Chapter 25: Voyeur: Chapter 25

OAKLYN

You’re on a stage. Just like an actress on Broadway.

They had to get naked and at least pretend to perform sexual acts too. This was exactly the same.

But no matter how many times I tried to remind myself of the all the things I’d said before, nothing rid me of the weight pressing down on my chest.

Staring at the ceiling, I tried to focus. I tried to make my body move in ways that made me appear turned on, like I was on the verge of an orgasm as I worked my hand between my legs.

What would Callum think?

I let out a soft moan, hoping the sound would hold me in the moment and not take me to Callum. I couldn’t think about him when I was doing my job. And that’s exactly what this was. A job. He had to understand that.

It wasn’t like we were exclusive or anything, or had any claim on each other, but no matter how hard I tried to remind myself, my chest ached thinking about him. He already knew this about me.

He never outright said how much he hated it, but he’d stopped coming to the club. I could hear the irritation in his voice every time I mentioned work.

Instead of climaxing like I should’ve been doing, I was struggling to focus.

I forced my moans louder, writhing my hips harder, moving my hand faster, and then I tensed, faking the orgasm. I just needed it to end.

After the light finally turned red, I lay there on the bed, feeling the weight growing heavier and heavier as I tried to picture myself from Callum’s eyes.

And for the first time since working there, I felt true shame.

It followed me out of the room. It hung over me as I removed my name from any more performances. There was no way I could be anything but sullen right then. After I managed to plaster on a fake smile and serve customers for the rest of my shift, I sat in the employee lounge, putting on my canvas tennis shoes when Jackson came strolling in.

“Please stay a little longer and agree to a sex scene with me,” he asked, giving me his best puppy dog eyes. I almost laughed because he knew they didn’t affect me.

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.

“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.