My plan to hit the gym after my workday vanishes when the announcement of a last-minute reunion echoes through my classroom.

  Smashing my hands against a sack, or another poor fellow also there to let off some steam, would have been appreciated. A large lump of unfinished business settled inside my stomach from the start of the day, and not even a long exhale can expel the unpleasant feeling constricting my throat.

  As I walk toward the meeting room, a woman sprints next to me, shoving her knee into my briefcase. “Ouch!”

  Well. “Sorry,” I breathe, loosening my tie around my neck.

  “No, it’s alright,” she fights against the rebellious strands of her hair. “I don’t think we’ve met?”

  “We haven’t, indeed.”

  She extends her hand. “Laura.”

  “Alex,” I answer, returning the gesture. After an awkward smile, we both continue along the corridor. It appears that she’s going the same way. And there’s no point in pretending I’d rather not engage in conversation. She doesn’t look like she’s about to give me much of a choice, anyway.

  She straightens her pencil skirt, turning her head a few times before deciding on what to ask. “Do you know what this is about?”

  “Not a clue.”

  “I wonder if it’s about what happened to Dan.”

  Am I in the middle of a gossip session? “Who’s Dan?”

  She whirls around gracefully, blond hair switching from shoulder to shoulder. “Psychology’s department head!”

  “Right,” I lie, fumbling with the first buttons of my shirt. “Of course.”

  “It was last week, I think,” she reminisces, her short legs working double. “Everyone heard him scream. He was outraged.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “He’s often pissed, but that was a different kind of pissed.” She stops dead in her tracks and puts a hand on my sternum, eyes as wide as an owl. “He was menacing them!”

  “Who?”

  “The people he was with. I had never seen them before. But he wailed, threw his hand in the air like a lunatic.”

  I swallowed an embarrassed smile. “What was he yelling about?”

  Fortunately, her hand drifted to her lips as she recollected the moment in her head. “Something about… being utilized and unfairly investigated.”

  “Alright… how did it end?”

  We resumed our pacing toward room 15-04. “He showed them the exit and said they should investigate elsewhere. Talking about… Belzebub and the Devil… I didn’t get that right.”

  Another professor hails her from inside the meeting room, and she leaves without even saying goodbye. What was this about? An investigation within our departments?

  In his line of work, maybe Andrew answered to the Psychology department at some point. He could know something.

  I immediately reach for a corner to disappear into once I’m inside. Our last encounter in this very room with the other professors happened a few hours ago. There’s no doubt everyone still remembers the way I exited the party.

  Emily and Sarah whisper into each other’s ears, and the nature of their murmurs is unknown. But by the constant ogling in my direction, I’d say I have an idea.

  Russel is nonchalantly talking with his fellow mathematicians, a hand buried in the pocket of his pants, and the other holding a glass of what I assume would be whisky.

  Taylor is a few steps ahead. Carefully engaged in a discussion of his own. His thin glasses, almost at the tip of his nose, threaten to fall on the floor. Maybe Caroline likes to be watched from above them. It snatches a snort from me.

  “What’s so funny?”

  Andrew’s voice emerges to my right, and I instinctively follow the sound. His back rests against the wall behind us. He gazes at me expectantly, his smile different from the usual one he carries with him. “Says the man with the widest grin.”

  He shakes his head, giggling, strands of hair falling from his impeccable, slick back haircut. I notice his pinched lips. Give him a few more instants in the hope he’ll share whatever’s been on his mind. When his eyes fall back into mine, my heart skips a beat.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  He glows. He’s resplendent. Something deep inside me shifts and twirls and snaps. Or joints. I can’t describe it. It’s nothing that I’ve experienced before. Am I sick? Am I about to throw up in the toilets of room 15-04 for the second time, two days in a row?

  The motion of my arm and hand occurs without my knowledge. It’s only when my index and thumb slide back the unruly string of hair on his forehead that the realization hits. It might also come from his expression of utter shock, or the evident closeness of our bodies.

  I’ve experienced that before. The immediate pull, the relentless need for proximity.

  His jaw and throat work. And even when his mouth opens, it takes him endless seconds before words come out. “What are you—”

  “Good evening, everyone!” Haynes taps on the microphone perched a little farther in the room. I tear my eyes away. Andrew takes a loud inhale. I exhale just as loudly.

  The conversations quickly cease. “Thanks for being so numerous on such short notice,” The Dean continues. “It might have occurred to you that we usually plan an important conference within the first few months of the school year. For… administrative reasons, that I won’t bore you with, this statement has been a little delayed, but here we are!”

  I can feel Andrew thrumming next to me. I don’t dare look his way. “I’m talking, of course, about our annual interdisciplinary symposium!”

  Right. For the last four years, I’d expected this event like a kid would wait for Christmas. But this time, it had completely slipped my mind.

  Exterior sponsors usually join the gathering and assist the symposium. Funding agencies, industry representatives, and researchers from other universities, too. Even special guests. One year, a senator attended the symposium. It’s serious stuff.

  “This year,” Haynes proceeds. “The President, the department heads, and I have decided to bring to light the researchers in our wonderful labs of Behavior Science and Cognitive Development. And we have chosen none other than our Synergology Professor, Andrew Miller, to play the part!”

  I’m forced to watch him, now. The applause bursts in the room. Andrew lifts himself off the wall and walks toward the Dean with a huge smile on his face. He looks perfectly comfortable and self-assured. As though the last twenty seconds never happened.

  “Thank you, Clark. It is an honor to represent the Cognitive and Development Lab through this symposium, which I will conduct with care and consciousness.”

  “Magnificent,” Haynes adds, eyes glittering. “To be completely honest with you all, Doctor Miller has previously been aware of his implication in the conference. He has been asked to team up with another to present the University to visitors. To show our undeniable and infallible cohesion.”

  I pinch my lips. Didn’t expect to hear this word out of his mouth. Clark buries a hand inside the pocket of his pants, leaning casually on Andrew. “I don’t know if you had time to think about it, but do you have an idea of the person you’d like to work with?”

  “Oh, absolutely.”

  Andrew grabs the microphone with fierce intent, then steps forward.

  He’s resolute.

  I see it in his eyes.

  Because they fall over mine, and he doesn’t let go. Not before he adds. “I’ll be working with the other Doctor Miller. Alexej.”

  Their gazes feel over me like a million sniper visors.

  There’s a little silence. A microscopic hesitation that they all notice before they burst into awkward applause.

  I share their surprise. Why is he doing this? Is it because of what we talked about?

  He shouldn’t have chosen me because I whined while being heavily drunk.

  He should choose a person with similar values and aligned with the topics of his research. This isn’t some trivial decision to be taken; this is about a symposium, where hundreds and hundreds of important people will attend, and the results of this conference will probably change the course of the department's future.

  The applause irregularly stops.

  Clark has alternated between lots of different expressions, but bewilderment is the last one that lingers. Eventually, he clears his throat and asks that I join them over where they stand.

  I push against the walls of my comfort zone and forget the idea of running away like a coward. Isn’t it what I wanted? An opportunity? Recognition?

  As my feet gradually get me between Andrew and the Dean, a generic smile over my face, my hands locked tight behind my back, I wonder what good it’ll even do.

  “Here it is, then!” Haynes blurts. His embarrassed laugh doesn’t help feeling better about this. “Andrew and Alexej will prepare their presentation for the next few weeks. The symposium will take place in two months, the week following the December holidays, and… we can’t wait to see what both of you will come up with. Thank you all.”

  Clark clasps his hand above Andrew’s shoulder and gives him a curious look before reaching for the door.

  We remain still, quietly watching everyone leave the room.

  “You could have chosen anyone,” I eventually say, my thoughts unorganized.

  “I could have, yes,” Andrew answers, gazing right ahead.

  “I didn’t need a symposium.”

  Our eyes collide, harsh against soft. He’s confused. “What is going on?”

  I pull on my tie even harder, removing it from around my neck. “I wish I knew.”

  “I thought you’d be happy.”

  “Have you even thought this through?” My voice is hoarse, heart thundering in my chest. I’m glad I have the handle of my briefcase to squeeze.

  He turns completely to face me. “I didn’t need to think it through; it was the right thing to do.”

  “I have already so much work…” I shake my head, rolling my rings around my fingers with my thumb.

  “Alexej.” He reaches for my arm, but I step back.

  “Why did you do it?”

  He smiles, deviating his gaze, as though hiding something. “It’s the perfect opportunity, you should be grateful—”

  “So, that’s what this is about,” I interrupt, breath ragged. “Your insane need to be right. This way I owe you, isn’t it?”

  “Come on, that’s not…”

  The lights are too bright, the sounds of my own heartbeat deafening to my ears. Every ounce of my blood has frozen. My limbs feel stiff. Time has stopped.

  I can’t hear what he’s saying, nor look at him anymore.

  Until my own brain takes command, and I see myself launching for the door.

  Andrew doesn’t follow.