Faking It (McCullough Mountain) Page 5
Alec settled onto a high back sofa and sipped his wine. She took a quick sip of her whiskey—which was rather fine—and let the burn warm her throat.
“Would you care to sit?”
She turned and eyed her options. There was a wingback chair facing the fireplace, a wooden chair tucked into a nice leather topped desk, and the sofa. Right. She slowly lowered herself to the edge of the sofa, staying far on the opposite end from where he sat.
“Soooo,” she said, taking another sip of her whiskey. “Wanna tell me what your note meant?”
He leaned back and casually draped an arm over the back of the sofa. She fidgeted under his scrutiny. “I’m disappointed you dropped the class.”
“I didn’t care for the professor.”
He arched a brow. “Yet you’re here.”
“I’m curious.”
“I know.”
She finished her whiskey and sat the glass on the table. She quickly leaned forward again to relocate it to a coaster. “Sorry.”
“Not a problem.”
Her fingers drummed over the denim covering her knees. He wasn’t saying anything, just watching. Finally, unable to take any more of the silence she asked, “How old are you?”
“I’m forty.”
“Isn’t it against the rules to have a student at your house?”
“You’re not my student and we aren’t doing anything untoward.”
She laughed. “Only a Brit can get away with words like that.”
“Does my vocabulary irritate you?”
“No.”
“You seem nervous.”
She flicked her hair behind her ear, disguising her anxiousness. “Wrong again.”
He placed his wineglass on a coaster with a muffled click. “Why don’t we discuss Plato?”
“Why don’t we pass?”
He stood, the action completely graceful, and walked slowly to the bar. “I’m sure you recall your first reading assignment, The Allegory of the Cave. There’s a reason I always assign that first. If you can’t break open an egg, it’s virtually useless. I find The Allegory a great starting point that opens students’ minds for more intimate self-examination. Your first mistake was thinking yourself beyond this and jumping ahead.”
He returned to the sofa with the decanter and poured her two more fingers of whiskey. If she drank too much she could always walk home. It was only about eight blocks from her apartment.
“I read the assignment.”
“I know you did, but you also read the parts of The Republic I had yet to assign. The course is designed to take several weeks, because ideas take time to formulate. Tell me what you got from The Allegory.”
She eyed him as she sipped her drink. “It’s a slave puppet show.”
“Who are the players?”
She sighed. If he thought she could read something that many times and not recall the details he’d highly underestimated her. “There are the men chained to the wall. They’ve been there all their lives. Then there are the men behind them, but the guys chained to the wall can’t see those other guys. They’re at their back and behind a fire.”
“So the shadows are their reality.”
“Yes. That’s all they’ve ever seen. They don’t know there’s anything else.”
“And what happens when a chained man discovers the world outside of the cave?” he asked.
“It hurts. The sun hurts his eyes.”
“What does the sun represent, Sheilagh?” He was sitting across from her again.
She drew in an exasperated breath. “You? I imagine you’d like to pretend you’re the center of the universe.”
He chuckled quietly. “Close. The sun represents knowledge.”
“I knew that.”
“But you must apply it, Sheilagh. Socrates describes the outside world as painful and confusing to the men who have been trapped in the cave their entire lives. All they know are shadows, illusions, not even of real men, but of puppets held by men in front of a fire.”
“Yeah, but the man adjusted once he got used to the real world.”
Alec sipped his wine. “Yes, and eventually he wanted to share his new found knowledge with his friends still chained to the wall, but should he attempt to enlighten them, they’d only accuse him of being crazy.”
She rolled her head back on the cushion, completely fed up with the story. “Right, because they’re all convinced the shadows are reality. I get it.”
“Do you? The men chained to the wall are the ordinary people. They mock philosophers, because ordinary people aren’t able to see the world as it truly is. Their stubbornness keeps them from enlightenment. To be a true philosopher, one must first have the courage to leave the cave. My question for you, Ms. McCullough, is are you planning on staying in the cave or will you eventually brave the light?”
She frowned. “I’m not in a cave. I’m in your living room, praying my ears don’t bleed from hearing the same exact story for the hundredth time.”
His hazel eyes narrowed. “You may hear it, but you aren’t listening. Life can be as simple as shadows on the wall, Sheilagh. It can exist in the safe environment you’ve always known—giving a false sense of control—or it can be real. But it will never be anything more than the same illusion you’ve lived for the past twenty-four years if you don’t push yourself to learn what else is out there.”
She dipped her head and gave him an incredulous stare. “You think I live in a cave? That I’m not smart enough to be here, is that it?”
“On the contrary, I think you have every right to be here. I think it’s a crime you aren’t embracing the education being offered. I have no doubt you can move from the morons chained along the wall and be a great puppeteer by the fire. You can return home with a degree and enchant them all with your limitless knowledge, but you’re only fooling the people who don’t know any better and you know it. I want to know how that is enough for you. You’re at one of the finest universities on the continent, yet you seem determined to leave here no more enlightened than you were when you arrived. Is it the degree you want? I can give you a piece of paper with your name on it right now, if that’s the case. That paper doesn’t give you knowledge. When I read your file I assumed you were the kind of student prepared to learn, but your arrogance has baffled me.”
He pointed to the wall where several diplomas were framed. “I don’t give a damn about those pieces of paper. They could burn for all I care. It’s what’s in here that counts,” he said pointing to his head.
She finished her whiskey and stood. “Thanks for inviting me. I feel utterly enlightened.”
Alec stood. “Why not learn what life is really about, Sheilagh? Venture out of the cave you’ve spent your entire life hiding in and have something real to go home and tell your family.”
She turned and snapped. “Look, you don’t know shit about me or my family, so why don’t you quit while you’re ahead?”
“I know that your town’s population is small. I know you had the highest SAT scores in the history of your high school. I also know there’s a reason you waited six years to attend college when you could have gotten a full ride the moment you graduated.”
She spun, narrowing her eyes. “What’s your deal? Find some other student to harass and stay out of my business.”
“Why did you wait, Sheilagh?”
“It’s none of your business!”
He stepped closer. “What if I want it to be my business?”
She frowned. “Back off, professor. I don’t know what your obsession is with me, but get over it.” She grabbed her purse and he caught her arm.
Electricity zipped up her spine and she caught her breath. He was standing very close and she was strangely lost in his hazel eyes. His voice was low, barely a whisper. “Did something happen to you?”
She jerked her arm away, completely unprepared for the feelings his touch stirred. “No. No one did anything to me. I was happy, that’s why I stayed.” Crap. “Nothing”—she
clarified—“happened to me.” She’d not meant to imply that someone might have done something to her.
“Do they believe you when you tell them that?”
“Fuck you.” Her vision narrowed and blurred. She blinked hard against the stupid tears, refusing their presence.
Suddenly he stepped back. He looked away and then back. For once there were traces of confusion in his arrogant eyes. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said, his voice once again composed.
What the fuck was happening? She was out of breath and her palms were sweating. She suddenly saw him differently, no longer her superior. He was an incredibly handsome man and she was suffocating in his fancy living room.
“I have to go,” she said and fled to the door.
He didn’t follow her. When she made it to her car she locked herself inside, unsure why she was suddenly so unnerved. Glancing back at the Victorian, she saw his shadow in the window and that was enough to kick her into gear. The drive home was a blur of familiar impressions, yet as she parked outside of her apartment, she had no memory of getting there.
Chapter Four
I can’t turn it off. Everything inside of me feels so exceedingly dark and hollow, yet so incredibly heavy. I’m exhausted from lugging this sense of nothingness around. I just want to sleep. Sleep and cry. Is this the cave? Am I the cave? I hate that fucking analogy. Stupid cave. I need to do something crazy, something distracting, something to shut off the unending silence. But I’m so tired, tired of the game, tired of performing, tired of all of it. Maybe I’ll just sleep and this horrible feeling will be gone when I wake.
Sheilagh immersed herself in her studies. By that Saturday she’d managed to finish every upcoming project due over the next month. When she couldn’t bear the quiet solitude of her apartment a moment longer, she decided to go out.
Dressing in jeans and a simple black sweater, she went to a microbrewery just off campus and settled in at the bar. For as much as she didn’t want to be alone, she really wasn’t looking for company either.
What were Finn and Kelly doing at that moment? Kelly was probably working while Finn, Luke, Tristan, Ashlynn, and Mallory all kept him company. Colin and Sammy might even be there too. This bar sucked compared to O’Malley’s.
“Hi.”
She turned and found a guy smiling at her. He looked about nineteen. “Keep moving, sonny.”
He frowned and did as she said.
The brewery was crowded. The noise was comforting. The bartender brought her another glass of Oktoberfest and she slid a ten across the counter. Her phone buzzed and she pulled it out of her pocket.
The screen read Captain Assclown. She frowned and opened the text.
Not having whiskey tonight?
Her spine stiffened and she couldn’t breathe. Where was he?
Trying not to look like a spaz, she casually searched the bar. Her phone buzzed again.
Across from you.
She looked over the bar, past the large microbrew concoction taking up space and past the bartenders rushing to fill orders, sucking in her breath when she found sharp hazel eyes watching her. The sight of him made her unsettled in a way she wasn’t used to. A strange sort of adrenaline rush provoked her fingers into motion and she lowered her head and texted him back.
Stalker.
A second later her phone vibrated. She opened the message.
Hardly. I was here first. I think you’re following me.
She scoffed, but her lips twitched with the desire to smile. Her thumbs rapidly flew over the keys.
Certainly not, cave boy. Try again.
His text came through a moment later.
You had nothing better to do and you’re halfway through your syllabuses. You’re killing time.
Damn it! How was he so perceptive when it came to her? She wasn’t that translucent.
Wrong. I’m three quarters through.
She watched as he smiled when he read her text. He had a very nice smile, good straight teeth. Her phone buzzed and with it came a sharp little twinge of excitement.
Lol. I should have known. Care to join me?
She read his text and stilled, unsure how to proceed.
Will we be discussing philosophy?
She waited, uncertain how he’d respond.
I promise, no talk of school or mention of Plato or Socrates. Just two equals having drinks together.
She hesitated and sighed. Finishing her beer, she grabbed her purse and rounded the bar. Alec was again dressed casually in jeans and a dark sweater. His shoulders filled out the soft material in a way that made her take notice.
“Hi.”
He turned and his gaze traveled over her. Stiffening with indignant bravado, she played at appearing indifferent to the intent, yet somehow casual way he inspected her. “Hi. Would you like to get a table? I haven’t had dinner yet. Are you hungry?”
Dinner was more than drinks, but she hadn’t eaten yet either. “Okay.”
He stood and she was reminded of how tall he was. He dug in his pocket and placed a few bills on the bar. She waited for him to choose a table and followed his lead. Keeping with his statement about being equals, he slowed his steps and walked by her side. She was completely unprepared for the press of his palm at her lower back as they worked their way through the Saturday night crowd.
When they reached an empty table, he pulled out a chair for her. “Quite the gentleman, Dr. Devereux.”
“Please, call me Alec.”
She thought about the name she gave him in her phone contacts and just managed to hide a smile. “Okay.”
A waitress arrived and took their order. Before Sheilagh had a chance to order he said, “I’ll take a glass of the house wine and she’ll have two fingers of your top shelf whiskey, neat. We’d also like two dinner menus when you get a chance.”
She raised an eyebrow, but said nothing about his highhandedness.
He settled into his seat and looked at her. “I promise I won’t say anymore on the subject, but I wanted you to know I’m sorry about the other night. My behavior was uncouth and I was out of line.”
She found the lilting pattern of his speech captivating. People with accents like that could read the phonebook and sound sexy. She was suddenly self-conscious of her slight redneck drawl.
“I don’t like talking about myself.” Yet she managed to somehow explain her behavior with such a response, a peculiar thing she didn’t usually do. She frowned inwardly and told herself to knock it off.
He gave you a D.
He waited, his hazel eyes studying her. “What do you like to talk about, Sheilagh?”
She shrugged. “Whatever. Anything easy.”
He nodded. “Easy. You seem to thrive with easy.”
“Who doesn’t? The worlds too messed up to waste time on difficult issues.”
“Do you honestly believe that?”
“Are you being philosophical?”
“Sorry. It’s difficult not to be in my line of work.”
“How long have you lived in America?”
The waitress returned with their drinks and menus. Alec opened his and gave it a quick perusal then placed it on the table before he answered. “I moved to the States when I was eighteen. When I returned to Wales on a visit I discovered my girlfriend had a child, my child. I married her, we moved to the States. Several years later my wife asked for a divorce. I gave it to her. She and my son returned to Wales.”
“Do you miss him?”
“I did, very much so. He’s since returned to the States. We see each other often.”
“How old is he now?”
“Twenty-two.” Almost her age. “Do you know what you’re going to order?”
She glanced at the menu. “I’ll have the house salad and a side of fries.”
The waitress returned and he placed their order. She sipped her drink. “How long have you worked at the university?”
“Twelve years.”
“Do you miss Wa
les?”
“Sometimes. Do you miss your home?”
“Yes.”
“Am I breaking rules if I ask about your home life?”
He’d just told her a whole bunch of his personal business. She supposed there was no harm in sharing a bit of her background. “I come from a family of nine. I have five brothers and one sister. I’m the baby.”
“Do you like having a large family?”
“Yes and no, but mostly yes.”
“Why sometimes no?”
“It can be suffocating. Not only is our family big, my aunts have big families too. When we get together it can be overwhelming. In our town you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting a McCullough.”
He smiled. “I imagine living away from so many relatives is something you’re still adjusting to.”
“Yes, but I like it, most of the time.”
“What do you dislike?”
She sighed. He always tended to ask the difficult side of a question, forcing her to be introspective, something she usually tried to avoid. “Sometimes I miss the noise of home. My family’s incredibly loud.”
“Do you live in the dorms?”
“No. I have an apartment with a total prick for a neighbor.”
He grinned. “Tell me how you really feel.”
“He’s this uppity, prep kid who complains over the littlest noise. I swear if he bangs on my wall one more time I’m going to break down his door with my baseball bat and show him what real noise is when I make him scream like a little girl.”
He laughed. “You’re quite animated when you speak of your neighbor. Have you told him to leave you alone?”
“I mostly tell him to go to hell. I tried being nice, but I could hiccup and he’d complain.”
“Maybe he wants your attention.”
She snorted. “I doubt it. He likes me about as much as I like him.”