Free By Jove by Marissa Doyle Page A

in enjoyment. “It can betray us. It can lie.”
    “It can also tell the truth. And words can lie and betray as well as flesh can. There are no guarantees. Hoping is human, remember? So is taking chances. There’s no reason to hope if you don’t.” Her lips moved against the skin of his throat as she spoke, and she felt his hands start to move on her.
    A crash from below, followed by more shrieks of laughter, startled them apart.
    “That didn’t sound good,” Grant said. He let go of her and turned toward the stairs. Theo sighed and followed him.
    In the Great Room a swarm of undergrads, some already draped in bedsheet togas, tugged furniture this way and that. Most of the floor space had been emptied for dancing, but a few of the second-year Latin students who had actually been paying attention in class were trying to arrange the room’s couches into something approximating a Roman triclinium, or dining room, for the refreshments. Grant hurried over to them.
    “No, no, couches only on three sides of the table,” he said, motioning them toward him. “You’ll just have to make a couple of these if more people want to join in.”
    Theo shook her head and smiled as she walked away, but her heart was sore. Just when she and Grant had been getting somewhere, they were interrupted once more. Would she ever have more than a few minutes alone—really alone—with him? It was beginning to feel like some vast conspiracy of the gods against her.
    A pair of toga-ed people ran by her, giggling madly, and then another. The second pair, a plump girl with curly brown hair and a man wrapped in a SpongeBob Squarepants bedsheet, nearly collided with her.
    “Whoa!” the man said. He stopped and peered at her uncertainly. “Why, hello there, Theo. Coming to join us tonight?”
    It was Marlowe Vine. He had occasionally joined her and Grant for drinks in the college pub and had only been asked to leave twice by the manager for excessive rowdiness. But despite his copious drinking Theo couldn’t help liking him; he was unfailingly cheerful and treated her with jovial courtesy. “Nice toga, Marlowe.”
    “Isn’t it? Allie here let me borrow it. It belongs to her little brother, but he manfully gave it up for the weekend. I may need to get my own, though. I think it makes quite a fashion statement.” He swayed and caught himself on the girl’s shoulder. She giggled.
    “You could say that.”
    Marlowe leaned closer. “You don’t look very happy, you know. Where’s Grant?”
    Was she that obvious? But no. It was true she and Grant were frequently together, what with the teaching. She lifted her chin and nodded back toward the couches. “Over there, helping with the banquet room.”
    “Is that what they’re doing? Excellent! A symposium! Something else to look forward to tonight, eh?” He squeezed the girl’s arm and she giggled again.
    “But I thought this was an undergraduate party,” Theo said. “You know, no alcohol?”
    “It is, mostly. And I’m a chaperone, sort of. But we don’t need wine to be joyous, do we? Not much, anyway. Run along and make sure they’re doing it right over there, love.” He gave the girl a gentle push toward Grant and the others, and turned back to Theo.
    “Now, why so sad? I hate seeing sad people around. It’s so—saddening.”
    She smiled in spite of herself. “I’ll be all right. I don’t know how you got the idea I’m down.”
    “Ah, I always know these things. Ask Grant. Life’s not meant for sadness. Tell you what, though. It’s time you and he came to one of the proper symposia. No room for long faces there. I’m sure Julian will be happy to invite you to November’s. In fact, I’m sure he was planning to.”
    “Thanks, Marlowe. That sounds like fun.”
    “Mean that when you say it, sweetheart,” he said in a bad Bogart voice.
    “Mean what?” Grant had come to stand with them.
    “Ho there, friend Grant. I was just telling Theo here that it was time you two