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Three
My disbelief clawed toward something darker. “I can decide for myself who I do and don’t want in my life.”
“What about Tiff?” He held my gaze, unflinching, and my irritation inched closer to anger at my college girlfriend’s name. “You’re so sweet. Always seeing the best in people. I’m a disgraced college professor who may never teach again. It doesn’t matter that my probation is over—the world sees what happens the same way your friend does. You need someone better—”
“Stop.” I couldn’t keep the edge from my voice. I was willing to overlook a lot of things. Give people the benefit of the doubt. But no one else got to tell me what was best for me. My parents did that to me in high school. Refused to let me skip grades or take early college courses. Told me to suck it up when I complained about being bored and then about being bullied. Pointed out again and again that if I was going to survive in the real world, it was best for me to learn to be like everyone else.
“This was a mistake.” I shoved away from the table. My face had to be bright red from anger and humiliation. I needed to be anywhere but here. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have found you. Have a great life.”
“Luna, sit down.” Graham grabbed my wrist and I jerked away harder than I needed to, slamming my hand into a nearby chair and sending it skidding a few inches. The sting added to the growing lump in my throat. I stalked toward the door, not daring to look back. I had to keep my gaze focused on next steps. Reaching the sidewalk. Heading for the bus stop, which, thankfully, was nearby, and the bus was only a couple blocks away.
“Luna.” Graham reached for me again.
I glared at him, pouring all my fury into the look. “Touch me, and I’ll scream,” I said evenly. I might scream anyway. Not really. Composure was important in public. But wow I wanted to lose control.
Graham stayed about a foot away. “I didn’t mean—”
I slipped in my earbuds and turned away. As humiliated and pissed off as I was, I was still worried that if I let him explain, I’d believe him and forgive him. He was right—sometimes I was a shitty judge of character, and I didn’t want any more hints that was true when it came to him.
The bus pulled up to the curb, saving me from having to pretend any longer that I could ignore Graham. I stepped on, and he let me go.
That shouldn’t hurt. It was exactly what I wanted.
I took a seat at the rear of the bus, tucked away from prying eyes, and pretended to be involved in my phone. The screen wasn’t on, and neither was the music. I couldn’t stop replaying the entire coffee shop scene with Graham.
Did I overreact? I was as embarrassed as I was mad, but that didn’t give him the right to tell me this was for my own good. Why didn’t he just say I’m not interested. That would’ve hurt. A lot. But putting the whole thing on me.
And kissing me, first…
When I got home, I slunk into my basement studio apartment. The space was cramped, barely big enough for a full-sized bed and a desk, but it was cheap and I didn’t take up much space. Violet had offered to let me stay in her apartment when she moved in with Hunter. She’d let the lease auto-renew. I already owed her and her guys too much I could never repay.
I flopped down on my bed and stared at the ceiling. Speaking of Violet, I promised I’d call her when I found Graham. She’d make me feel better in an instant if I did.
I wasn’t ready to feel better yet. I needed to process before I shared this with anyone, and especially before Violet insisted on hammering on Graham’s door on my behalf, to tell him he was an idiot.
The next few hours passed in a zombie-like haze. I streamed Fruits Basket to remind me I wasn’t the only clueless girl in the world who was attracted to an even more clueless guy, when there were plenty of other attractive men around me.
When I finally lay down for the night to sleep, I wanted to indulge in one of my favorite fantasies, with my favorite battery-operated boyfriend. An orgasm would make things better.
It was a scene I’d played out a billion times since Graham was my professor, and it never got old. I’d separated fantasy from reality then, and I could now. It would be easy to slide into the familiar scene.
A computer lab with just the two of us. We’d be working closer than we should be, and he’d push me onto a nearby empty space on a desk. Slide between my legs. Cup my face in his palms, and say, “I’m the last thing you need in your life.”
Damn it. My frustration returned, bubbling inside.
I could deal with this. It was my imagination after all. I’d make a few alterations and it would become another of my favorite daydreams. The one where Oz walked in on us mid-screw, liked what he saw, and fucked my face while Graham pounded me from behind.
A good, hard, dirty round of everyone getting off, complete with the thrill of being in a public place.
In my mind, I rewound to before Graham opened his stupid mouth. While he was seconds from kissing me. The imaginary classroom door opened.
“I hope I’m interrupting,”Oz said in that delicious tenor.
“I’m glad you have people looking out for you. I’m the last thing you need in your life,”Graham repeated.
I yanked my pillow out from under my head, smothered my face with it, and screamed until I was hoarse and out of breath.
Stupid jerk had to go and think he was being noble and ruin everything.
