Free The Weight of Words (The WORDS Series) by Georgina Guthrie

defend Daniel. Here I’d come to the party to get away from thoughts of him, but apparently there was no escape.
    “I don’t know; I think he’s doing okay. It’s probably his first time at this. He’s trying to maintain a distance. It would be hard being a TA when you’re so close in age to the students, don’t you think?”
    “Man, you’re the last person I figured would stick up for him,” he said. “Things got a little tense with you two today. Anyway, I don’t care what you say. I still think he’s an ass.”
    I shrugged and we both moved on, dancing, mingling, and stopping to chat with people here and there. By midnight, I was ready to bail. The witching hour was approaching. As everyone got drunker, the potential for projectile hurling would increase exponentially. I found Matt hanging with his friend Dustin and let him know I was leaving.
    “Want me to walk you back?” he asked.
    “No, I’ll be fine,” I assured him.
    “Can you text me when you get home? If I don’t hear from you in fifteen minutes, I’ll send out a search party.”
    “You’ll send one? You won’t join it?” I asked playfully.
    “Hey, the fun’s about to start here,” he said, looking around the room. “I don’t want to miss anything!”
    I laughed and punched his chest.
    “I mean it, though, Aub. Text me,” he repeated with a look of total seriousness.
    “I will. See you tomorrow.”
    “I’ll try not to wake you when I get home,” he promised as he leaned over to kiss me on the cheek.
    Yeah, I was totally missing the boat on this one. How I wished I wanted Matt sometimes. Life would be so much easier.

    I actually felt something akin to cheerfulness as I crossed the quad on Monday morning, ready to tackle my three-hour shift. I had my school work well in hand, and I’d even taken some proactive steps to resuscitate my floundering social life. To top it off, I had a concert date with Julie to look forward to.
    As I was arriving at the office, Dean Grant was pulling on his overcoat and making his way out.
    “Good morning, Aubrey,” he said. “I’ll be back in an hour or so. I’m heading over to Wymilwood to grab a coffee with my son. You know, Daniel—the one who graced us with his ill-humor last Monday?”
    “Yes, right, I remember,” I said, cringing at my lie by omission. I didn’t relish the idea of having to keep my in-class relationship with his son a secret, but I’d made a promise to Daniel and intended to keep it. I’d also promised myself not to continue obsessing about Daniel, but that didn’t stop me from spending a good ten minutes mulling over why hadn’t come to the office to visit his father as he had the previous week. Was he actively avoiding me?
    I brought a decisive halt to my musings, renewing my vow to stop dissecting his every move, and spent the rest of my shift entirely focused on work. I even went as far as to arrive at my Shakespeare lecture early to secure two seats on the side of the classroom closest to the door. When Julie arrived, she frowned as she sat down, pouting theatrically. She wanted to stare at Mr. Shmexy.
    “Sorry, Julie. I can’t sit over there. It’s hard to think straight,” I whispered.
    “You’re telling me,” she said, chuckling under her breath.
    “I’m not talking about how gorgeous he is,” I hissed. “I’m talking about his moodiness. He was so weird on Friday. I don’t know what I’ve done to tick him off.”
    She tried to placate me by telling me she was sure Daniel’s attitude wasn’t personal. According to Julie, some men were wholly incapable of coping with smart women. In her opinion, Daniel found my intelligence threatening.
    I shook my head and shrugged, trying to seem indifferent. I avoided sneaking looks at him for the entire class and felt damn near euphoric at the end of the lecture when I realized I’d successfully steered clear of making eye contact with him.
    On Tuesday, I congratulated myself for managing to keep