Becoming His Muse, Part Two (2 page)

As I look everywhere in the room except at Logan, I am relieved to see Dr. T heading my way. I turn my attention on him as I catch my breath. I overhear Logan pick up where he left off, making it sound as if he had paused to allow some deep, intelligent thought to rise to the surface. He’s very convincing. I will not risk looking back at him though. Dr. T smiles broadly at me.

“Ava, you came. Excellent. And Ronnie’s here, too, I saw. Derrick and Casey said they’d be here as well.”

DnC, as they’re affectionately called, are a couple. They say they do their best work after sex and while naked. Suffice it to say they never compete for studio time. They rent a loft off campus and do most of their studio work there. I don’t know them well because they keep to themselves.

“Seems to be a pretty good turnout,” I say. Dr. T is the main organizer of this evening and I know he wants it to go well.

“At least one senior student from each department has shown up, and three quarters of the profs,” he says, taking stock. “Have you met the new writing prof?”

My throat tightens around my wine and I’m afraid I might cough. “Uh, no. Not really. Just at the reading. Before…”

“Before he got the post? Lucky bastard. It happened so fast and so easy for him. Luck of the Irish, I guess. He’s caused quite a stir among the female students, let me tell you.”

“Some of the guys, too, I think.”

Dr. T raises an eyebrow but we’re soon interrupted when I hear a high-pitched squealing version of my name. Jenny appears beside Dr. T. She slings her arm through his as she glugs back her last sip of wine.

“
Love
the free wine, Rich,” says Jenny. “Classy.”

Dr. T tries to pull himself out of Jenny’s hooked arm. “How many have you had, Jenny?”

She looks at her empty glass. “Counting this one?”

“Jenny, it’s meant to break the ice not sink the Titanic.”

“Oh, call me Ariel,
pleeease
….? It’s so much sexier than plain old Jenny.” She sticks her tongue out to emphasize her disgust with her boring name. Her tongue is painted red with wine.

Dr. T laughs and glances at me. “Is she always this flirty?” He finally pries himself from her grasp and glances nervously around the room.

“Let’s not give anyone the wrong impression, Jenny. We a have a professional student teacher relationship to maintain regardless of the flow of wine.”

“Phooey,” says Jenny as Dr. T moves away to talk to some other people. When he’s gone, Jenny leans toward me. “All the profs are so stiff this year. That new policy has them all running scared.”

“Their jobs depend on their professionalism. Best not to make it more difficult for them.”

“But then there’s the new guy.” Jenny gestures toward the couches, toward Logan. She licks her lips. “He’s scorching hot.”

I risk a glance over there. Luckily, Logan’s not looking my way, which is definitely good but also kind of bad because one of the bustier female writing students is practically pouring herself into his lap even though she’s acting as if she’s pointing at a book on the coffee table in front of them. I feel a shiver of jealousy and have to force myself to look away, though before I do I notice Ruby’s not with the group anymore.

“Can I have a sip,” says Jenny, taking my wine glass. “Oh, hey Ruby.”

I turn and Ruby’s right there. She gives me a hug. I glance over to the couches. “Who’s big boobs over there?” I say.

Ruby laughs. “What? Jealous?”

Suddenly I’m worried she’s guessed something about me and Logan but when Jenny says, “Aren’t we all?” I realize this is the general opinion amongst the female population on campus. Logan’s presence has turned up the heat.

Ruby, shaking her head at me, catches Jenny’s eye and says, “For once, someone has bigger boobs than Ava and she takes offence.”

“That’s not it,” I say, embarrassed. “She’s just fawning all over Logan. I mean, Mr. O’Shane. The new professor,” I add, so that it doesn’t seem like we’re on such familiar terms.

Ruby arches an eyebrow at me and then casts a hooded glance in Logan’s direction. “If you really want to know, that’s Sherriann. She just transferred from USO. I think she’d much rather be
written about
than do any actual writing. But don’t worry. She’s as disappointed as the rest of us. The big news tonight is that Mr. O’Shane has a fiancée back in New York.”

My feet go cold, my fingers numb. I feel dizzy, and wobbly on my feet. I’m about to reach for Ruby’s arm to steady myself but Jenny hands me back my glass of wine in that moment. I take it, try to get it against my lips, but my hand is shaking. I push the glass to my lips to steady my hand, the glass, and myself. I down the rest of the liquid, which steadies me somewhat.

Jenny is
awwwwing
with disappointment about Ruby’s announcement, but then she shrugs it off. “Plenty of fish in the sea,” she says.

I feel as if the ocean’s just dried up into a desert.

“Air. I need air,” I say and begin to take jelly-legged steps toward the hall. Ruby follows me, chattering away, but Jenny folds herself back into the crowd.

“It’s a tad disappointing but a good thing, really,” she says. “I mean, I know you weren’t going to break any rules anyway, but knowing he’s not even a rule-breaking option kind of simplifies things, don’t you think? He’s
really
off limits now. Honestly, I’m kind of relieved. Not that it will stop anyone from flirting, but…”

Ruby’s banter is not helping. In the hall, I say, “I’m fine, Ruby. I think it was just too hot in there. Go back and enjoy yourself.”

I stand in front of the elevator.

“Are you sure? Are you coming back or going to your dorm room?”

“I’ll come back. Promise.” My coat's still there.

“Good. You know, I think the Dean’s office has a small balcony.” She points. “It’s the room at the end of the hall.”

The elevator seems to be stuck on the 18
^th
floor. I look down the hall.

“I’ll check it out.”

“Want me to come with you?”

I shake my head. “I’ll be back in about ten minutes.”

“If you’re not back in fifteen I’ll send out a search party.”

Ruby heads back to the lounge as I take short, careful steps down the hall feeling unstable in my heeled boots.

Apparently Logan O’Shane can make my knees go weak with desire
and
shock. Why did I even believe anything he said? He’s a writer. He lies for a living. How could I have been so stupid?

I push open the door to Dean Ascott’s office. There’s a wide wooden desk in front of floor to ceiling windows dressed with full dark drapes. I aim for the windows and pull the drapes aside on one end. I see the narrow balcony beyond and search for the sliding door latch.

My breath is coming in short, sharp gasps. I feel a cry coming on. I push my hands to my cheeks and scrunch up my eyes. I won’t cry. I won’t give him that kind of power over me. I focus on slowing down my breathing. Drawing deep inhales to my belly, I release my breath through my mouth slowly and evenly.

As I open the sliding door, cool air rushes in and envelopes me with its fresh sensual reality. My muscles tense. My bones straighten. I step out, take the two steps to the railing and lean my arms on the cold steel. The fresh air infiltrates my lungs and oxygenates my brain. I am no longer dizzy, no longer on the edge of hyperventilating, but I am aching with a sadness that doesn’t match the situation, and I feel unnecessarily humiliated. Why?

We had no promises, no real agreements, just an invitation. One I had planned to turn down.

I shake my head, aware that I’m fooling myself. This is not a decision the head makes. Somewhere between Logan’s first and second gaze, my body knew. Somewhere between his visit to the art studio and my visit to his office, my heart knew…

I bang the heel of my right hand against the cold steel of the railing. Regretting that, I pull my hand toward my stomach and hold it close with my left hand. Then I draw both arms around myself in a hug, to ward off the cool evening and my own misgivings about Logan O’Shane.

I’m not entirely naïve. I know his muse invitation had been for sex not love. For mutual inspiration and nothing more. For breaking and becoming newly whole. And the fact that it’s over before it’s even started shouldn’t surprise me. He is a complicated man and clearly I’m not ready for his complications.

I hear a noise in the room behind me and turn. Through the parted drapes beyond the glass I look across the office to the door. Someone is entering. I feel a surge of panic that I might get in trouble if I’m caught here uninvited. Just as I’m stepping to the side, to conceal myself, I see Logan lean into the room. My movement catches his eye and he strides toward the glass door. I remember him ‘striding’ across the quad toward me the other day. I laugh at my own innocence. It’s not a real laugh, though. It’s bitter and self-admonishing as an angry heat floods upwards from my toes.

Through the glass door, Logan says, “Ava, are you all right?”

I clench my teeth. Of course I’m not all right. I reach for the door and pull it shut in his face. We stare at each other through the glass. He smirks and slides the door open.

“Ava?”

I slam it shut again, cross my arms, and turn away. The latch is on his side so he just opens the door again.

“What is this about?”

I drop my arms and turn to face him squarely. “You are a liar. A liar and a cheater!”

“Am I?”

“A
fiancée
?” My voice drips with disgust. “Does she know about your penchant for young
muses
?”

His eyes roll back with understanding. “Ah, word travels very fast around here. I was actually counting on that.”

I shake my head and reach for the door again intending to hold it shut this time. I will stay outside on this balcony all evening if it means staying away from him. The door jams. He’s stuck his foot in the gap.

“Aren’t you interested in my side of the story?

“That is your side. You have a fiancée. A direct quote from Ruby. You want to tell me how you proposed or something?
Not
interested.”

I wrestle with the door. He starts laughing. Then, with his greater strength he forces the door open and steps onto the balcony, too close for comfort. I hold my fists up prepared to push him away if I have to, but he grabs them, holds them tight.

“You’re right about one thing. I am a liar.”

I’m flushed with anger and trembly with hurt. It feels sick to be right about something you wish weren’t true. I’d pummel his chest right now if he weren’t holding my hands so tight. We’re so close, and I’m breathing shallowly again, gasping almost.

“I lied about being engaged,” he says.

My breath stops entirely for a second.

He says, “I made up that story to deflect the unwanted attention I’ve been receiving lately.”

I look up into his green eyes trying to read truth from fiction.

“I want everyone to believe that story, Ava. Everyone except you.”

I sigh deeply, letting oxygen flow back into my blood.

“It’s not true?”

“I’m not engaged. That’s the truth.”

“Why lie about that?”

“Despite the clarity of the college board rules I’ve had several flirtatious invitations.”

Jenny comes to mind. And that girl on the couch. Her intentions were pretty obvious.

He adds, “It seems they count on the professors to uphold the rules around here.”

“Now you’re interested in following the rules?”

“They are there for a reason.”

Does this mean his invitation to me is being retracted?

Arriving here tonight I was determined to tell him 'no', but as soon as I saw him across the crowded room, I knew I wouldn’t be able to turn him down. Then I was so excited, and wondering when, or how, we might get to be alone, to tell him, 'yes'. But then the shock of his public admission about a fiancée sent me over the edge to the point that I’d have been willing to throw him over the edge of this balcony. But now… now that I’m sorting the truth from the lies, I’m back to wanting him, to wondering when we’ll be alone. And we are right now, and he’s telling me he’s decided to start following the rules? I feel as if I’m on a roller coaster that won’t end.

Logan’s grip on me lessens. He gently drops my hands to my sides. We continue to stand close together. I don’t want to move away. I can feel his body heat. I want to lean into it but I don’t move yet.

“It may be too great a risk to take,” he says.

“Is that why you followed me here? To break this off before it’s even started?”

“To give you the opportunity to walk away, yes, but knowing the truth at least. I don’t want anybody else here, Ava. That’s why I made up a story about being engaged. I want everyone else to think I’m unavailable. Only you know the truth.”

I walk a few steps along the balcony and then place both hands on the railing, my back to him now. “What is the truth exactly?”

“The truth is that I want you…” He moves to stand behind me. He’s close enough for me to feel his warmth against my back but he’s not actually touching me. “I want
you
to be my muse.”

His words send a shiver up my spine.

I take a deep breath to compose myself.

“Maybe it is too great a risk. I don’t want to get expelled. What if I say no?” My words sound strong, as if I really am considering my options.

My back is to him but somehow I know he’s frowning. He sighs and says, “I won’t like it, but I’ll respect it.”

I step back, feeling the cool night air swirl around me. “And your need for a muse?”

“The muse chooses the artist, not the other way around.”

He seems so different now from in his office where I felt his pressure, his desire, as if I had no choice but to fall in to his arms, to contort to the shape of what he wanted me to be. But now he’s giving me an out. A choice. I think I should take it. But what are thoughts compared to the feelings running rampant across my skin, through my veins, in every fluttery heartbeat? I act as if I’m considering my options but I know, deep down, there is only one door I will go through, the door he has opened inside of me.