My Professor's Secret

24|

twenty-four

"An explanation? For what? A few moments we didn't spend talking to one another during the job? Grow up. Hand me my keys so I can go."

Trevor's anger wasn't subtle—it was building, tightening in his posture and voice until even the step he took toward me carried heat. Unless he planned to pull a gun from the pockets of that bulky winter coat—or actually explain himself—he wasn't getting those keys back.

"No."

"No?" he echoed, pausing near the lounge exit before turning back toward me. I only nodded. "Then I guess I'd better prepare myself for the long walk I have ahead of me. Goodnight, Ms. Castillo. Hopefully, this mutinous behavior of yours will have sufficed by morning, or else going to Kevin about your insubordination might be the only solution."

He shook his head, disappointment written plainly across his face, before turning on his heel to leave again. Storming out was one thing—but threatening my position on top of it? Over this?

I almost laughed. Actually, I did.

The sound slipped out before I could stop it, low at first, then sharper as he kept walking. It was enough to pull him back again, irritation flashing across his face.

"Really?" I said, stepping toward him, the laugh still lingering in my voice. "Instead of behaving like an adult and expressing what you're actually upset about, you throw a tantrum, threaten my integrity, and decide walking home in this weather is the better option?"

I stopped just short of him, holding his gaze.

"Seems to me like the one who needs to grow up is you, Professor. You're nothing like the man I thought you were."

At this point, provoking him didn't matter.

If this was what he wanted—distance, detachment, whatever this version of himself was—then fine.

What was there to hold onto?

Maybe I was the one in the wrong. Trying to force something that never should have existed in the first place. He didn't even look the same anymore, just someone I'd wasted time trying to understand.

I reached into my apron, ready to throw his keys at him and be done with it, but he stopped in front of me before I could move.

A humorless laugh slipped from him.

"The man you thought I was?" he repeated, swallowing whatever else sat behind his anger. "You mean the one who gave you rides so you didn't have to walk everywhere? The one who spent hours helping you prepare for a competition?"

He took another step closer.

"Or let me guess—the one who nearly broke down in front of you talking about possibly losing custody of my daughter? I'm not the man you thought I was because I'm not trying to be who you want me to be—and you can't handle that."

His voice filled the room, bouncing off the walls. With each step he took forward, I stepped back until my shoulders hit the wall behind me. Trapped.

And the worst part? He wasn't wrong.

A moment of vulnerability didn't entitle me to answers or explanations or anything beyond what he had already chosen to share. He didn't owe me that. And yet, I'd been standing here demanding it.