“Yeah, yeah. For a long time.” He grips the bottle in his hand until it crinkles. “How old is this guy?”
“Why do you care?”
“Because, whether you believe it or not, I am your friend. I do care. I’m starting to think a little too fucking much.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means…” His jaw ticks before he shakes his head. “I’m going out. Fuck this. Just be careful, Piper. Guess that’s all I’m saying.”
I glance at the time. “Where are you going? That’s really all you’re going to say to me right now?”
He turns throwing his hands up. “What more is there to say? You’re with your professor acting like your screwed up past makes everything okay with him. He’s a shoulder to cry on.”
Hurt laces through my veins. He knows enough about my past to know he shouldn’t have said that. Just like I shouldn’t have said, “And you were just a dick to ride when shit got too tough to handle.”
His eyes narrow as he backs out. “At least I’m not your professor.”
Scoffing, I grab my bowl. “Fuck you, Easton. Just … fuck you.”
He calls out, “Been there, done that. Kind of glad I don’t have to experience that kind of crazy anymore, sweetheart.”
My heart breaks a little as I listen to him go upstairs and close his door. I remain in the kitchen eyeing my cell phone itching to call Carter knowing his number is in my contacts now. He insisted I could reach out to him whenever I needed.
Did I need him now?
I want to call him.
To tell him to come over.
But I can’t.
I think of Ainsley sleeping upstairs, and my roommate who’s loudly sifting through his dresser drawers and close my eyes when I listen to him walk down the stairs and slam the front door closed behind him.
I don’t need Carter.
I don’t need Easton.
I just need … peace.
Rinsing my bowl out in the sink, I grab my cell and power it off for the night while I think about East’s harsh words. They penetrate my chest in ways I can’t ignore. If he says he cares and means it, he shouldn’t have walked out.
I refuse to even wonder if he’s right.
Chapter Twenty-Five
There’s a comfortable silence in Carter’s office as we grade papers across from each other. The stack is almost finished, which means we’re close to being done for the night. As soon as the final paper is marked and set off to the side, we shift roles. It’s always a silent transition, but one that seems easy to make.
Tonight is different though. I picked up soup and sandwiches from my favorite café on campus and brought them for dinner. We ate with basic conversation about our days, about homework, about the class we co-teach. He tells me about the following week when my advisor will be observing me taking charge of the classroom. I’ll be recorded, assessed, and updated on my progress leading up to the final stretch of my degree.
“You’re quiet,” he notes softly, pushing the paper away from him. I lift my eyes from my own paper to meet his. “You okay?”
Ever since my fight with Easton the other night, my mind has wrapped around everything he said. I look at Carter and think about my roommate’s theory. “I got into an argument with my roommate. I’m just thinking about the stuff we both said.”
Carter leans forward. “Want to talk about it? You know I’m here to listen. And you have my number if you need it.”
I’ve had his number for weeks, and not once have I used it. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I told myself it’d cross a line. Talking to Carter on campus, making plans with him face to face seems harmless. Innocent. Calling him after dark, desperate for somebody to hear me when I’m at my lowest means something entirely different.
Playing with the red pen in my hand, I lean back and rub my lips together. “Do you think that this is happening between us because of Danny?”
Both his brows raise in surprise. “What?”
I fidget with the sleeve of my shirt. “We’ve been through this before, I know, but part of me worries that maybe what happened in the past is why we’re here.”
He takes a moment to study me before leaning back in his chair. “Was that part of the argument you had with your roommate?”