13. Grady

My office at the U was my haven. I'd lucked out with a view of one of the campus's quads that caught me a good deal of side-eye and snarky jokes from other department members when it was assigned to me. I'd written at least a third of my book here, but now, as I tried to review my editor's suggestions on my new chapter, I struggled to concentrate. The verdant expanse of grass beyond the window was mostly empty, not quite warm enough for the pickup games of catch or Frisbee that kept it crowded well into the evenings once spring fully arrived, and yet my gaze kept straying in that direction, snagging on the few passersby, checking their hair color, their gait.

I got up, shut the blinds, and returned to my desk to stare at the same marked-up paragraph for another fifteen minutes before I went back to the blinds and opened them again, chiding myself.

The quad was still empty. To the far left near the cafeteria, a few groups of students lingered outside. I searched among them for blond hair and an athletic build. I assumed Cameron ate there sometimes. Or did he just take leftovers from the cafe these days? That I was even ruminating over his eating habits was frustrating.

Dragging my attention away from the cafeteria's doors, I scanned the other buildings, lingering on the stately edifice of the library with its tall arched windows. Arguably one of the U's most picturesque structures, I'd spent a lot of time there when I'd first begun teaching because my first office had been little more than a cramped supply closet tucked into the draftiest corner of the social sciences building. And it had, in fact, reverted to a supply closet after I'd been moved to my current office.

An inviting glow emanated from the windows in the growing twilight. I used to take a large thermos of coffee and stay until one of the librarians or student aides reluctantly kicked me out. Simpler times, relatively speaking. The memory filled me with nostalgia, and only half realizing what I was doing, I gathered my stuff and was out the door, locking my office behind me. Perhaps I needed a change of scenery to shake the brain fog and relentless focus on blond men I shouldn't and couldn't have.

I took the stairs to the third floor and was pleased, as I opened the door, to see my favorite table blessedly empty. No quad view, just the expanse of bookshelves and other tables. Now there were no excuses. I checked my watch. Two hours until close, which would give me plenty of time to knock out some of the revisions.

It was sparse this time of day, with most students preferring the more "social" hub of the first floor or the basement, where it was commonly rumored that students went to hook up, despite the camera system that had been installed down there a while back. I set my bag on the table, belatedly scanning the other occupied tables, and froze, the cool metal of the laptop against my fingertips a counterpoint to the heat that flared in my stomach and radiated outward. Several tables away sat Cameron in all his golden-haired, boyish-charm glory, along with Paul, their heads nearly touching as Paul pointed out something in a textbook. I scrutinized them. Their closeness, their posture, the relaxed set of their faces, especially Cameron's, and the heat in my stomach rose to an inferno.

I ground my molars together, then forced a smile and a nod when Paul glanced up and tossed a wave my way. It wasn't polite to think Paul a prick, particularly when he was doing exactly what I'd asked of him, but it still rankled. A beat later, Cameron followed Paul's line of sight to me, his expression unreadable as his gaze roamed over me in a way that was almost too familiar. I fought to keep the burn in my stomach from becoming a flush—I was a thirty-six-year-old man, not a hormonal teenager, for fuck's sake. I nodded to him as well and then forced my attention back to my bag, already suspecting I'd screwed myself. Leaving would be too obvious, and besides, I was too prideful to show anything other than professionalism.

Forced to swallow the medicine I'd doled out to myself, I nudged my laptop open, booted it up, and stared at the shapes on the screen until they finally became words.

Every movement from Cameron and Paul was an enticing flicker in my periphery. Their voices, hushed as they were, still occasionally reached me. I snuck glances here and there, telling myself I was simply making sure my student was finding my TA helpful and that Paul was acting in a professional manner.

Two pages. Do two fucking pages, and then you can look again.Ridiculous that I had to resort to that, but it worked for a while.

Until Paul squeezed Cameron's shoulder, then tugged a strand of his hair playfully, causing Cameron to laugh. I tensed with uneasiness as I covertly watched them, trying to be inconspicuous. What was crystal clear, however, was that Paul was no longer exhibiting professional behavior. They didn't appear to be working on Cameron's paper at all anymore if I went by their relaxed posture. No, they were…flirting. That was completely inappropriate.

Jealousy roiled in my stomach, clouding my thoughts. Another burst of laughter from them, and I closed out the document I was working on and started toward the pair with absolutely no plan. I knew as I approached it was a bad idea, and yet I couldn't stop myself.

Their laughter died as I came to a stop in front of the table, resting my fingers lightly on the surface. I pasted on a jocular half smile.

"I trust you're finding Paul to be helpful?" I addressed Cameron, painfully aware of how stiff and formal I sounded, while Paul eyed me curiously.

"Oh yeah." Cameron grinned. "Super helpful. I'm really glad you hooked us up."

Hooked us up? I didn't like the sound of that. Nor did I like the way Cameron's gaze cut toward Paul and the tinge of a flush on Paul's cheeks that resulted. Paul was a reasonably attractive man, but Cameron was something else, and it was clear Paul was reveling in the attention. Very unprofessional. I gave him a stern look, and the moony half smile on his face evaporated.

"Working on your paper?" I inched a finger toward a page on the table.

"Yeah," Cameron said, biting his lip. "But I've only got the first page and my outline. Paul was?—"

"We were going over the outline. I had a few suggestions and?—"

"I'd love to take a look," I interrupted. I didn't like how he'd interrupted Cameron, so he could have a taste of his own medicine. "You can go," I told Paul, and realizing I'd probably come across as rather dictatorial, tacked on an attempt at levity. "I know you've got a heap of tests to go through, and I need a break from my screen."

"Oh. Yeah, umm, sure. Thanks!" Paul said in a way that didn't sound particularly grateful. I didn't care. I only cared that he shoved his laptop and books back in his bag and got the fuck out. "See you in a couple of weeks, yeah?" he said to Cameron.

"For sure."

I slid into the empty chair Paul left behind, still warm from his body heat, the proximity to Cameron's causing our legs to brush.

"It's really rough," Cameron said as I picked up paper, the tinge of grit in his voice tempting me to think of other things. I really should've come into this with a better plan. Never in my entire career had I insinuated myself like this or acted so on impulse.

"Rough is fine. It can always be polished later."

I looked away from the color that rose in Cameron's cheeks. I needed to stop thinking about all the things I wanted to do to him, roughly or otherwise. Flipping the page, I looked over his outline.

"How did your trip to DC go? I got your message. I'm glad I was helpful." Fuck, the way he bit his lip and cut his eyes at me sidelong was endearing. "Did you get your chapter written?"

"The bulk of it, yes. Leading with the maze." I glued my eyes to his paper, the words swimming in front of me as I tried to ignore the curve of his pleased smile.

"I can't wait to read it. I don't guess you'd let me read it early. That would be kinda weird, right? Unprofessional or whatever."

"I—" I hesitated and then nodded. "I guess it'd be a bit unusual, yes. We'd probably better stick to class-related things." I glanced again at the paper he'd handed me. "It looks like you're off to a solid start," I concluded.

"Did you send Paul away because he was flirting with me and you didn't like it? I saw you look over."

Christ, the guy's bluntness kept catching me off guard.

"No, I…" I took a breath. "He's supposed to be helping you with class, not trying to get into your pants."

Cameron arched a brow. Then, he plucked his paper from my hands and stood, shoving his things in his pack. "What if I don't mind the idea of him in my pants?"

I bit back the obvious question. The question he seemed to anticipate if the way his mouth hooked at one corner was any indication. "Are you jealous, Professor?"

"No," I said staunchly, shaking my head despite the fact that every cell in my body was vibrating "yes."

"Okay." Cameron shrugged noncommittally. "Just checking. Thanks for looking over my outline. See you in class."

I tracked him as he walked away, simultaneous surges of relief and disappointment making my heart pound. The air remained thick with unspoken tension, his question an electric charge that still hummed inside me with every breath, leaving my thoughts a turbulent mix of desire and, yes, jealousy. White-hot jealousy.

No sooner had the stairwell door closed behind him than the riot of emotions crystallized and propelled me back to my table, where I quickly packed up my belongings, slung my bag over my shoulder, and took the steps down two at a time.

I caught up to him on the sidewalk that wound around the side of the library and the tree line beside it, leading toward the streets bordering the campus where many students shared houses.

"Cameron." He flinched at his name, or maybe it was the touch to his shoulder. The fabric of his shirt was soft, and I wanted to linger, to caress it. I let my hand fall away as he turned to face me and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"It's funny. You know what I fantasize about most?" He let out a sardonic huff. "What it's like to kiss you. I've seen, touched, and tasted parts of you in this super-intimate way, but not your…" He shook his head. "Not your lips. It's stupid, but it's this big open-ended question my brain keeps snagging on, spinning around and around. Maybe we don't kiss the same. Ridiculous, I know. Who even thinks about kissing most of the time? Maybe it wouldn't even be go?—"

The taste of him exploded in my mouth as my lips crashed against his, the sentence I hadn't wanted to let him finish spilling onto my tongue as a sigh. He clutched my shirt, anchoring me to him as his lips moved over mine.

"We can't?—"

"I just?—"

Syllables collided and broke apart, but somehow, I got the gist that we were moving, steered by the pull of Cameron's grip on my shirt, until my back slammed into a wall and I finally tore myself fully away. I became aware enough of my surroundings to realize we'd moved off the sidewalk, beyond the yellowy pools of light cast by the lamps lining the walk, and were behind what seemed to be a utility building bordered by a stand of bushy evergreens.

"Of course you're a fucking great kisser," Cameron breathed, echoing my exact thoughts before sealing his mouth to mine again.

I steered him around so that his back was against the wall, our breaths coming heavy as the kiss deepened and our hands roamed each other. Chest, shoulders, ass. Without a wall between us, touching Cameron was an entirely different experience. A dangerously satisfying one. My knuckles brushed over the stiffness of the erection bulging behind the fly of his jeans, eliciting a wanton groan from him that made me splay my fingers and grip him so tight he gasped. I wasn't sure I'd ever wanted someone or something so much in my life. He was so hard and throbbing against my hand that I couldn't resist a few teasing strokes. With a growl, Cameron pulled away and fumbled with the button of his fly, my own hands trembling with nerves and the force of my desire as I helped him. It was too dark in our secluded spot to see anything in great detail, but the sensations were enough: the sound of our staggered breaths, my heart hammering in my ears as he peeled down his zipper and I wrapped my hand around his naked cock. "Oh god," I groaned, my voice barely audible as the reality of what I was doing sank in.