And what’s hilarious about it is that the only intention she had for the weekend was to celebrate that achievement and then prep for this interview. Instead, she’s fake engaged to a guy who is living with her, and lying to all of her friends and family.
Aside from a few shifts at the university library through the end of the semester, her responsibilities are basically down to zero. She supposes she could start on the process of getting her thesis published. It’s pretty solid in its current form, but there’s a major difference between a dissertation, which at the end of the day isn’t much more than a culminating academic exercise, and something consumable on the open market. She’ll probably need some time actually working in her field, to accumulate some case studies and data to prove her theories have real-world applications and can be as effective as she’s theorized, and the first step is nailing this interview today, but afterward? No harm in getting a head start.
Ugh. Leave it to her to give herself homework before anyone else thinks to assign it.
“Bianca?” a voice calls out from the far end of the hall.
Her feet had naturally taken her to the Information Science department, the same space she sat and waited while her panel deliberated her dissertation. God, that feels like years ago, somehow.
Miranda sticks her head out of her office door and beckons her forward.
“What are you doing here?” Bianca asks, but one look at Miranda’s facial expression tells her everything she needs to know.
She never took down that post and even though her advisor isn’t exactly the savviest of social media users, she does follow her.
And now her eyes are flashing down to Bianca’s hand and she sees the ring.
Shit.
Miranda opens her mouth to say something, probably to ask her what the hell is going on, but Bianca cuts off whatever the older woman was going to say. The office, normally bustling with activity during the week, is completely dead. Even though they’re probably alone, she’s not the only super neurotic, borderline obsessive, perpetually early doctoral student on campus. It’s possible someone is within earshot. Crossing the room as fast as she can, Bianca jogs the last few feet, flying into the office and closing the door behind her.
“Since you’re not my student anymore, I feel compelled to say something aboutthat.”
“Miranda,”she pleads, turning back to her advisor. “He’sstill your student.”
She brushes off the concern with a wave of her hand. “I’m not his advisor and the two of you have been circling each other for years and now you’reengaged?”
“That’s not . . . We haven’t . . . General proximity doesn’t mean we’ve been circling each other – besides, it’s not real,” she says, throwing herself immediately on the sword.
“What?” Miranda asks. Bianca’s never seen Miranda look like this. Her mentor is the most unflappable person she’s ever met, always cool in a crisis, always the voice of reason. But right now, her eyes are wide, her mouth is open in shock and she hasn’t blinked for a full ten seconds.
“The engagement. It’s not real. We’re faking it.”
Another ten seconds tick by in silence before her advisor practically shrieks, “Are you insane?”
“Miranda,” she says, warning in her voice, glancing back over her shoulder at the closed door.
“Are youinsane?” Miranda asks again, quieter this time, despite the privacy.
Bianca nods, running a hand through her hair, the ring getting caught in one of her curls. “Possibly. I don’t know. Yeah, maybe I am.” She yanks at it, but her finger stays stuck. “Ow. Fuck.”
Miranda reaches up to carefully pull her hair free. “You’refakingan engagement with Xavier Byrne?”
“It started as a prank, you know, because no one showed up at my party. He walked me home; we were drunk and . . .”
“Did you sleep with him?”
“What? No! We decided to get fake engaged and teach everyone a lesson, and then it just sort of spiraled from there and now my parents are here and they think we’re getting married and I don’t even know what to do. He agreed to keep it up over the summer in exchange for my second bedroom, but . . .”
“Wait, you’relivingtogether?”
“In separate bedrooms,” she emphasizes, as if that makes it better. “He needs a place to stay before he goes to Greece and . . .”
“Bianca, you do realize this is . . . this is . . . I don’t even have a word for what this is.”
“I know, but I don’t see any way to get out of it.”
Other than just coming clean to her friends and family now, but that doesn’t feel like an option. Not yet. She’s still angry. She’s pushing it down and it’s a low simmering rage, but it could boil over at any time, just like it did at the party. She needs to see this through.
