And strangely, I like it. I’m not sure why that’s surprising to me. It’s just another form of caretaking, and that’s always been something I enjoy, but I’m not sure if I would like it this much with anyone else. Something about James makes me want to take care of him in ways I’ve never considered before. And it’s killing me not to know if he ate the food. I assume he did since the lunch bag I left on Thursday wasn’t there on Friday.
I made him another lunch on Monday morning. It should be easier to slip into the room and drop it off while actually having a reason to be there. If I go a little early, I’m hoping I get as lucky as I did last week and no one is in there already.
Only when I walk inside, a very specific person is standing there—Professor Valentine, with his arms crossed, leaning against the desk, a scowl on his face that looks practiced.
I love the masculinity of him, the rough edges, hard muscles and lines, and knowing that beneath it, there’s a part of him no one else sees, one that is begging and pleading to relinquish control to someone else.
I want that person to continue to be me.
I don’t stop walking until I’m a few feet from him, and set the bag on the table. “I need the first lunch box back.”
“Mr. Hathaway, you do know I’m capable of making my own food, correct?” There’s a sharp edge to his voice that doesn’t ring true.
“Yes, I do, Professor Valentine.” I glance around to confirm we’re alone, voice low when I add, “But I like to take care of you…to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”
The black nearly takes over the brown of his eyes as he watches me.
“Have you been eating your breakfast at home each morning?”
“I always eat breakfast. It was a one-off that day.”
“Did you eat every meal I made you?”
“Yes, but that hardly means anything.”
“I knew you would, which is what made it even more fulfilling for me. I know how much you want to be good for me, Professor, and I want that too.”
His breath hitches.
This is wrong, so fucking wrong, and not what I’d expected to say to him. Yes, I wanted to make sure he ate, but that’s as far as I’d gotten. Standing in the middle of his classroom, telling him I want him to be good for me, crosses too many boundaries. My logic keeps telling me to step away, to take the words back because this is a mess neither of us needs, but I don’t. I do, however, fight my urge to step closer, to breathe in his warm vanilla-and-musk scent.
“I can’t do this here…right now. We’ll discuss it later. After class,” James tells me.
“I can’t. I have one right after this on Mondays. I was late last week because I went to speak to my advisor. I can’t do that again.”
“Fine. What time are you done for the day?”
“Three.”
“Me too. Not here, though. There’s a park on the other side of Peyton.” He gives me the name. “There’s a tunnel toward the back by the creek.”
I feel like he’s going a little overboard, but I don’t tell him that. I’m surprised he wants to meet me at all. “I’ll be there at three thirty,” I tell James. “Don’t be late.”
I walk up the stairs of the auditorium and find my seat toward the back. I don’t want to distract him. My goal is to make things easier on James, not harder. I pull my laptop from my bag and begin going over some work.
Still, even after other students begin to fill the room, I feel his eyes on me the whole time.
*
When I arriveat the tunnel, James is already there. I made sure not to arrive early because I know that would shake him when he’s already going to be nervous. While I like to test my subs, challenge them, this isn’t a way I want to with James, at least not at this point.
I also have no business thinking about him like he’s my sub because he isn’t, no matter how much I may want him to be. For a reason I can’t explain, I haven’t gotten my fill of him yet. And if we make the right choice here, I’ll never get the chance.
He pushes off the wall of the tunnel as soon as he sees me, hands in his pockets, looking around like he expects the deanto jump out of the bushes at any second.
I’ve never been to this side of the park. The trails and surroundings seem much quieter here.
“It’ll be okay, James. No one will see us here.”
