Voyeur

26

Callum

I fucked up. Again.

I’d known it as soon as I’d opened my mouth, but I definitely knew it when she came into class and didn’t look me in the eye. Not because she’d had her head down like she was hurt. No, she held her chin high and looked like she was ready to kick the world’s ass. She sat in her chair, her lips pursed tight and refused to meet my eye. Even when I called on her to speak.

I knew what I’d said was wrong, but I’d lost my ability to rein in my emotions after I’d already been drinking earlier to cope with her working at Voyeur. It scared me as how easy I let the insults fly. I’d questioned how she supported herself from my high horse and it had been wrong. I’d been lucky to never have had to worry about money. Yet there I was, recommending Starbucks. I cringed every time I heard the words in my head.

I’d just never felt so possessive before, so afraid to lose someone. What would I do if she left me? Would I go back to never being intimate again? Would I even want to try without her?

The thought terrified me. Imagining myself back at Voyeur in a room alone watching strangers do things I never could. Imagining myself walking around my big empty house, alone. I couldn’t do it after knowing all that she’d shown me.

Thinking on my feet, I quickly wrote a note on a Post-it and slipped it between the pages of a packet I was about to hand out. I’m sorry. Please forgive me for being an ass. The little yellow slip of paper only allowed for so many words, otherwise I could have written a novel on all the ways I was so sorry. I stood up and began handing out the packets, making sure Oaklyn got the one that held the note. Then, I finished class and hoped for the best. I was too scared to look over at her again to possibly see rejection all over her face.

It was scary enough waiting to see if she would stay or walk out the same way she walked in, completely ignoring my presence and pissed. I couldn’t blame her if she did.

I tried to distract myself with packing up my things as the kids shuffled out the door, too scared to see if she’d already left. I had my answer when only a few people still lingered in the room and I heard, “I’ll see you later. I need to ask Dr. Pierce some questions about the project.”

“Okay, Oak. See you later.”

I watched her friend walk out the door, followed by a few other straggling students and then I finally turned to look at her. She stood there, her whole body filled with tension. Her fists gripping the straps on her book bag, her jaw set in a firm line, her eyes cold.

But I knew—I saw—behind the chilled indifference, was hurt. A hurt I put there. I swallowed hard past the regret. Looking over, I made sure the door was firmly closed. I wished I could lock it and give us some privacy, but that could only lead to issues should someone try to enter.

“I’m so sorry, Oaklyn,” I said, staring her down so she could see the sincerity. “I was wrong. I was an asshole and I was wrong. I had no right to ask you to leave your job to come have dinner with me. I had no right to pass any kind of judgment on what you do. I’m so sorry.”

Her shoulders relaxed enough to ease the tightness in my chest. Her honey eyes warmed up a little more and she softened before my eyes, only showing the hurt, not bothering to hide. It was both better and worse.

“I get it, Cal. I really do. And it’s not like I want to be there. I need to be there, to reach my goals.”

“I know. And I respect you for your determination. I let my jealousy get the best of me. I’m just—” I choked over the words and had to clear my throat before continuing. “I’m worried you’ll find someone better. Without all my issues.”

I almost laughed at the situation I found myself in. An older professor confessing his fears to his student. In theory, I had all the authority, but there she stood, my student, a shining beacon who held my happiness in her hands, with all the power to crush or make me.

She snorted. “I’m more likely to meet a guy at school than at Voyeur.”

“Don’t even get me started on the boys at school and how hard it is to watch them watch you. Even if you do deserve someone your age.”

I hadn’t meant to say the last part, admitting how much me being older than her—at a more settled place in my life than her—scared me, but there it was. Just another fear slipping out to lay at her feet. After a moment, she closed the distance between us and only stood a foot away, looking at me with wonder and awe.