It’s permission.
And I just gave Pierce Grant exactly that.
Outside my office, the hallway hums quietly with the muffled rhythm of students heading home, their laughter bleeding faintly through the walls, a reminder that life keeps moving, even when you’ve just made a choice you can’t undo.
I glance down at my phone, feeling as though it’s staring accusingly back at me, reminding me of the email. The one I can’t take back.
Maybe Jackson’s wrong about me. Maybe he’s not.
Either way, perhaps this is exactly what needed to happen.
I can’t shake this uneasy weight in my gut—the thought that maybe Jackson’s anger isn’t just about the fight. That maybe it’s about something bigger, something I haven’t quite seen yet.
I don’t know if I can trust him.
I definitely can’t trust myself.
This wedge I’ve just forced between us might be the painful solution I needed to keep me away from him.
I’ll paint myself as one of the bad guys if it protects us both in the long run.
Viridian Falls is a smalltown with enough secrets of its own. When I really think about it, I’m kind of glad I’m not just adding one more. Sure, the choice of coming out to the whole damn town was taken from me, but I would’ve eventually done it on my own.
Not that it makes it okay.
However, I didn’t expect that coming out as bisexual would throw a wrench into the well-oiled machine of my life.
My girlfriend dumped me because, apparently, I can’t just be a bisexual man in a happy, committed relationship with a woman.
The school has turned against me, rumors following me everywhere.
I’m getting in fucking fights.
I would’ve thought after leaving high school, I wouldn’t have to deal with bullies. Unfortunately, that’s not always true, especially when it comes to small schools in small towns. Even more so when most of the students are here because of mommy’s or daddy’s money.
My professor who I once respected isn’t who I thought he was.
It’s been two weeks since he reported me to the disciplinary committee where I had to appear with my pride broken and my lip busted. I probably would’ve been expelled if it wasn’t for my own father’s influence and hefty checks. Instead, I was suspended for a week while Pierce walked away scot-free—minus the black eye I gave him—despite the fact the fucker started it. I guess it helps when your daddy is on the tenure committee and a certain professor is afraid of losing his tenure.
Of course, I’m convinced there’s more to it than that.
On top of it all, I’ve moved three times in the past month.
I moved back in with my dick of a dad a couple of weeks ago after our tense dinner the night of my fight with Pierce.
My father barely looked up when I walked into the restaurant. He was already on his second glass of wine, his phone face up beside the silverware so he could keep an eye on it if work called. The waiter pulled out a chair for me, and I sat across from him, trying to ignore the way he eyed my lip.
“What happened there?” he asked, his voice carrying that tired edge it usually does when he’s been working too much. Which is pretty much all the time.
“Got in a fight,” I said, snagging a piece of bread and a butter knife to give myself something to do with my hands.
He raised an eyebrow. “A fight. In college.”
“Apparently I’m still capable of bad decisions.”
He nodded slowly like he agreed all too easily. “And who started it?”
I huffed out a bitter laugh. Of course that’s all he’d be worried about.
