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And then he left. When I walked out of the room, he was already gone. I spent the rest of the night serving drinks and trying to process Cal’s words.
Between that and the issues with my car, I was emotionally done by the end of the night. I tossed everything on the floor when I walked into my apartment, stripped down and collapsed on my bed, laughing at how it would have driven Cal nuts to see everything strewn about.
Even after the mess that tonight was, he was the last thing on my mind before I finally fell asleep. I worried if he was okay and had drank enough water. I worried how he would feel tomorrow.
And I worried I’d never really find out what made him drink and come to Voyeur.
24
Callum
Once the pounding in my head stopped Saturday morning, I grabbed my phone and messaged Oaklyn, worried she’d be too mad for a phone call. Not that I blamed her.
Me: I’m sorry about last night. I was wrong.
Almost immediately the bouncing dots appeared.
O: You were wrong.
O: But I’d be willing to let it slide if you explain to me why it happened.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I didn’t want to explain to her that I lost control of my emotions. That I tried to numb myself with alcohol. So, I gave her a half-truth and hope it was enough for her forgiveness.
Me: I just started drinking last night and didn’t realize how many I had. When I found your panties in my pocket, I remember thinking how I wanted to return them to you. How much I wanted to see you.
O: Okay. As much as I would’ve loved my panties back, I could’ve done without the insults.
Me: Fuck. I’m sorry, O. I can’t say it enough. I saw you with Jackson and I just
I swallowed hard, taking a moment to think over my words, deciding to just be honest with her.
Me: I just let my jealousy control me. I didn’t even think.
The dots floated for a while and each time they bounced, my chest squeezed tighter and tighter, preparing myself for what she could be typing.
O: Okay.
Me: Okay? Does that mean you forgive me?
O: Yes. I just need time to think about it. I just need to process everything.
Me: Okay. I understand.
O: I have to go. I have a star paper to work on and it’s taking all my time.
Me: What horrible person would make you write a paper on a star?
O: A real asshole. A nerdy one.
Me: Sounds amazing to me.
O: Ha. Ha. I’ll call you later. ?
I was irrationally happy with a smiley face at the end of her message. Her sarcastic messages also lifted a weight off my chest.
Oaklyn had given me so much patience. More than I’d ever expected from someone just starting out on their future. And I went and shoved it back in her face, by acting like a jealous, unappreciative dick. The least I could do was give her some in return.
I’d been with women before and some had been more understanding than others. Some had been easier to distract than others. Some hadn’t bothered to stick around when I pushed them away on the first date. And maybe the ones who had been more patient would have given me more if I’d explained, but not one had ever evoked the need to.
Not once, when faced with them leaving, had I considered sharing my secret. Not one had seemed important enough to fight for. Until Oaklyn. When she’d told me to leave or explain that night, it was like my muscles had seized up and refused to move from the spot. There was something about her that called to me, that begged me to stay and not give up. That shouted at me that she was the one. So, I’d decided and never regretted my decision at any moment.
We’d become closer, but still stayed the same. Laughter still filled our conversations, but now there were openly heated glances between us that usually ended up with kissing when we could. I couldn’t get enough of her.
With a smile on my face, and hope I hadn’t fucked everything up, I showered and went to my office to catch up on some work. At times my mind would wander to the previous night, but I tried to push it from my mind.
Each time Voyeur would creep into my thoughts, it led to whole new string of emotions I didn’t want. Instead of my chest expanding, it caved in and made it hard to breathe. My skin burned, but not with desire. My heart thumped in my chest and my breaths came a little faster, but not because I was turned on.
No, if I gave in to those emotions, it would be a repeat of last night.
I’d worked hard over the years to get a grip on the control I’d lost. After all the court cases had been finished and sealed shut, everyone else was able to move on. Yet, I was left spiraling. Fifteen and sixteen had been scary years for me as I learned how alcohol could make me forget, how pot would make the pain easier. How taking my anger out on someone else lessened the pinch in my chest. I’d crashed and burned until my parents had had enough and pushed me back into therapy where I spent the next two years gaining control.
