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With a heavy sigh, I shook my head and looked down to tie my shoe. “I can’t, Jackson.”
“Why not?”
Why not?
Callum. That was why. Not even the extra bill for my car repair hanging over my head was enough to outweigh Callum. I couldn’t stop thinking about him and what he thought of me. I couldn’t decide if I was wrong or right to turn down such good money for my teacher, someone who hadn’t said anything about commitment and being serious. It felt serious. God, it felt huge, sinking into my bones, making them feel too big and my skin tight. But maybe it was just me. How did I know if he felt the same?
Here I was turning down good money based on what he may or may not have thought of me. Maybe I was just a student he was enjoying easy access to.
No. I knew that wasn’t it. I knew Callum enough to know he at least felt something. Frankly, I felt enough on my own to not want to perform a sex scene with Jackson. Even if it would have only been pretending.
“I’m . . . .” How did I explain without encouraging more questions? “I’m seeing someone.”
“What?” he asked loudly, moving to sit next to me. “How have I not known? Is it serious? Is it new? Does he know you work here?”
I chuckled at his rapid-fire questions. “Yes, he knows I work here.” I answer the simplest question avoiding the others.
His eyebrows rose. “And?”
“And it just feels wrong now,” I admitted.
“Oaklyn,” he began. I looked up and found pitying eyes. “We need the money. It’s not about the sexual acts. That’s about the bottom line for things.”
“I know.”
“This is why I avoid relationships. I don’t have the financials to give up working here because someone doesn’t like it.”
“You wouldn’t take Jake up on a relationship if he came calling?” I asked with one eyebrow raised, daring him to say he wouldn’t.
“That’s . . . That’s pointless to even think about.” His fists clenched and unclenched before he changed the subject. “So, tell me about this guy.”
“He’s great. Really kind and smart. So freaking hot.” I smiled just thinking about him.
“Where’d you meet?”
The smile dropped just as fast as it came, and I looked away, scrambling for an answer or deflection. “I, um. I can’t say.”
“Oh, come on. Tell me.”
An idea came to mind to get him to stop pushing and I turned, keeping my face neutral to trap him. “Okay.”
“Yes,” he said, making a fist and pulling it into him.
“If you tell me about Jake.”
His victory smile dropped from his face and I openly smirked. “I hate you.”
I cocked an eyebrow and waited for him to begin or give up. I mostly hoped he’d give up.
His shoulders dropped on a heavy sigh. “He was a friend of a friend I got close to in college. We all got drunk and made stupid bets. I ended up having to kiss him and we all laughed, despite the way he kissed me back.” Jackson breathed a laugh and licked his lips, as though he could still taste the kiss. “By the end of the night, he’d stumbled into my room and kissed me again. I blew him and he . . .” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “He kind of freaked out and left. Came around a week later with a girlfriend, and we fell apart.”
“I’m so sorry, Jackson.”
“Now, we see each other and it’s okay. If not filled with a lot of tension. But I’m pushing through it because he’s given me no inclination of anything beyond polite, we-used-to-know-each-other vibes.”
I gripped his hand in mine and squeezed, not needing to say I was sorry again. He knew I was sad for him and it didn’t help anything. “What do you do outside of here? How do I not know?” I asked, changing the subject for him.
“I’m a spy.”
“Fascinating.” I exaggerated the word like I was truly shocked.
He just shook his head with a laugh before turning to me. “Okay. Now tell me where you met this guy.”
I stared at him, weighing my chances of making it to the door and hoping he forgot about it before he saw me again. Probably slim. But this was Jackson. We’d formed a friendship with zero judgement. If there was anyone I could tell, it was him. “He’s my teacher,” I mumbled, but judging by his wide eyes and opened mouth, he heard me just fine.
“Shut. Up.”
“He saw me here,” I said before I thought better of it. Maybe I’d been dying to talk about it and now that Jackson knew, I was able to lift some of these confessions off my chest. “Before he found out I was his student. But even once he found out, he still came. I didn’t know, and we became friends and I just . . . I just liked him too much to stay mad at him for not telling me.
