Page 17 of Learn Your Limits

Chapter seventeen

Reid

Today didn't exactly go the way I thought it would, but I'm still writing it off as a success.

I mean, I would have preferred if our lunch date lasted a little longer, but I also sprung it on him without warning, and I did actually have a class to get to when he showed me out of his office.

I was tempted to find him when my classes were over, but figured it was better not to push my luck.

He asked me not to linger around his lecture hall or visit his office unless necessary, and while I feel like seeing him is necessary, I'm not so sure he feels the same way.

Now Wes and Matt are playing some war-type video game on the Xbox in the living room, the sounds of shooting guns and explosions bouncing off the walls of the apartment. We polished off a couple of pizzas, and then I retreated to my room, where I've been sitting at my desk for the last hour.

Crumpled balls of paper litter the ground and my workspace, a clear indicator that my mind is elsewhere.

Every time I put pencil to paper, the lines are too heavy or too thin, the shading is all wrong, and the angles are a disaster.

I release a growl of frustration and quickly stand, running my hands through my hair as I begin to pace my bedroom.

No matter what I do, I can't get him out of my head. I don’t understand how he can be so warm over text and yet feel so cold when he’s standing right in front of me.

I’m pretty sure his icy exterior was simply a wall he put up because of the new dynamic of our relationship.

Not that we really have a relationship at this point. But fuck do I want one.

At least I think I do. I’m still torn and confused.

My heart feels as though there’s some kind of invisible tether pulling me toward him, while my head is screaming at me to slow down and take a step back.

Except the voice in my head doesn’t belong to me.

It belongs to a man who has been drilling ideas, his ideas, into my head since I was old enough to comprehend the world around me.

I don't know how to explore this thing with Milo without diving in headfirst, but I'm worried once I do, the water will be far deeper than I could have ever imagined.

Resigned to spending the night with him on my mind, I grab my phone from my desk and pull up the app we have been using.

Nerves twist and tangle in my stomach as I think about what I want to say to him.

I want to ask him how his day has been and what he's up to now.

I want to know if he's been thinking about me as much as I've been thinking about him.

Yesterday, I wouldn't have hesitated to text him and find out.

I've already tried to show him how eager I am. Maybe now it's time to be vulnerable. Even if doing so goes against everything I’ve ever been taught. My father is the type of man who thinks masculinity is a one-size-fits-all type of thing and if you don’t fit into the crafted mold, then you’re not a real man.

It makes me wonder—and terrified to find out—what he will think of me when he learns that I have no intention of following the path he has designed for me.

CallMeCal: Been thinking about you all day, Milo.

Ugh. Why is this so hard? How many flirty conversations have I had with women? I've never struggled, but I've also never cared this much. It doesn't help that my chosen username feels a bit odd now that he knows my real name.

CallMeCal: Don't worry, I won't send another video.

I don't even know if I still want to be on this app. It's meant to be a way to meet and connect with people who you could potentially form a relationship with, and I've already found Milo. I'm not interested in meeting or talking to anyone else.

Instead of staring at the screen and waiting for him to respond, I swipe out of the app and open Spotify to my favorite playlist. Some people say they are mood readers, but I'm a mood listener.

My playlists consist of everything from punk rock, metal, and emo to pop and country.

With bands like Sleep Token, Bring Me The Horizon, Broadside, Rain City Drive, and Bad Omens cued up, I pop in my wireless earbuds and attempt to drown out my thoughts.

A few songs play before my music pauses, phone vibrating with a text alert.

JustMilo: You still shouldn’t be telling me that.

JustMilo: But at least there’s some secrecy of your identity on this app... Cal.

I’m so damn sick of other people telling me what I should and shouldn’t do. I wish we could just text instead of communicating on the app, but I know at this point, it’s better to maintain the distance between us.

At least on paper.

He can’t be seen having any kind of intimate relationship with a student, and I’m sure text would fall into the “intimate” category. Plus, like he said... Here, I’m just Cal.

I’m not Reid Callahan, and I’m not his student.

CallMeCal: I hate this. This isn’t how I imagined things going.

JustMilo: I don’t have a choice.

Fuck. Does that mean he's only acting like this because he thinks there's no other option? Because he thinks he has to push me away now that he’s my professor?

CallMeCal: What if we kept our conversations strictly on here?

CallMeCal: I won't approach you on campus.

JustMilo: I should say no. To all of this. To you.

JustMilo: You can’t have me in the way you want, but I’m afraid I’ve already grown attached to you.

He’s attached to me.

Heat rushes through my body and rises to my cheeks as a smile paints my face.

CallMeCal: And what about the way you want me?

It feels like I'm putting my heart on the line by asking, but I need to know this isn't one sided. Being attached doesn't necessarily mean he wants me the same way I want him. If he can honestly tell me that he doesn’t feel what I feel, then I’ll leave him alone. I’ll stop reaching out, and I’ll sit in the back of his lecture hall for the remainder of the semester.

Out of sight, out of mind.

JustMilo: What about it? You know nothing can come of it with our current situation.

CallMeCal: I need to know what you want, even if you think it doesn't matter.

CallMeCal: Our current situation isn't permanent, you know.

JustMilo: Well, I’m trying to ensure my position stays permanent.

JustMilo: But you have a point.

JustMilo: You’d be willing to wait until the semester is over? No other person is going to catch your eye while you wait for me? Be real, Cal. You’re young and in a sea full of other students your age without the complications that come with... me. I’m not an easy option.

The use of the nickname “Cal” didn’t bother me the first time we spoke, but now that he knows my real name, I don’t like the idea of the pseudonym on his lips. I don’t think I have the answer he wants to hear, but all I can do is be honest with him.

Between the two of us, he’s supposed to be the older, wiser one. Neither one of us can really promise that no other person will catch our eye, but isn’t that true with every relationship?

Even in marriage, couples often find themselves attracted to other people. So, yeah, someone else might “catch my eye,” but I’ve never felt this kind of connection to someone before. I’ve never wanted to pursue someone the same way I want to pursue him.

CallMeCal: I would never do anything to purposely put your job at risk.

CallMeCal: You make it sound like I’m the only one who could potentially meet someone else. I can’t promise that nobody else will catch my eye, and neither can you, but I can tell you that I think you’re worth the wait.

CallMeCal: Ever heard the phrase “the hard roads are the ones worth taking”?

I close out of the app and throw my phone down on my desk and then busy myself with gathering up all of the imperfect sketches and shoving them into the small trash bin beside it.

It feels pathetic to want whatever he’ll give me, but I don’t know what else to do. I downloaded this stupid app with the intent of meeting someone, and I did.

It just so happens that person is my psychology professor for the next fifteen weeks.

By Friday, the week has passed by in a blur of assignments, and I’ve been doing my best to avoid Milo.

At least, in person. Not that I’ve been doing a great job, but I’m trying to give him space.

I sit in the same spot each day I'm in his class. The center of the third row, close enough that he can see me clearly but far away enough that I’m not tempted to reach out for him or make some comment under my breath in a room full of fellow students.

I don’t need to give anyone a reason to look too closely at us.

I’ve been messaging him with random thoughts and things that happen throughout the day, all while keeping my distance when we’re in the same room.

I’m desperate to maintain and grow this connection between us.

I don’t want it to fizzle out just because we aren’t able to have anything physical right now.

A boundary that I both respect and hate.

Sitting in Milo’s class this morning feels like torture.

I woke up way earlier than I needed to and got lost in my own head, completely focused on the drawing of a phoenix that I’ve been working on.

I don’t always add color to my designs, but I can’t wait to see this one completed.

I was so absorbed in the design, I missed my alarm and was late to my first class of the day, which just so happens to be Milo’s.

I was forced to take a seat in the back of the class, and I swear I can feel the disappointment radiating off of him.

I’m just not sure if he’s upset with me for being late and interrupting his lecture, though it wasn’t my intention, or if he’s upset because I’m sitting farther away. I’m really hoping it’s the latter.

“And that’s all for today. I expect everyone to do the assigned reading and be prepared for discussion on Monday. Mr. Callahan, a word, please?”

I heave a sigh—more for show than anything else—and slide my laptop into my backpack. Throwing it over my shoulder, I make my way down the steps separating us.

“I apologize for interrupting class, Professor Cervantes,” I murmur, dropping my eyes to the floor and shifting my weight from one foot to the other.

“I got a little sidetracked. It won't happen again.” I can't be one hundred percent sure that I'll never be late to his class again, but it seems like the sort of thing people say in situations like this.

“And what is it that had you so distracted at such an early time?” Milo asks, crossing his arms as he leans back against his desk. It’s casual. He merely looks like a professor talking to a student, nothing more.

I hold his gaze for a moment, brows pinching together as a war wages within me.

I don't ever show anyone my art, especially not when it's unfinished, but I've already shown him one piece.

What's one more? Shifting my focus away from him, I reach into my backpack and pull out my sketchbook, flipping to the phoenix I was working on before class.

With both reluctance and excitement churning in my stomach, I hand Milo my art.