her end of the bargain, her part of the deal.

“Hey,” he said, when he was close enough. “What are you doing out here by yourself?”

He was more brusque than he would have liked, but it was chilly without his jacket and he was scouting outside like a truffle pig.

Lila turned, her usually playful eyes hollow and dull. When she saw who it was, she plastered a smile on her face, but Rhys wasn’t fooled. He may not be great at reading people, but he’d seen… yes, despair.

“Oh, hey Rhys, what are you doing here?” she asked, shuffling up to make room for him. He eyed the old wooden bench carefully, before perching in a space that looked the least damp.

“Looking for you,” he said.

Lila had chosen a good spot. It was nice out there with the ducks paddling lazily, away from the bustling university.

“What do you need? I’m due back at two, but I can help now if it’s urgent,” she said, all signs of sadness gone.

“Oh, no, nothing work-wise.” He paused. This stuff really was not his forte. What would Dan do? Dan would ask. “What’s wrong? You don’t look very happy.”

“It’s nothing, it’s just I always start questioning my life choices when I see Jason.” Lila sighed and her shoulders slumped. Definitely not happy. “I’ll be all right in a couple of days.”

He’d asked what was wrong, and she’d told him, but Rhys had absolutely no idea what to do with the information. He nodded.

“Anyway, if it’s not work, what do you need me for?” she asked, her real smile back. How did she pull that brightness from the depth of her soul when she was feeling so down?

“Uh, well, I’ve got this thing coming up and I,” he hesitated, “well, I need a girlfriend, and since I was your boyfriend last Friday…” Rhys trailed off.

This was harder than he thought it would be.

Why was he nervous? It wasn’t like he was asking her out for real, this was just her ‘anything’ part of the bargain.

“Oh, right! Yes, I can do that, you just tell me when and where.” She smiled warmly, putting him at ease. “What kind of thing is it?”

“It’s dinner and drinks with my family.” Rhys swallowed, trying to keep the distaste from his face. It’s not that he didn’t like his family, it was more that he didn’t want to socialise with them. Actually, not the family, it was just his father. And Seren.

“There’s a story there, and I can’t wait to hear it.” Lila checked her watch and stood up, eyeing him shrewdly. “Walk back with me?”

Rhys was chilly and set a brisk pace, forcing Lila to hurry to keep up.

“So,” she prompted, “why do you need a fake girlfriend for family dinner? I’m sure someone would love to go out with you, for real.”

He shot a look at her, wondering if she was making fun of him, but her eyes were fixed on the damp ground. It had been a long while since he’d had a real date, not just a quick roll in bed to release some frustration.

Thinking of an excuse was taking too long.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not a big fan of people,” he said wryly.

“I find it hard to trust, especially with—” He cut himself off with a snap of his jaw.

She’d have to find out sooner or later anyway, he was just so used to hiding this part of himself.

He didn’t want to be tarred with that particular family brush.

People treated him differently when they found out he had money.

Or, at least, his family had money and were (there was no sugar-coating it) extremely influential.

“Especially with what?” she said, waiting patiently for him. It was nearly a minute before she huffed dramatically. “Good lord, Rhys, it’s like trying to do origami with tissue paper.”

What did that mean? He looked at her blankly.

“Which is really hard,” she clarified.

“Oh right.” He looked down at the leaves lying sodden on the ground. “My family are the Dallimores, of Dallimore International. My full name is Rhys Aubrey-Dallimore. Aubrey is my mother’s name, Dallimore is my father’s.”

Silence.