Chapter Nineteen

Maybe it's arrogance because I'm finally having sex again, but I'm feeling amazing. Cloud nine, holy shit is this real life incredible. Maeve and I are in full synch the rest of November, gliding through our Rocketman,Sing Street, and Les Misérables lectures, sneaking makeout sessions behind her locked office door before she had to move to her next class. I'd squeeze in any opportunity to see her, sleepy hookups at her place after attending her QuASA and film club events. We kept the promise of anonymity, avoiding anywhere I could be photographed again. Honestly, I didn't mind—all the best spaces to be with her were private. As soon as we both said goodbye to the students for Thanksgiving break, what had started out as a date to see a double feature at Alamo Drafthouse ended in sex at my place that had Maeve coyly texting me all Thanksgiving break about how sore she was.

Now it's the day of our last class of the semester before the take-home finals are distributed, and it starts out after Maeve's first sleepover. She's looking amazing in one of my Zara suits. I don't remember the last time I was this happy. So much so that I've slipped on a 2008-era studded belt and cat ears, and I only feel slightly like a dumbass.

"Do you know what day it is?" I ask, biting back a smile as I peer into the kitchen. It's past 8:00 a.m. and Maeve Arko is sitting at my kitchen table holding out a mug so Charlie can pour her a cup of coffee as he looks over a script.

Charlie doesn't look at me as he squints at one of my walls. "Tuesday?"

"Nope!"

I turn on Alexa to the Original Broadway Cast Recording of "The Rum Tum Tugger." Maybe it's because I come from an upper-middle class white family, but I fuck with Cats. And I spent too many hours in college learning how to pelvis-first masc stripper dance to Rocky Horror and later Magic Mike, so I know I fucking own this song. I sing to Maeve and Charlie the first couple of verses, my hands sliding to the center of my belt, my tongue out, my hips gyrating perfectly. And even though Maeve is bright red watching me, probably from secondhand embarrassment, I see a flicker in her eyes that tells me that she's into it.

"Why are you like this?" Charlie asks, covering his face to laugh.

"Hope you're ready, Dr. Arko," I say as I slide behind her chair and grab her shoulders.

"Is this why you wanted to do Cats so badly?"

I slip into my chair next to her and pull off my cat ears. "No."

"You never did theater in high school, yet you're still the worst kind of theater kid imaginable," Charlie comments as he takes my cat ears from me and puts them on.

Maeve crosses her arms and studies me. I could get used to the sight of Maeve in my clothing. I don't think I've dated anyone my size before.

"No," I repeat, throwing Maeve a small smile. "Gotta provide balance. I make a clown of myself, then Maeve delivers some stellar T. S. Eliot knowledge and a perfect history of camp. That's why together we make the ideal team."

That gets Maeve to beam. Her cheeks flush a light pink, and her big ole smile makes my heart melt. "Can you believe today is our last lecture?" she asks.

Nope. Yes, this week marks the start of December, but with next semester looming it doesn't really feel like much is going to end. In fact, I'm looking forward to making this scene in my kitchen a more frequent occurrence, and to our next class together in January. "End of one thing, beginning of another."

She knocks her foot against my leg. "I gotta get going soon, but you're welcome to hang in my office so we can meet up after my class."

I happen to glance at Charlie. As much as I do want to sit in Maeve's office and stare at her couch and think about fucking her on it, I'm needed elsewhere.

"Charlie, wanna work on campus?" I ask him.

Unlike me, Charlie does kind of like going out in public. He scratches his temple and looks at his pajamas. "Uh, didn't Maeve just say you guys had to get going?"

I glance at Maeve. "You can have until I get out of this lazy cat costume."

Charlie nods and runs back to his room. Once his booming footsteps have faded, Maeve looks back to me.

She tugs on the blazer. "Thanks for letting me borrow your suit. I promise I'll have it laundered—"

I hold up a hand. "I'll have it laundered. Please."

For a moment, a hardness falls over Maeve. My heart jerks in my chest, but then her features soften once more.

She squeezes my hand. "Thanks, babe."

I know it's only been a month since our first kiss. But sitting in the kitchen with her early in the morning, watching her have breakfast with Charlie, is doing something to me. Something too powerful to deal with before 9:00 a.m. I'm about to leave a room to go change for maybe five minutes, for god's sake, yet I want to kiss her goodbye. I'm going to see her again in a matter of seconds and I can already anticipate the ache of being away from her.

But I lean over and give her a peck anyway. Just the way my parents did every day before work, despite the fact that they worked in the same office.

"See ya in the car," I say.

She blushes. "What was that for?"

"I guess I like you." I even nail a wink as I walk out of the room.

The high lasts for a while afterward.

It lasts through the car ride, where Charlie blasts his Lady Gaga and All Time Low mix. It lasts through a contactless goodbye with Maeve in her office as she exchanges us for some binders and rushes off somewhere. And it's still there even after she leaves, when Charlie plops onto the couch Maeve and I almost had sex on and smirks.

"Zero to one hundred, huh?" he says.

My face gets hot. "We're not married."

"Yet you're already lining the floor she walks on in money, and you're following her around like a puppy. You're pretty smitten. It may even be time to take her out somewhere other than the movies."

Then there's a pause. A pause where Charlie should say And she's crazy about you too.

Charlie's not saying anything, and now there's this gross thought growing in my head. One I'm definitely supposed to identify as irrational and kick away. Here with Charlie—away from Maeve—I have some perspective, and I realize that this bit of dating is the easy part. That I have been deliberately choosing dates that have low chances of another paparazzi encounter. I have no idea if she'll get more comfortable with the idea of me being famous, or if her reaction at the tar pits is indicative of a bigger issue, one that won't be easy to handle no matter how good I am in bed. I bite my lip.

"That's not entirely up to me," I admit.

He looks up from his script. "What do you mean?"

"You know how we got photographed together on our first date? We haven't really talked about it."

"So talk about it. The last thing you need is to make this a bigger issue than it is."

I rub my forearms. The room is a comfortable temperature, but the hair on my arms is standing on end. "When we're at the house or here at school, I have her wrapped around my finger. But the second we cross that line again and go out in public and we have to dodge paparazzi and rumors and my public persona, I'm one bad day from losing her."

"Do you think maybe you should tell her this?"

The words lurch out of me. "I signed on to teach another semester, and Trish is riding me about what my commitments will be if Oakley gets into any spring festivals. Maeve has no idea, and I don't know how to bring it up now."

"Is that what this is really about?" Charlie takes a deep breath, then places a hand on my shoulder. The gesture, coming from Charlie, means I know I've done fucked up. "The semester hasn't even started. Just tell Maeve you got too excited and—"

There's a knock on the door that nearly startles me out of my skin and leaves me staring pleadingly at Charlie like he's the one out of the two of us who has more of their shit together.

But, to his credit, he nods at me and then gently pushes me by the small of my back in the direction of the door.

Ty wears his expressions on his face, and he goes from wide-eyed surprise at seeing me in Maeve's office to bright eyes and a wide smile.

"Ty, this is Charlie Durst," I intro. "Charlie, this is Ty. He's a PhD candidate in the Film Studies Department."

They shake hands, Ty confidently meeting Charlie's Hollywood-trained grip.

"Nice to meet you," Charlie says.

"Same."

It warms my heart to see Charlie beam for the first time in a while.

"Super-gay Star Trek was a revelation."

Charlie only beams harder. "Gotta start somewhere, right?"

I've been scouring the internet for weeks about Star Trek's status, but there haven't really been any articles mentioning the cancellation other than those written by fans lamenting the loss of rep. Ty's reaction cements that. I wonder if Trish knows anyone powerful who might be able to pen an op-ed or something that would pressure other networks to bring the show back. Or—okay, at least dig out a great follow-up role for Charlie.

But then Ty turns to me. "So rare to see you without Maeve these days," he teases.

I flush. "Sorry to steal your movie buddy."

"Maeve and I graduated to museum buddies now, so go ahead." He smirks. "Wouldn't want to keep you from your dates."

I visibly blush then, making Charlie laugh. "I…guess we haven't been hiding it well."

Ty shakes his head, a smile on his face. "No, not really." He stares at me a moment. "Maeve's teaching right now, isn't she?"

"Yeah," I reply. In my clothing.

"Cool. Dean Gomez was looking for you both to give you an update. Student evaluations continue to be stellar."

Which is kind of a huge deal.

"Good evals feel more Maeve than me," I say.

"You've done right by her. The way she's going, Maeve's a shoo-in for the SCA Media Studies Grant."

Holy shit. It's coming back to me, the name SCA Media Studies Grant popping up in bold in a list of things Maeve was working on. That's the award she needs to finish her second book, the one about monstrosity in modern queer cinema. She still hasn't gotten that locked in yet. Ty's words cause my throat to tighten.

"Yeah, Maeve's at the final stage. Just an observation period for one of her courses and she's locked in," Ty continues.

My heart drops. "They observe a class? When?"

"Next semester. It's low-key. They evaluate how she is in the presence of students, co-professors, and guests. It's so amazing that you're staying another semester. It may just help make Maeve's career."

I keep my smile plastered on. "Happy to help."

He turns to Charlie. "Great to meet you, Charlie."

Charlie, who looks as shocked as I am, manages to say, "Same to you, man!"

Ty leaves, the door clicking behind him.

Charlie turns to me, slow and overdramatically, which fits perfectly with the way my stomach is roiling. "So…maybe don't quit on Maeve right now…"

"Holy fuck, Charlie" is all I can say. I try to massage my stomach, but the pain is like a fisherman's hook in my guts. I still have to teach a class in a few hours, so my body needs to chill now.

He shrugs. "Maybe Oakley won't get into any festivals anyway?"

Maeve keeps herbal tea in her desk somewhere. I scoot over, start rifling through. Peppermint, chamomile, I'll even try fucking essential oils to get through this lecture. No tea, but she does have a little bottle of lavender. I squeeze some out and dab it on my face.

"You okay, Sulls?" Charlie asks.

The lavender isn't working. My heart's still racing, and the pain is intensifying. Fuck, I haven't had a full-blown panic attack since—

"I'll be right back," I say.

It's feels like Oakley in Flames keeps doing the exact opposite of what I want.

So watch it get into every spring festival.