By the time I came down from the high, I was too languid to really care that there was a vein pulsing in his temple, and that his cheeks were hollowed from containing his rage.
I stared at him with sleepy eyes, unsure why the sight of him had triggered my orgasm and to be honest, uncaring too. And he stared back.
For endless moments, we didn’t say a word, just looked at one another.
It was, bizarrely enough, one of the most intimate moments of my life.
My throat felt tight with the need to ask a thousand questions. Like why was he doing this? Why was he putting me through this? And why, even though he’d made this about sex and I wasn’t about to complain about his stance, hadn’t he once suggested that I do anything to him?
Why was it all about me?
The thought had me biting my lip.
“I’ll be at the cafe in the morning,” he said, eventually. I cast a look at the call length and saw that we’d been sitting, staring at one another for twelve minutes.
Twelve minutes of silence.
“Okay,” I rasped.
“Don’t wear any panties. I want you bare from now on.”
I gulped—from now on? My voice was strangled as I got out, “I won’t. G-Good night.”
He hesitated a second, then his mouth pursed before he curtly said, “Night.”
The second he disconnected the call, I placed my cell on the bedside table again and slumped back onto the too thin pillow I’d had for way too many years for it to be hygienic.
Hygiene wasn’t always easy when you lived hand to mouth.
Did I want new bedding? Yes. Did I have the money to spend on it? Nope.
Of course, that had changed now, and once again, that urge to splurge hit me, as did the knowledge that once I bought anything that wasn’t important, vital for my lifestyle, the guilt that attacked me would sour any joy I found in having new things.
Plus, it would let my mother know I had money, and where she was concerned, what was mine was hers and what was hers was hers.
It was beyond unfair and had been one of the major reasons I’d wanted to move out. Then she’d gotten pregnant, pretty much to spite me, I felt sure, and I’d been left caring for Scottie.
I’d even named him.
The second she’d popped him out, she hadn’t even given that much of a damn to call him anything other than son.
God, the hate inside me for her was so overpowering some days. Others, I just felt shame, and then there was rage and annoyance.
I could attribute no positive emotion to my mother, and yes, that was sad, but I’d moved past that point.
I’d consider it a boon if Scottie and I never saw her again.
That thought had me closing my legs and curling onto my side.
A girl could dream, couldn’t she?
I huffed, because dreams weren’t for people like me. I’d already attained more than I’d ever imagined by getting into an Ivy League school, but even there, I was drowning in the weight of my studies, struggling to keep up. That dreams weren’t for everyone was cemented home when at three AM, the hospital rang.
Mrs. Linden had passed away and the only family I had who loved me back, aside from Scottie, was gone forever.
❖
The next morning, my eyes were red from crying and I knew I looked like one big, tear-swollen mess.
I didn’t have much makeup, but I tried to blot it over my cheeks and ended up making things worse. After rubbing it off, I decided to just go to work looking splotchy.
So what if Professor Maclean was there?
Did I really give a shit if he thought I was uglier than usual?
Maybe he’d ask, maybe he’d learn why I wasn’t the monster he seemed to think I was, but I doubted it.
He wanted to see me in his own particular way, and it didn’t matter if I fell outside the bounds of that opinion.
When I headed into work, the place was empty except for Jose, the guy whose shift I was relieving, and someone in the corner.
Was that him?
I’d never really noticed before because the cafe was usually busy, and even though my job could have been easy, this was the quietest shift, so Lorenzo had me dashing in and out of the kitchen, getting things prepped for the morning rush that would hit later on. People could come and go without my notice, but I recognized the back of his head now that I knew it was him.
He’d been here before.
A lot.
A lot, a lot.
I couldn’t say if it was every day, but now that I thought about it, I just remembered seeing someone always sitting in that corner when I came into work.
Did the man never sleep?
I know I sure as hell didn’t sleep enough, and last night had left me more exhausted than usual.
When I called out Jose’s name, the professor turned to look at me over his shoulder. Because I was waiting on the move, I stared straight at him, and when he saw me, he frowned then turned back around.
“Hey Phoebe,” Jose greeted, then he startled. “What’s wrong? Have you been crying?”
“Mrs. Linden died last night,” I rasped, aware that most people who worked around my shift knew of my circumstances. Sometimes, they’d had to cover for me when Scottie was sick and Mrs. Linden couldn’t manage him, or there’d been that time, a few months back, when she’d fallen and I’d had to help out.
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.” Jose patted my shoulder, looking awkward enough to make me want to laugh a little. “Where’s Scottie? Who’s looking after him?”
“Mrs. Linden’s neighbor.” Cheryl had agreed to look after Scottie for thirty dollars for eight hours. Not a bad rate, but considering I was paying her under the table, and she was at home anyway with her two kids, I figured it was better than nothing, and though I was going to let my mom care for Scottie at night, trusting her throughout the day too was just asking for trouble.
But, all told, it might be cheaper for me to stop working at the café period. Two hundred bucks a week on childcare wasn’t sustainable, and I needed every cent of what I earned here for living expenses. I’d need to figure something out before the money Enid had given me hemorrhaged. Working from home would be for the best, but hell, who didn’t want that kind of job?
Still, that was for another day. For the moment, I could pay Cheryl, so I just needed to get to work.
And hopefully, Professor Maclean would distract me from my misery.
Of course, I should have realized there was no ‘hopefully’ about it.
The professor was here for blood, and like a shark, he circled around me the instant Jose had left with a tired yawn and the promise of an empty bed to climb into.
I envied him.
God, I just wanted to go to sleep too.
He left his booth and headed to the counter where I was wiping down the small mess Jose had left behind. I didn’t mind cleaning up after him. Jose was a messy worker, but he didn’t have a problem with me running a few minutes late. We had a good relationship on that score—I cleaned up his mess, he didn’t mind if I wasn’t always punctual.
Symbiosis in the workplace. What more could any employer hope for?
When Maclean approached me, I stopped mopping up crumbs and discarded coffee grinds and turned to face him.
“Good morning, sir, how may I serve you?”
His eyes were narrowed slits as he stared at me—seriously, did the guy know how to do anything but glower when it came to me?