Page 33 of Devilry

Callie reaches for my hand and squeezes it in comfort. “Hey. It’s no big deal if you like guys.”

Because that isn’t the issue, I ignore her and look at Aiden. He isn’t the person I should’ve used to play out my own daydream. He was enjoying it. I felt it, and by the way he’s staring at me, he wouldn’t mind more.

He rises so we’re toe-to-toe. “It’s okay if this is the first time you’ve kissed a guy.”

“This isn’t about what team I bat for,” I say, forcefully throwing his own words back at him. “This was just a really bad idea.”

“You mean kissingmewas a really bad idea?”

Callie cuts in and puts her hand on Aiden’s chest. “Aiden, babe. It’s nothing personal. I just don’t think he’s ready.”

The way she feels compelled to soothe him adds another layer to this clusterfuck of theirs that I’m in no way equipped to deal with.

Without another word, I turn away from them and walk toward my room. I don’t know what they are to each other, or what they expect of me, and as I slam the door and throw myself on the bed, I know I have no plans to find out.

7

Cole

Icheck my watch, noting that it’s about five minutes until Elijah and the rest of the students meet me to discuss the faculty’s expectations of each candidate and the final research project.

I’m equal parts giddy and nervous, and I shouldn’t feel either of those things.

When he left the lecture theatre yesterday, there were so many unanswered questions, unspoken speculations, and unfortunate misunderstandings that should make me feel uneasy about him. Or at least discouraged at the idea of wanting to be around him.

Distance is imperative, keeping it is the smartest and most appropriate thing to do in this situation. I should adhere to his original wish and relieve him of his commitment to this research project.

But I can’t.

I know the difference between right and wrong, but the minute he acknowledged the attraction between us out loud, it flicked a switch that I can’t turn off.

Clearing the air was supposed to make it all better; give us a fresh start and offer us a clean slate. But all it’s done is make me want to push my luck. It’s like every part of me refuses to give up the opportunity to be in close quarters with him, to watch him light up as he shares his knowledge with those around him; including me.

Even though it’s torture not to touch him, or know that I’ll never get to kiss him, I’ll grin and bear it. For the sake of being able to stare at him for a few extra hours every week, I’ll fuckinggrinandbearit.

Low murmurs gather outside my door signaling everyone’s arrival. I wait for the first knock to sound before fixing my tie and rising from my chair.

I’m expecting four students, including Elijah, but when the door opens and only three sets of eyes are looking at me, my heart drops down to my stomach.

Putting on my teacher’s mask, I usher the three bodies into my office and instruct them to sit around the table and pick up the manila folder labeled with their name.

Just as we’re about to delve into specifics, a succession of knocks plunges the room into silence. They all look at me, waiting for me to acknowledge whoever it is on the other side of that door.

Scared and excited it could be Elijah, I clear my throat and call out, “Come in.”

A nervous looking Elijah walks through the door, his usual backpack replaced with a crossbody satchel he’s wearing as a shield.

Everyone around the table is all smiles and he couldn’t look more uncomfortable if he tried.

“You’re late,” I say sternly.

Running his fingers through his hair, he looks more disoriented than I’ve ever seen him. His green eyes are glassy and guarded; dark, tired circles surrounding them. He takes in the other students, directing his attention to them. “Sorry, guys. Won’t happen again.”

With the only spare seat beside me, he trudges my way without even a second glance. Trying to give him space, I get up as soon as he sits down and decide that anything I need to say can be done with a comfortable distance between us.

Something about his demeanour screams embarrassment and discomfort, and for the first time since we’ve been in a room together, I don’t think it has anything to do with me.

“Elijah, that remaining folder is yours,” I say, pointing to the middle of the table. “And I was about to have you all introduce yourselves. Jenna, can you start?”

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