Cambridge and Oxford

7

The charity gala was winding down after Tom’s rousing speech had turned the tide on a disastrous event. As guests mingled appreciatively, Tom suddenly appeared at my side, extending his palm.

“Might I have the pleasure of a dance before we must return to clean-up duties?” He gave a slight bow, eyes twinkling playfully.

I blinked, surprised by the request and Tom’s courtly gesture. “Oh...um, if you insist I suppose...” I stammered, setting my glass aside. As we moved awkwardly together among the remaining swaying couples, I stepped on Tom’s shoes more than once.

“Terribly sorry,” I muttered after the third stumble. “Dancing in heels while organizing things has my coordination off...”

“No matter,” Tom responded smoothly as he adjusted his hold to provide firmer guidance. “I would think dancing was quite customary among you Cambridge socialites.”

I gave a short, embarrassed laugh. “Oh yes, party animals us bookworm Cantabs...” I fudged, hoping Tom wouldn’t see through the vague bravado disguising memories of spending most nights in the laboratory rather than dance halls.

To my relief, Simon interrupted before Tom could question my too-emphatic extracurricular claims. “Spectacular event you two!” He pumped Tom’s hand enthusiastically. “Tom, that impromptu speech was masterful! Have you considered moving into a Director role someday with such natural leadership abilities?”

I tensed, unsettled at the prospect of smug Tom becoming my boss after tonight’s plaudits. As Simon wandered off networking, Tom turned speculatively towards me. “Did you really attend parties at Cambridge? With those moves, you couldn't have shed your high school bookworm image, could you?”

I forced a neutral smile. “Who said that? I was quite popular at Cambridge,” I fibbed brightly before making my exit, uneasy at Tom’s amused expression seeing through my thin excuse.

Once home, I paced my flat distractedly. The idea of Tom leveraging his event success into a management role establishing him as my superior was unacceptable. I would need to demonstrate similar leadership potential immediately lest Tom’s Head Director ambitions crystallize before I could counter tactically.

My restless strategizing resulted in logging long hours over the subsequent weeks developing proposals for an expanded community outreach initiative. I subsisted on strong coffee to power late nights fine-tuning my presentation. If I could receive the Board’s approval on significant programming growth, the accomplishment might neutralize Tom’s gala glory.

The evening my plan’s fate would be decided, I stayed behind feverishly memorizing talking points until the moon was high outside my dark office window. Finally satisfied, I gathered my things to head out when a blinking light near the elevators caught my eye. Peering closer, I realized it was a bike headlamp bobbing patiently next to Tom casually checking his watch while reclining along his bicycle.

I slowed, surprised by his lingering presence so late. Tom looked up and waved me over. “I had a feeling your meticulous preparation would demand burning the midnight oil. Shall I provide you a lift home?”

I hesitated briefly then smiled politely. “That would be lovely, thank you.” The latent tension from Tom’s directorship comments and my stealth career maneuvering to undermine his aspirations hovered unspoken. But the serene free-wheeling ride under streetlights and stars seemed to lift us temporarily from unresolved post-gala ambiguities into more fondly nostalgic territory recalling simpler times.

Coasting to my building afterwards, Tom broke the comfortable silence. “You know, you Cantabs may thrive on self-driven initiative fueled by caffeine. But we Oxonians also understand knowing when to stop spinning your wheels it’s time to catch a breath of fresh perspective.” His smile held only warmth.

Dismounting by my door, I returned Tom’s smile sincerely. “I admit your balanced guidance provides appreciated insight I can forget when overly focused.” Glancing upwards, I added playfully, “Though the view was rather breathtaking as well tonight.”

With a thoughtful tilt of his head, Tom chuckled. “Don't put too much pressure on yourself. Honestly, I have no interest in leading, even if Oxford always emphasizes leadership.” Bidding me goodnight, Tom pedaled off into the darkness.