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“Shut. Up,” he said again.
“You sound like a Valley girl.” He flipped his imaginary hair and we laughed, but then he just stared. “Okay. Bring on the lecture about all I’m doing wrong and how wrong all of it is.”
His shoulder lifted on a shrug, and he pretended to zip his lips shut. However, he broke the seal when he said, “Just be careful.”
I wanted to say I was, but deep down, I knew I wasn’t.
Being careful wouldn’t be seeing your professor. Wouldn’t be fooling around in his office. I opened my mouth to lie anyways when Charlotte walked in.
“Oaklyn!” She said my name with an exaggerated smile and I knew she wanted something.
“Yes, Charlotte?”
“Would you possibly, maybe, kind of want to hopefully cover my last three hours at the bar? My boyfriend is landing in town early and I was hoping to meet him at the airport.”
“You have a boyfriend?” Jackson asked, shocked.
“Not all of us have a phobia of relationships.”
“It’s not a phobia.”
I cut in before their banter could pick up any more than it already was. “Sure, Charlotte. I got to make up that money somehow.”
“Thank you, thank you!” She came over and gave me a hug. “I’ll be leaving here in fifteen. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll just rest my feet back here for a bit and meet you out there.”
She rounded the corner and Jackson excused himself too. He had a client waiting. Just as I was alone, my phone rang next to me.
“Hey, Cal.”
“Come have dinner with me,” he said first thing. “I went to the grocery store and I want to make something for you.”
It sounded so nice and if he would have called ten minutes ago, my answer may have been different. “I can’t. I’m sorry because I really want to.”
“Why not?”
I paused weighing my options of possibly lying, but I didn’t want to lie to him. “I’m working.”
“Oh,” he said before a long pause. “Are you almost done?”
“No, I still have a few more hours.”
“Call off,” he suggested, hope making his tone lighter.
“Cal, I can’t. I need the money if I want to eat and still make the tuition payment.”
Heat flooded my cheeks, embarrassed to admit how much I was struggling with money to someone so much more sophisticated than me.
“Okay,” he said, his voice lacking all emotion.
“Please don’t make me feel bad about this.”
“Listen, Oaklyn. I try not to think about you working there, but it ends up being all I think about. I care about you. More than I should, and I’m just possessive. I don’t know how to handle it because all I can think about is how I don’t want you working there anymore. I don’t want anyone else getting a part of you.”
His words created a slew of emotions in me. Excitement that he felt that way about me. That he thought about me as much as he admitted. However, there was also this sinking in my stomach and irritation pumping my blood harder. Especially when his words—that should have been sweet and soft—came out mixed with his own irritation. Did that mean he didn’t want to feel those things about me? That he was bothered by them?
“I get it, Cal,” I said, trying to be understanding. “This isn’t some chosen career I’m dying to do. I need the money, and this is my best option.”
“Most college students tend to work at coffee shops for money,” he muttered.
I ground my teeth, holding my biting retort back, not wanting to argue. I kept my tone low and tried for a calm I didn’t feel. “That’s not fair and you know it.”
There was a long pause, and I began to wonder if he’d hung up.
“I know it’s not, but it doesn’t make it easier that you’re there.”
“Well, I’m sorry I need more than minimum wage and the minimal assistance from both my student aide jobs. I’m sorry my life isn’t easy for you,” I snapped, losing the battle for calm. “It’s not easy for me either.”
“I just wished you worked somewhere other than Voyeur where weird men couldn’t stare at you getting fucked.”
“That’s pretty interesting coming from the person who has been a member for however long.”
“That’s different.”
“No, it’s not.”
The phone call was getting out of control and our words seemed to toe the line of pushing too far. Thankfully, I was saved from another response when Charlotte rounded the corner.
“Listen, I have to go.”
“Oaklyn.”
“What, Dr. Pierce?”
He grunted as though calling him that had been a physical blow through the phone. “I’m sorry.”
“Okay.”
I hung up before he could respond. I didn’t say anything to Charlotte as I passed by, unable to work anything past the lump in my throat.
Maybe the next three hours without talking would allow us both to calm down. I could hope. I had just got Callum, and I wasn’t ready for a stupid argument to end it already.
