Page 41 of Teach Me

Paul’s smile softened. “Well, you’ve got it locked down in this one.”

I exhaled a relieved sigh. “Thank you so fucking much. I just want to keep my GPA as high as possible. I’ve been looking at the grad program over at Crestview U, and it sounds really competitive.”

“It is. I didn’t get in.” Paul chuckled. “The grad programs here are good, too, though.” He rested an elbow on the table and angled toward me. “Speaking of competitive. I’m applying for a pretty prestigious fellowship. I asked Lusk if he’ll write me a rec letter.”

“Oh cool,” I said, my focus divided as I unzipped my backpack to shove my laptop inside. I had breakfast shift at the cafe the next morning and didn’t want to be a total zombie. Plus, ever since Grady and I had started hooking up, I’d made sure to keep things on a professional keel with Paul and tried not to engage too much—which was kinda ironic when I thought about it.

“Yeah,” he said, eagerness evident in his voice. “I figure his name has some star power since he’s got that book coming out.”

“Oh yeah, good thinking!” I had to suppress a fond smile at the mention of Grady’s book. He’d recently shared the chapter he’d written about decision fatigue, and seeing that he’d included the Enigma maze had made me feel all kinds of chuffed. Like my suggestion had legitimately helped him. He’d watched me carefully while I read, and afterward, when I’d told him I thought it was amazing, he’d chided me with a teasing smile for being biased. But I could tell I’d made him feel good, too. I didn’t think I was biased, though. The chapter, and other parts of the book he’d shared with me, were better than the ones he’d assigned us in class, and most of those had beenNew York Timesbestsellers.

“Mm-hmm. But I also know he doesn’t write rec letters often or easily. He’s kinda known for that, too. And he’s been more distracted lately. So I was hoping maybe you could help me out a little bit. Hype me up to him.”

A chill throttled me, but I forced myself to carry on, zipping my backpack. I mustered a light laugh. “You’ve got the wrong dude. I don’t have any sway with him.” Even as I said the words, I wondered if they were true. I didn’t think Grady gave me preferential treatment in the classroom, nor would I want or expect him to. It had worked out well that he’d passed me off to his TA instead of helping me directly as he did other students because it kept the boundary lines cleaner.

“I’m not sure that’s true, Cam.” Paul’s tone was affable, but the look in his eyes as I met them was more direct.

I shrugged. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I wasn’t sure if it was more disconcerting that the lie rolled off my tongue so easily or that I was having to lie in the first place.

“You knew he had a book coming out.”

“Everyone knows that.”

Paul pressed his lips together. “Look, I’m not trying to threaten you. Or him. But I know there’s something going on between the two of you. And that’s fine. It’s none of my business. I’m just trying to ask you for a favor. It’s not like I’m not qualified for the fellowship. I am. I work my ass off, but an edge will help me a lot, and he’s the edge.”

I swallowed hard, the weight of Paul’s words hanging heavy in the air and creating tension that crackled between us, charged with unspoken implications. I shifted in my seat, suddenly acutely aware of the fragile balance I’d been trying to maintain between my sex life and academics and struggling to find a way to navigate it.

Paul’s expression softened, as if he could see me struggling, which in itself didn’t particularly help my case that nothing was going on between me and the professor. “Cam, come on. I’m not judging you, and I won’t tell anyone. I’m not asking you to spill any secrets. Just put a good word in for me. That’s all.”

I ran a hand through my hair, pressure building in my chest. Paul’s request pushed boundaries and blurred lines in a way that made me uneasy. I didn’t want Grady to feel like I was using our connection for personal gain. Oranyone’sgain. I had no idea if he’d panic if he knew that his TA was onto us. He had so much going on between his classes, me, and his book, the last thing he needed was to worry about his job. Shit, Paul had said he wasn’t going to say anything. It wasn’t like he was outright blackmailingor threatening me. Maybe I could simply hype Paul enough to nudge Grady to write the rec, and we could all move on.

Taking a deep breath, I met Paul’s gaze squarely. “I’ll see what I can do. I make no guarantees. I’m trusting you to be true to your word, but I’m pretty fucking jaded at this point.”

“That’s all I’m asking, just a little nudge, man, no biggie. Have a good spring break, okay? Be safe.”

After he left, I exhaled a long sigh and closed my eyes, trying to relax. Maybe this didn’t have to be a big deal. Paul wasn’t asking me to forge a letter or anything, commit fraud, lie, or steal. Somehow it felt that way, though, and made me all too aware of my precarious situation.

I considered calling Grady and telling him about the exchange right then, but I knew he’d planned on spending the weekend grinding through the editor’s notes on his book, grading midterms, and prepping for the final weeks before summer started. We’d already said our goodbyes for the week, so I decided it was something I could share with him in person when I returned. I had enough on my plate with my trip back home.

21

CAM

Two hours after I arrived at my parents’, I knew I’d made a mistake coming. Nothing had changed. My mom and dad greeted me at the door and gave me a hug, both of them looking me over carefully as they did, like they were searching for evidence that I was using again.

“I made your bed with fresh sheets,” my mom chirped. “Why don’t you go get settled, and then we’ll have dinner in a half hour.”

I took my bag into my old room and tossed it on my bed before looking around. I stared at the plaid bedspread, the worn beige carpet with the stain on one side of the bed from when I’d woken up with a stomach bug once in sixth grade and hadn’t been able to make it to the bathroom. The box of baseball cards on my dresser, an old Bible next to it, neither of which I’d opened in years. In my closet were mostly dress clothes I’d left behind. Formal pants and shirts, suit jackets for church. I’d taken them with me freshman year but had never used them. My parents had returned them to the closet when they’d cleaned out my room at the fraternity house while I was in rehab.

Everything felt familiar and alien at once.

I closed my eyes and let the memories rush through me. The peek of sunlight through the curtains in the morning, my mom’s voice calling out to me to get dressed, the Bible verses I recited, the pride in my mom and dad’s eyes. Darryl Townsend, the biggest guy in my grade, in baseball pants stretched tight across his ass as he walked out onto the field when I was a sophomore. I’d looked away quickly, ignoring the tingle that zapped through my groin. I’d had to look away a lot after that.

I’d looked away so much that I got used to not even looking at myself.

I turned to face the mirror over my dresser, half expecting to see the specter of my high school self gazing back, complete with a perpetual cowlick that Mark had finally taught me to tame with a dab of hair pomade. During rehab, I’d let my hair grow longer, and now there was no trace of it. Aside from that, physically speaking, the guy staring back at me wasn’t much different from the guy in high school who’d been locked in battle with his own desires and determinedly trying to ignore them.

I sucked in a breath and moved forward in time. The hazy warmth of a fresh high, the light-headed carelessness that flooded my veins, the shiver of skin on skin, the feeling of another man’s hand on my cock, the feeling of mine on his. Another line, another pill, another drink. Blowjobs in back seats. The comedown riddled with shivers of shame.