My Professor's Secret

08|

eight

An entire week passed without Christian and me speaking because of our conversation about Meghan. I wasn't too proud to admit it had been harder than I expected not talking to him, but seeing as we couldn't even converse like two adults without it spiraling into the fiasco it had the last time, I figured a little space between us was necessary.

During my daily call with Dad, he made it painfully obvious how much he disagreed with that decision.

Which didn't come as a surprise.

Leave it to Christian to make me look like the asshole first.

Whether I openly disagreed with his poor choices or told Dad exactly why the argument even started in the first place, I would still come out looking bad. Chris already had time to spin the story he wanted, and I wasn't interested in fighting to survive it.

"Dad, look, I have a shift to get ready for," I said, pacing slowly across the small patch of sidewalk outside the dorm. "Whatever issues Christian has with me that he can't handle on his own without calling you is his problem."

I waited for Dad to correct my tone.

Normally he would have done it immediately. That was usually the part where I apologized for sounding irritated so I could hang up without turning the entire conversation into something bigger than it needed to be.

But this time he didn't.

Instead, a quiet scoff echoed through the receiver.

"Wow."

The voice wasn't my dad's.

My stomach dropped.

"Nice to hear how you speak about me when you don't know I'm listening," Christian laughed weakly.

I stopped walking.

For a moment I just stared down at my phone.

Did Dad seriously ambush me into a three-way call?

"Oh please, Christian," I said, forcing my voice to stay calm even though irritation was already rising in my chest. "I told you my concerns as a sister in a mature manner and instead of taking heed to them, you threw a tantrum. I was trying to look out for you."

My grip tightened slightly around the phone.

"And Dad, I don't appreciate you inviting him onto this call when I told you days ago I didn't want to speak with him until he apologized."

Silence lingered for a second on the other end.

I didn't wait for either of them to respond.

"I've got to go. Bye."

Instead of waiting around for some halfhearted apology—or worse, another argument—I hung up before either of them had the chance to say anything else.

My day had already started stressful and I hadn't even made it to work yet.

Walking to work during the day was quickly becoming therapeutic.

The air was clean and unusually light for this time of year, the kind of crisp breeze that made the trees lining the sidewalks rustle softly overhead. For once the humidity that usually clung to the town had disappeared, leaving the wind cool enough to be refreshing instead of suffocating.

Most students moved around campus in clusters—laughing, talking, complaining about assignments or professors as they crossed between buildings—but walking alone had started to feel normal to me.