Juliana pulled her hand away from his the moment she realized what he was doing. She moved to take another step back, but she hadn't had much room to begin with and her shin bumped up against the edge of the sofa's seat. Trapped, again, the way she had been in the kitchen the last time when he'd been advancing towards her and trying to trick her into kissing him.
"You don't have to fix it," she insisted, pulling her hands up as she tried to decide what to do with them. She felt like she needed to do something, because he had just reached for her hand and he might do it again and she wanted to deter him, but she didn't have much space to move and her dress didn't have pockets. She could have just shoved them behind her back, but that would have looked silly, and made it obvious that she was putting a good deal of energy into avoiding touching him, which she didn't want him to catch on to.
She'd said he didn't have to fix it, but it might have been more accurate to say you don't get to fix it. Juliana fixed her own life. She was exceptionally capable of doing so — in the weeks since they'd last spoken she had coldly destroyed yet another unsuspecting citizen and now, she imagined, no one would so much as remember her name when it came to society gossip. She'd fixed that, and she'd found a way to publish her research, and she could do all of this herself. She did not need a man to swoop in and save her. She didn't need him to be the voice of reason when she was wrestling with inappropriate emotional responses to imagined slights.
Besides, even if she'd wanted help, she couldn't have asked for help from him. That would have meant explaining everything that she'd been thinking, leading up to her decision to come here today, and it would mean explaining what she had been thinking and feeling during today, and she couldn't even begin to fathom sharing those things with him.
She wanted to move away from him, but there was nowhere to go. She started to reach towards him with one hand, to push him out of the way like she'd done the last time she'd been in this situation, but she realized that would require her to touch him and she didn't feel up to the task. She pulled her hand back and left it in the air at her side. Her cheeks flushed. "Can you let me past, please?"
Jules
"You don't have to fix it," she insisted, pulling her hands up as she tried to decide what to do with them. She felt like she needed to do something, because he had just reached for her hand and he might do it again and she wanted to deter him, but she didn't have much space to move and her dress didn't have pockets. She could have just shoved them behind her back, but that would have looked silly, and made it obvious that she was putting a good deal of energy into avoiding touching him, which she didn't want him to catch on to.
She'd said he didn't have to fix it, but it might have been more accurate to say you don't get to fix it. Juliana fixed her own life. She was exceptionally capable of doing so — in the weeks since they'd last spoken she had coldly destroyed yet another unsuspecting citizen and now, she imagined, no one would so much as remember her name when it came to society gossip. She'd fixed that, and she'd found a way to publish her research, and she could do all of this herself. She did not need a man to swoop in and save her. She didn't need him to be the voice of reason when she was wrestling with inappropriate emotional responses to imagined slights.
Besides, even if she'd wanted help, she couldn't have asked for help from him. That would have meant explaining everything that she'd been thinking, leading up to her decision to come here today, and it would mean explaining what she had been thinking and feeling during today, and she couldn't even begin to fathom sharing those things with him.
She wanted to move away from him, but there was nowhere to go. She started to reach towards him with one hand, to push him out of the way like she'd done the last time she'd been in this situation, but she realized that would require her to touch him and she didn't feel up to the task. She pulled her hand back and left it in the air at her side. Her cheeks flushed. "Can you let me past, please?"
Prof. Marlowe Forfang
Jules