I hated that her eyes brightened when I asked her to go for a cup of coffee after class the next day.
“So, according to Cosmo, I like you,” she announced.
We’d ordered two coffees and sat at a quiet table in the back of the coffee shop. Rachel was attempting to act like nothing was wrong, but I heard the shake in her voice and noted the way she twisted her watch back and forth.
“More quizzes?”
“Yep. Question nine was iffy,” she teased. “It asked if I’d still be physically attracted to you if you gained sixty pounds, went bald, and suddenly became unemployed. My pen was hovering over a certain answer, but then I remembered you like to blindfold me anyway.” She smiled and fuck, it hurt.
When I didn’t respond, Rachel thought I was offended.
“I’m teasing, you know,” she said.
I nodded and cleared my throat. It felt like my balls were stuck in there as I attempted to get out the words I needed to say.
“Listen, Rachel…I can’t do this anymore.”
Her smile wilted. She knew what I was saying, yet still found a way to cling to hope.
“What? Hang out on campus? No one thinks it’s odd. I see TAs and professors together all the time.”
“I didn’t mean spend time on campus. I meant spend time at all. We can’t see each other anymore.”
“Why? I don’t understand?”
I’d decided after talking to my sister last night that there was no use in telling her anything about the church, about us fifteen years ago. Why hurt her by dredging up more shit when I didn’t have to?
“You’re my student. What happened between us shouldn’t have ever started.”
Sadness transformed into anger on her face. “That’s bullshit. You don’t care about that. And besides, the semester is halfway over.”
“I’m sorry.” I looked down because it was too hard to lie to her beautiful face. “It should have never happened.”
“Screw you.”
“I’ll stay on as your thesis advisor. This is my fault and shouldn’t affect you in any way.”
“It shouldn’t affect me?”
“Rachel…”
She stood. “You know what, Caine? For a long time I felt unworthy of love, ashamed of things that happened in my life, regretting my choices. It wasn’t until the last few weeks that I started to realize I’m not my past. I don’t ever want to be someone’s regret. So go fuck yourself.”
On instinct, I grabbed her arm as she brushed past me. Tears filled her eyes, and I knew she wanted to leave before I saw them, didn’t want me to see her upset. God, I wanted to rewind and erase everything I’d just said. But instead, I released her arm and let her go. It was the best thing I could do for her, even if it didn’t feel that way in the moment.
I couldn’t turn around and watch her walk out. Squeezing my eyes shut, I listened to the sound of her footsteps become more and more distant until I couldn’t hear her at all anymore.
Rachel was right about one thing—she was my regret. Just not in the way she thought. I’d always regret letting her go.
Rachel
Out of habit, I began to walk to the seat I’d occupied since the beginning of the semester. But then I stopped. Screw this. There was no reason to subject myself to a front-and-center view of the mighty professor. I’d do my job, attend the classes I was required to sit in on, teach the extra-help sessions, grade papers—all of it. But I didn’t have to sit where he’d told me he preferred I sit. Not anymore.
Looking around the room, I smirked, seeing an open seat next to Mr. Ludwig. Let him have a close-up view of my body so he can sketch—someone might as well appreciate it.
It was almost seventy-five degrees today, but my seatmate still had his wool beanie on.
“Hey.” He smiled at me. “Professor Stick Up His Ass let you off lockdown? I thought I was going to have to move up to the front just to get to ask you to go for coffee after class one day.”
“Did you need help with something? You haven’t come to any of my extra-help sessions.”
Beanie boy smiled. He was cute, in a college frat boy, dimpled kind of way. “Nope. Don’t need extra help. Just need coffee with you.”
I felt a presence behind me. Seeing the flirt’s eyes lift from my breasts to over my shoulder and his cheeky expression disappear, I knew who it was.
I kept ignoring him, hoping he would take the hint. No such luck.
“Rachel.” Caine cleared his throat. “Can I see you after class, please?”
I closed my eyes. I wanted to respond with ‘Go screw yourself’, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of that much emotion. Nor was I going to let myself turn into one of the rumors I’d heard about Professor West before I even met him.
Plastering on my best imitation smile, I turned to face him, offering a fantastic view of my pearly whites. “Of course, Professor.”
I was adamant about showing him I was fine. But what I saw when I looked up erased my fake smile. Caine looked awful. His bright eyes were bloodshot, his naturally warm-colored skin looked cold, and his appearance was disheveled—not the intentionally stylish kind. No, Caine looked like he’d either been on a bender that ended a few hours ago, or he was sick as a dog and dragged his unhealthy ass out of bed for the first time in days to show up to class.
Even though I was pissed at him, I hoped it was the latter.
Caine nodded and his eyes moved to the student next to me. I caught the slight tick in his jaw as he glared at Mr. Ludwig a few heartbeats longer than normal. My emotions were clearly all over the place, because it pissed me off that he felt he had the right to give anyone a hard time for flirting with me. I owed him nothing.
For the next ninety minutes, I avoided looking at Caine, preferring to pretend to take notes while my mind wandered. When class was finally over, I waited in my seat until the last of the students were piling out and then walked down to the front of the room. I stood ten feet away from Caine, feeling terribly awkward. He was packing up his bag.
“I thought it might be best if we talked in my office.”
“I’m fine here.”
Caine looked up at me. “I’d like privacy.”
“I’d like a lot of things, but I don’t seem to get them all, now do I?”
He nodded. “Fine. Can we at least sit?” He held out his hand to direct me to the front row. Begrudgingly, I went.
I was acting like an insolent teenager, but I refused to look at him. He waited, assuming I would eventually stop playing with my phone and give him my full attention. But he assumed wrong. After a few minutes, he took the hint and began to speak anyway.
“I got an email from the dean about your request to change your thesis advisor.”
“And?”
“That’s not necessary. You’re almost done, and if you don’t want to spend time with me, we can handle most of it over email.”
I finally looked up at him. “I don’t want your opinions on my work. And I don’t want to rehearse my thesis defense with you. I don’t want to defend anything to you.”
Caine reached out to touch my arm. “Rachel.”
I pulled back. “Don’t touch me.”
He held both hands up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”