Voyeur (A student/teacher romance) (Voyeur Series)
Voyeur: Chapter 30

OAKLYN

Each day I felt like I couldn’t sink any lower. Each day I was sure the ache would ease a little, making breathing a little easier, make moving less painful like every muscle in my body had given up.

It never did.

Instead, it intensified each day I had to be around him but couldn’t be with him. Because even though Callum and I had decided neither of us could settle, we still saw each other every single day. And it made the pain that much more difficult to beat. That much more difficult to forget.

I missed him. Missed him as my friend. Missed his kisses, his touches. I missed all the future had had for us.

All of it gone. California, gone. The explorations we would have had together—gone.

A week after he’d walked out of Voyeur, I’d tried to force myself back into performing. I’d entered my information to perform a solo performance. I’d simply had to masturbate under the covers. Simple. Nothing hard or very exposing.

With my hand moving under the sheets, not even bothering to actually touch myself, I’d never felt as bad as I had in that moment. Long after the light had flicked to red after the performance, I’d laid in bed and thought about Callum, the weight of his memories holding me down,

crushing me. I’d immediately taken my name off the list of performances and returned to my spot at the bar.

The next day, Jackson had convinced me to do a performance with him. We’d only needed to watch a movie and have dry sex. No kissing. No nudity.

Halfway through, I’d started crying on his shoulder.

He’d held me and moaned louder to hide any sounds I’d made. He’d held me long after the performance was over, telling me he was sorry. He didn’t even need to ask if it was Callum. He’d rubbed my back and told me it would eventually get better. That he’d known from experience it was possible to survive without the one you truly wanted.

I wanted to believe him, but it felt impossible when I watched Callum in classes.

I’d barely taken any notes the past week in class as I watched him, desperately wanting him to look at me, but terrified of what I’d see in his eyes when he did. In the office, he never asked for my help. He always pawned me off on the lab manager or had Donna send me home early.

I hated it. Hated everything about the whole situation.

Hated seeing him look so haggard and know I’d been the cause of it. Hated knowing I’d set him back and that he’d begun losing his control.

Somehow, one night lying in bed, my frustration with my parents grew again. I’d never have had to work at Voyeur if they hadn’t spent my money. Then I wondered if Callum and I would have ever happened. The idea of never having felt Callum’s lips on mine, his body on top of me, inside me.

The idea of never having felt his smile and happiness directed at me, felt unimaginable. My love for him felt destined no matter the circumstances. Did that mean my pain was destined too? Were we always meant to fail?

I shook off the memory as I prepared to walk in to the office. With a deep breath, I pushed the door open, forced a weak smile at Donna and slowly approached Callum’s door.

I always asked if he needed me even though every day he answered with a no, not even looking up from his papers.

Today when I looked in, I almost threw up the pop I had before arriving.

Shannon had her butt perched on his desk, her back to me as she smiled down at him. What was worse was his smile back at her. Sure, it looked forced, not reaching his eyes, but even a forced smile was out of my reach. His eyes flicked to me standing in the doorway, looking at me for the first time in weeks.

The blue was dull, hollow of any shine that used to be there. Dark circles under his eyes made the darkness seem all the more apparent. For the first time in weeks, even with his lips stretched into a smile, I saw my own pain reflected back at me. Just as quickly, he dismissed me, looking back up at Shannon, and I walked away as fast as I could.

I couldn’t watch. The pain was bad enough without the image of him with another woman.

Trying to erase the picture from my mind, I worked harder, turning each beaker and flask to face perfectly straight. Any excuse to hide in the storage room a little longer.

The door opened behind me and I knew, just fucking knew it was him. Maybe it was the pause of his steps when he noticed me in there. Maybe it was the way my body sensed his and came to life just from his energy being close to mine. I didn’t know, but my muscles jerked when the door clicked shut and we were the only ones in the room.

My chest heaved over my rapid breaths, trying to keep up with my frantic heartbeat. The last time we were alone, we’d shattered, and I still hadn’t recovered yet. My hands trembled from the nervous energy coursing through my limbs, so aware of him standing behind me. Off to my left, a glass slid off a shelf and I imagined his strong hands

gripping the equipment and remembering how he’d gripped me.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” His voice was soft, deep, quiet, but it rattled through my body like a scream. “To watch someone that means so much to you be with someone else.”

I whipped around so fast, the end of my ponytail flicked my face. Angry heat flooded my face and a fire that he would hurt me so intentionally burned me from the inside out. “You did it on purpose? To teach me a lesson? Like I don’t know?”

“God no. No, Oaklyn.” He looked me over, alarm contorting his face into a frown. “I don’t want to hurt you,”

he said, stepping closer to me.

His soft confession hit me in my chest. I knew he didn’t want to hurt me. That was how we got there in the first place. I closed my eyes, unable to stare at his beauty without remembering all the reasons I loved him.

Because I still loved him. No amount of pain was taking that away.

Wetness escaped my closed lids despite how hard I tried to hold it back. They turned to full sobs when his thumb came out to swipe at my cheeks. My chest shook, and I leaned into his palm, replaceing a false comfort in his hands on me again. Even if it meant nothing, I’d missed his touch. I missed him so fucking much.

My eyes were still closed when I felt his heat inches from me, when I felt his breath on my wet cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, Oaklyn. So fucking sorry.”

Turning my head, I held his hand to me and kissed his palm. Taking the final step to connect us, I finally opened my eyes and looked up into his. We stood like that, his hand on my cheek, my hand on his, staring at each other, cherishing the small moment of connection even if it was all a lie.

I could have stayed in the room forever if it meant he was by my side.

He leaned down, and I met him halfway, pressing my lips to his. We didn’t go any further, just pressing as close as we could, trying to make it last.

But all too soon, he pulled back and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

Then he walked out, leaving me again crying alone in a room.

I almost missed my phone vibrating in my pocket but pulled it out to see my advisor had sent an email.

MISS DERRINGER,

CONGRATULATIONS! You received the internship with the sports therapy team. Let’s set up a meeting later next week to discuss the details.

DR. Denly

MY FIRST INCLINATION was to run to Callum, to throw myself in his arms and celebrate, but with my hand on the doorknob, I stopped, the truth of our situation hitting me all over again.

I couldn’t help but remember the morning after we’d slept together, when I’d had my interview. I remembered how I’d thought we’d celebrate together. How wrong I’d been. How different it was than anything I’d ever pictured.

Maybe I should have told him my plans, told him I had a light at the end of the tunnel.

However right then, it all felt too late. Like nothing was ever going to make a difference and bring us back

together.

Instead, I pulled up Oliva’s name on my phone and messaged her. I needed to do something to keep me from falling at Callum’s feet and asking him to hang on a little longer.

ME: I got the internship. Can I come over?

Olivia: OMG! That is amazing! Yes, come over and we can celebrate. I have some dranks stashed in my room.

I FINISHED up what I was doing and told Donna I wasn’t feeling well. I couldn’t run the chance of running into Callum again. The shining sun almost mocked my dark mood as I made my way across campus. Spring break was only a couple weeks away, but the nice weather was already starting. Had Callum and I already run our course in three short months?

Olivia opened her door and threw her arms around me.

“Oh, my god. Oh, my god. You did it! I knew you would,”

she squealed rocking us back and forth. Her excited shouts died as fast as they came when she pulled back to see my eyes filling with tears. “Oh, my god. Oaklyn.” She gripped my hands in hers and tugged me into her room. The slam of the door behind us broke the wall holding back my emotions and I crumbled. All the tears I’d been holding back poured out. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I’ve messed up, Oliva,” I said, sitting on the bed next to her.

“Is it Voyeur?” Her back went ramrod straight, ready to go to battle for me. “Did something happen? Do we need to call Uncle Daniel?”

“No. No. Nothing like that.” I wiped at my eyes and took deep breaths, hoping she would forgive me keeping secrets

from her. “I—I have to tell you something.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve um . . . I slicked my tongue across my lips and stared down at my fidgeting fingers. “I’ve been in a sort of relationship with Callum. Dr. Pierce.”

Olivia didn’t speak, and I was too damn scared to look up and see the judgement in her eyes. Hearing it out loud made it seem all the more real, which led to it being all the more painful since it was over. I took a deep breath to help control the panic that grew, taking up too much space, the longer her silence lasted.

“You lucky bitch,” she finally said.

I jerked my head up, my eyes wide. Not at all prepared for that response. “What?”

Her lips tipped up in a smirk. “If you’re looking for a reprimand, it’s not going to come from me. That man is sexy as sin, and if he even showed a little interest, I’d probably have a sexual harassment suit against me.”

A laugh sputtered from between my pinched lips. Of all the things I expected to happen when I showed up, I hadn’t expected to laugh.

“And you’ve been holding out the deets. How dare you.

Now, that, I will give you shit over. When you’re boning one of the hottest teachers on campus, you tell your best friend.”

A barely there laugh escaped. “It’s not exactly a relationship status you can post on Facebook.”

“True,” she said, nodding. “But wait, what happened?

Why are you here crying?”

“We broke up.”

“Sweetie,” she said, pulling me into her arms. “I’m so sorry.”

Burying my head in her shoulder, I got the rest of it off my chest. “He knew I worked at Voyeur.”

Her rubbing hands stopped on my back. “How?”

“He, uh . . . he went there.” Olivia gasped and tried to pull back, but I held her close, not ready to face her yet.

“You can’t tell anyone. I’m breaking the NDA even talking about it.”

“I would never.” Her stroking hands continued again, and I pushed on.

“He couldn’t handle it. He was jealous and tried to hide it, but it became too much. Eventually, he offered to pay for the rest of my school, so I could quit Voyeur, and I just couldn’t.” I pulled back from her shoulder and waved my hands animatedly. Mad all over again over the situation.

“He said, that I was being stubborn for not letting him pay.

That he already paid for my time, so why not just let him pay for my school and eliminate the issue of Voyeur all together.”

“Well, why not?”

My eyes shot to hers, completely unprepared for her response. She, more than anyone, should know why I wouldn’t take money from someone. “What?”

“I mean, it’s not a loan, so it’s not like you’d have to pay it back. It’s like he’s paying for your time up-front.”

“So, I can be his whore. He’d be paying me to perform just for him.”

“You wouldn’t be his whore, Oaklyn,” she said exasperated. “And I mean, it’s not like you don’t perform for him anyway. With him paying for school you could continue to perform just for him,” she suggested, her eyebrows bobbing, “and not have the weight of Voyeur hanging over your heads. I honestly don’t see how it could go wrong. You’re tired all the time from working your ass off, I’d get to see you more, you’d be less stressed trying to replace time to study. All of these sound like pros.”

I didn’t even know what to say. My jaw hung open, and I blinked over and over, trying to replace the situation. How could Olivia take his side? “You know why I can’t take money from people. Money ruins relationships.”

“Listen, Oaklyn. You know I love you and that’s why I’m going to be honest with you. You say having him pay for your school would ruin your relationship,” she hesitated, looking concerned for how I was taking her honesty. “But it seems like it’s ruined anyways.”

My mouth opened and closed like a fish, unable to form words.

“Olivia, I—” I didn’t know what to say. It felt wrong. “I can’t let my professor pay for my schooling.”

“But it wouldn’t be your professor paying for school. It would be your boyfriend taking care of his girlfriend.”

“It’s not the same,” I fought.

“It is.”

“It doesn’t feel the same.”

She looked at me with sad eyes. Pitying me.

And I hated admitting it, but putting myself in her shoes, I’d look the same damn way at me. I was being stubborn. I had one thought and I couldn’t see past it. I was so determined to make it on my own, that I’d shot myself in the foot to get there.

“Olivia, I fucked up,” I said, repeating the same words when she opened the door, and began crying all over again.

She held me in her arms, rocking me back and forth, telling me it would be okay. Telling me I’d replace a way to fix it.

“How? How do I go back to him after hurting him so much? How do I fix this? What if his offer doesn’t stand?

What if he doesn’t want me anymore?”

“Oaklyn,” she breathed a laugh. “I highly doubt he put his career on the line to be with you to change his mind so quickly.”

“But I hurt him.” And he’d been hurt so much before. It made me sick to think I added to it.

“If you make it work, I’m sure you will again. And again.

I’m sure he’ll hurt you at some point. People tend to call

that a working, loving relationship,” she said, nodding her head sagely.

Somehow, she made me laugh again. Not much, but it was better than the ache I’d walked in with.

“But, dude,” she said excitedly, shaking my shoulders.

“You got the fucking internship.”

“Yeah. I guess I did,” I agreed with a small smile.

“Let’s celebrate.” She crawled off the bed and dug underneath, unearthing a bottle of vodka and cranberry juice. She poured us each a drink and we sat back on her bed getting comfortable to watch a rom-com.

Between laughing and getting drunk, I came up with a plan. I wasn’t sure if I could go to Callum and take him up on his offer, but I had other options that I could come to him with to at least try and repair the damage I created because of my pride.

Callum

“IS THIS THE RIGHT KNOB, Dr. Pierce?” Andrea asked. We’d been out under the stars for thirty minutes, but with her flirty voice and constant batting eyelashes, it felt like it was thirty hours.

“I can help you if you need me to,” Kenneth offered as he stared at her ass.

My head pounded as I readjusted the telescope again back to where it needed to be. “Just don’t touch it this time, okay?” I was barely holding back my exasperation with the situation.

“But what if I want to touch it?” she asked, trying to portray innocence.

“I’d let you touch it,” Kenneth chimed in.

Breathe in for five seconds. Breathe out for five. In for five. Out for five.

“Let’s just replace your star and write the description,” I said with a forced smile.

I hadn’t had a drink in two days. I thought maybe if I could limit my drinking and still keep a tight rein on my emotions, I could go back to Oaklyn a better man. Instead, over the past two days, I’d been on edge. Snapping at everyone. Poor Donna just gave me looks that said I could be pissy all I wanted, but I better stop taking it out on her.

It wasn’t fair to anyone around.

Maybe I was being just as stubborn as Oaklyn in thinking that I could somehow numb myself to these emotions, even without alcohol, and that would make everything better.

Earlier in the stock room had proved how futile that thought was. I knew she was in there alone, and I went anyway. A glutton for punishment, knowing nothing good would come of it. I’d still been a selfish bastard and kissed her. I just hated seeing her so hurt. Needed to kiss her pain away, tell her how sorry I was again.

Each day in class she walked in like a zombie, looking as bad as I felt. I hated it. Hated every single thing about all of this. Mostly, I hated how weak I felt. Like I was putting us through this because I was a weak, damaged man. You’d think it would push me to do something about it, but it all felt like a waste. I thought I had done something about it before, and yet there I stood in the middle of a park with two of my students, trying to not just pack up and tell them to stop wasting my time, so I could go home and return to drinking myself to death.

It wasn’t me. I loved teaching. I loved this project and seeing the students’ awe at seeing the stars in a way they never had.

I’d lost that version of myself somewhere in the past few months. Instead, I tapped my thumb on my thigh, impatient for Andrea to finish scribbling some note in her book so we could get the fuck out of here, and I could go home to drink.

“Done!” she proclaimed victoriously.

“Fantastic,” I said, already breaking down the telescope.

“You guys can go ahead and leave, and I’ll get this all packed up.”

“Do you need any help, Dr. Pierce?” Andrea said, kneeling down too close beside me to grab a part.

“No,” I snapped, causing her to snatch her hand back like I’d slapped it. “No,” I repeated, gentler this time.

“Thank you, but I have everything. It’s late. Go ahead and head home.”

As soon as I got everything in my car, I raced home. I left the case in the car and opened my door, tossing the keys to the table and shrugging off my coat, letting it lie on the floor.

Grabbing a glass, I went to the kitchen to snag the extra bottle of liquor in the top cabinet, having drank everything from my wet bar already. I filled half the glass and drank it in two swallows. I filled it again and thought about Oaklyn.

I thought about how soft her lips had felt on mine. How golden her eyes looked when they were glossed over with tears.

I drank the contents of the glass and refilled it.

I thought about how her cheek pressed into my palm, searching for comfort I didn’t know how to give anymore.

I drank again. And refilled again.

I thought about how her cries had echoed off the glass in the stock room, all of it bouncing back to pierce my heart all over again.

I drank again but halted when I went to tip the bottle and fill my glass.

Blood pounded in my ears. My fist gripped the neck of the bottle too tightly. A fire that burned in my stomach rose to my chest, making my lungs singe like they were on fire.

Twelve years after therapy. Twelve years after breathing exercises, making myself feel like I was in control of my emotions. Twelve years of feeling like I was finally in control of my actions, burned to the ground, taking me with it.

And not just me. Oaklyn too.

A growl started in the depths of my soul and worked its way up my chest. It came out a rage-filled scream, and I unleashed. I tossed the bottle into the kitchen sink, and to release some of the tension pulling my muscles too tight, I threw the tumbler at the wall, the piercing sound of shattering glass raining down on my hardwood floor finally broke me out of my stupor.

“Fuck,” I shouted, digging my hands into my hair and tugging. “Fuck.”

Over and over it was all I could think. I was so fucked.

This whole situation was fucked. I looked over at the glass on the floor and everything drained from me. I should have cleaned it up. I should have cared. But I didn’t.

I turned away from it and headed upstairs to hopefully pass out and not dream of Oaklyn and what a mess my life was falling back into.