Some Day One Day (Maylor AU)

Chapter 79

Brian entered the university's cafeteria that day as though he were a zombie. He could've easily been mistaken for one, thanks to the restless night he'd had, trading sleep for a long talk with Chrissie that no one felt good about when the sun came up and their daughter started making noises in the other room. Their shared dissatisfaction was obvious, but neither of them dared to revisit the conversation. They were both too exhausted and knew that—no matter how long or how hard they tried to work things out—their decision going forward wasn't going to be easy. They just weren't ready to give up what was holding them back.

It was safe to say that both their mornings had been rough. The headmistress had holed herself up in her office—blinds closed and lights off—and the professor had barely made it through his first two lectures, his disconnect with the lesson evident to his students whose simple questions he struggled to answer.

Brian wasn't even particularly hungry as he joined the line of students and faculty leading to the counter, but he couldn't stand another minute in that lecture hall, reminiscing about Roger's visit; remembering the way the blonde's shortened hair glistened in the lights suspended from the ceiling, surrounding him in an ethereal glow, and how it felt to have him close again, his body perfectly flush with his own as he clung to the chalkboard for support.

The professor shuddered at the arousing memory and reminded himself of where he was, scanning the crowded room behind him for pairs of suspicious eyes. He was sure that every single person would be looking at him, their narrowed eyes letting on to their knowledge of his secret; their knowledge that he was the fraud he always thought himself to be.

Although there were no heads turned his way, not even those of the infamous group of five that seemed to be everywhere the professor and headmistress were, Brian still hung his head in shame, thoughts brewing in his mind about how he didn't deserve his job; how he didn't deserve the relationship—relationships—he found himself in; how all he deserved was—

"Are you coming this weekend?"

Brian jumped at the voice, turning around to see Sting standing behind him—his arms folded over his chest and his lips curled into an amused smirk. "Excuse me?" the professor asked, his heart pounding against his chest.

"I said..." the substitute women's studies teacher replied, brushing past his colleague and snatching two recently washed trays from the counter, "...are you coming this weekend? To the show?" He spun around and handed Brian one of the trays, the professor snatching it harshly from his grasp.

"You know, I don't think I'll be able to make it," Brian informed him with a clenched jaw, nodding his head to silently nudge Sting forward—the line moving ahead behind him.

"Oh, come on. What's stopping you now?" the new blonde sneered while taking a step backwards, not daring to turn away from the professor. "And don't tell me it's that daughter of yours, because I refuse to accept that as your excuse. Try again."

"What if I told you I just don't want to go?" the professor snapped, slamming his tray down on the counter and sliding it along—or as far as it could go with Sting standing in his way.

"Well, I don't think your wife would like that very much," the shorter of the two muttered, glaring at the professor and shoving his tray forward. "She's good friends with the drummer—" the corner of his lip pricked upward into a smirk, "—very good friends, and it's been a while since they last saw each other."

Brian's eyebrows crinkled together. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you better come to the show, you know, to keep an eye on her; make sure she doesn't do anything stupid," Sting answered with a taunting wink, grabbing the closest dish in his vicinity and stepping out of line. Brian watched with a suspicious eye as the newcomer crossed over to the register, threw a smile on his face, and greeted the cashier with a friendliness that the professor had yet to see in his colleague. He only realized he'd been staring when the person behind him in line nudged him, alerting him to the gap that formed ahead. The professor shook his head and left the counter with an empty tray—his growing concern about Chrissie's involvement with the drummer in Sting's band—whose identity was quickly figured out—curbing his already nonexistent appetite.

He tossed the tray on an unsteady stack of others and fled from the cafeteria to the headmistress's office, barging in without knocking and snapping Chrissie's head up from her desk. "Is that what last night was all about?" he asked her fervently, throwing the door shut behind him and approaching her desk with an enraged passion.

"What are you—"

"It's him, isn't it?" Brian cut her off, a wicked, delirious smirk twitching at his lips as he watched his wife gawk stupidly at him. "The drummer, in Sting's band, he's the guy—the guy you couldn't be with." The professor slammed his hands atop her desk and leaned over it with a wildness in his eyes that made Chrissie's throat swell in fear. "You knew he was going to be at the show this weekend," he whispered, "and you pulled your little stunt last night because you wanted to pull the wool over my eyes, didn't you?"

The headmistress scoffed. "Brian, I don't know what—"

"I'm not an idiot, Chrissie," he muttered, much of the anger he entered the room with subsiding as he pushed himself away from the desk and began to pace back and forth. He retraced his steps only a few times before taking a seat in front of her, folding his hands in his lap and continuing sullenly, "I know what you want to do, and you know what I want to do, but we're on thin ice, here—one wrong step and we're toast. We can't...It's not..." His eyes met her glistening ones and his bottom lip got tucked behind his front teeth, the professor waiting nervously for her to respond. She seemed speechless, though, sitting across from him with her head hung low and her thumbs passing over one another in her lap. "What are we going to do?" he finally broke the silence, attracting her reluctant gaze.

She sniffled and wiped beneath her eyes, answering, "I don't know if there's anything we can do, Brian. They're both here now, and until this band thing sets off, they're not going anywhere for a while."

For the second time that afternoon, confusion washed over the professor's face. "What? What do you mean 'until this band thing sets off'? What 'band thing' are you talking about?"

Chrissie matched his facial expression. "Didn't Roger tell you?" Her husband shook his head, encouraging her to hesitantly share, "He's in their band, Sting and Stewart's. He's their new guitarist."

The professor's eyes doubled in size, and before Chrissie could say anything more, he leapt out of his seat and darted out of the office. "Brian!" she tried calling after him, getting up herself and stepping out into the hallway. "Brian, where are you going?" she yelled, her question left unanswered as he disappeared down the stairwell.

The headmistress heaved a sigh and tossed her arms up in the air in defeat, turning around and spotting the shyest girl of the notorious friend group standing at the other end of the hallway, her body half-hidden in one of the corridors that jutted out from the one her office was located in. "Miss Tetzlaff?" Chrissie muttered, deepening the scowl that marked the student's face. "What are you doing? Shouldn't you be in class?"

Veronica's teeth ground against each other and her knuckles turned white, the grasp she had on her books tightening before she vanished down the hallway without acknowledging the headmistress's inquiry. Chrissie pressed her lips together before slipping back into her office, shutting the door behind her and locking it this time.