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Would Dad or Randy fire him if they found out? A pitiful sound chuffs out of my throat. I’m pretty sure I know the answer to that, even though I’d hate to think my family would do that to someone. I’m property that they don’t care about, but refuse to relinquish control over.
While I’m convinced Pete was more worried about my safety than his own, I think his chivalry is misplaced. I’m not safe for him. I’m dead weight that would only drag him down. I’d lose whatever luster he sees in me once he got one glimpse of what my life is really like.
Pulling out of the driveway, I start for home. Why is this so difficult? And how stupid was I to snag on to a dream?
People fall in love every day—that’s what I thought. That’s how I ended up with my stupid plan. Why did I think I had the right to do the same?
I’m barely gay, if I’m living in a shadow that even the darkness doesn’t see. It doesn’t seem fair that being gay comes with an entire set of hurdles that straight people don’t have to contend with. It’s difficult enough worrying about being accepted by the people in my life, but I just realized you also have to worry if the person you care about will be accepted, too. If you’ll be accepted together. And if there will be anything left if you dare to try.
Maybe I’m just a coward. As my eyes blur at a stop sign, I know it’s the truth, although I try to reassure myself that my tears are over the noble reason of not wanting to disappoint Pete. I am a coward because, as much as I want to, I will never look at him again. What’s the point if I don’t have the courage to do what it takes to keep him?
CHAPTER 15
Cameron
Picking at the remains of my muffin, I brush a crumb off my slacks as I sit at my desk. I’m never eating in the cafeteria again. It’s one of the self-decreed rules on my new list of work habits. If I go to the cafeteria, I could run into Pete. Desk muffins for me, it is.
On the plus side, I assured Heather that I could man the phones during my break to let her run some errands or take a longer lunch without anyone being any the wiser. What Randy and my dad want to take away from people, I can at least try to counteract in my own secret way. It’s a small victory, but it’s a boost I need today in my self-pity.
I think I need to leave Fairway Foods. There’s got to be some way I can accept a different job offer without Dad or Mom guilting me into staying here. Even if Pete didn’t work here, I don’t think I could stand this being my life’s profession. Honestly, he’s been the only thing making me want to come to work these past few weeks. Now that I’ve determined to strike him from my thoughts, life here is much more depressing.
I don’t want to witness Randy and Dad’s treachery. I don’t want to watch their workers getting slighted. I don’t want to see people’s suspicious gazes on me or be ignored in elevators anymore. If I can’t even try to go for the guy I want, I should at least try to have a job that I’m remotely comfortable with. That’s not asking too much. Is it?
“I’m so glad I caught you,” Heather’s voice addresses someone out in the hallway.
I stuff my half-eaten muffin back in its sandwich bag and toss my napkin into the trash can underneath my desk. It’s a minor effort to look professional in case she brings someone into our office.
“I’m so sorry about your leave raffle being denied. I don’t understand why Randy didn’t approve it. I know you did it last year, and I thought it was a really sweet gesture,” she says, her baby belly preceding her when she enters the doorway.
Oh, God. It’s Pete. She’s talking to Pete. I don’t even have to see more than his hand as it comes into view from where he’s following behind her. I know that hand intimately.
Directing my gaze to my keyboard, I pretend to type, ghosting the keys with my fingertips to make just enough noise that it sounds like I’m doing something. My throat thickens when he enters the room. I don’t have to see him to know he’s inside. I sense his presence the way I always sense it. I can feel his heat. I can smell his Pete scent. My sphincter clenches around nothing, like it’s mourning the loss of the plug I swore not to tempt myself with this morning. My heart squeezes knowing that the comforting sensation of him being near has to be denied.
“Hey, Cameron,” Heather calls.
“Hey,” I murmur, working my fingers faster over the keyboard.
“Did you finish your lunch already? Don’t tell me all you ate was another one of those muffins that you bring in?”
“Yeah. I…I’m full, though. It’s fine,” I let out with a nervous laugh.
I’m not full. I’m so empty it hurts every fiber in my body as I listen to her tell Pete to give her a minute to find a document that she needs him to sign. He’s stopped next to my cubicle. Why did he have to stop there? This is torture.
The phone rings, saving me. Good. A distraction. Except, it’s a potential new hire that Heather has been trying to connect with all week.
“Um, Heather? It’s that candidate for the supply manager position on line one. Do you want me to put them on hold?”
“Oh! No way. I need to get an interview date out of him before Ran—before management has a conniption,” she corrects herself. “This should just take a second, Pete. I’m sorry.”
Shit.
Seconds feel like they turn into agonizing minutes. This is so awkward. Not looking at him feels rude. Is it rude?
What if it makes him think that I’m mad at him about yesterday’s… gift? What if he thinks I’m pouting over being warned to avoid him? Worse yet, what if he thinks I don’t want what he offered? Would he feel rejected? I want to do the right thing, but I also don’t want to hurt his feelings.
Resting his elbow on my cubicle wall, I catch him tapping his wrists together. It’s a peculiar movement, almost like an anxious tick, and I wonder if it has something to do with his OCD. Heaven help me if I’ve made him uncomfortable. He doesn’t deserve that after all he’s done for me.
Slowly, my gaze travels up the rest of his impeccable gray suit jacket. Just a glimpse, I tell myself. Just a glimpse to make sure he’s okay. My vision, however, collides with the intense brown eyes looking down at me like they were waiting to see mine. They might as well be hot coals, searing me all the way down to the cushion of my seat.
