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 beingallI 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.6
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 frombothmy 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.”
