Chapter 30
chapter thirty
gabe
Luna
So that was awkward. A heads up would have been nice.
Can we talk after you finish work?
My finger hesitated over the call button. Every time I came close to pressing it, I remembered the shock on Luna’s face when she saw me in class.
The moment I entered the room, my eyes had automatically sought her out but didn’t find her there. My initial disappointment turned into relief at the possibility she’d chosen that exact session to skip a class. Then I’d worried that something was wrong, because she wasn’t the type to be absent for no reason.
I was about to introduce myself when she rushed inside the room. I hadn’t been prepared for her to be late or for the punch I felt in my gut when our eyes met and hers dropped to the floor.
Thank God Kriz had been there to break the tension. She’d apologized for being late and herded Luna to a pair of seats at the end of an aisle, putting them just in my peripheral vision. That made it easier for me to get through my lecture pretending that Luna wasn’t there.
It felt like the culmination of all the poker games I’d played in my lifetime.
Just call her. This is Luna.
Exactly. This was Luna . Her opinions, her feelings mattered more to me than the sum of most people I knew combined. And I’d hurt her—again. How many mistakes could I make before she ran out of chances to give?
Steeling myself, I called her.
“You’re alive,” Luna answered.
I heard none of the usual lightness in her voice, and its absence weighed on my chest. “I’m sorry.”
“You need to be more specific there, Professor. I don’t want to assume you’re apologizing for something you aren’t.”
Fair enough. “I’m sorry for not warning you about the class. And for taking so long to reply.”
“Technically, you didn’t reply,” she said, her tone even. Reasonable. “So you knew I would be there?”
“I didn’t know that when I agreed to sub for Max, but I put two and two together when I saw the name of the class,” I admitted since I couldn’t lie to Luna.
Silence echoed in the space between my explanation and her response. “You know what sucks?” she finally said. “I want to ask why didn’t you tell me, but at the same time, I feel like I have no right to expect anything from you. You have no obligation to tell me about your schedule or thought process or whatever.” She drew in a quick breath. “I guess I just thought we were friends.”
“We are.” The skin at my nape pulled tight, and my reassurance fell flat. That label— friends —felt too small for the shape our relationship had grown to in the past months. Did friends resent the possibility that the other person was dating someone else?
“But only outside school, right? At school, I’m just any other student.”
You were never just any student , my mind shouted. But my mouth said, “We are friends, but there are boundaries we need to maintain around campus. You know that.” My voice came out sharper because I said it for my benefit as well as hers. “Look, I should have told you I’d be in your class. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but I ended up making things worse. That was my mistake, and I’m sorry for that.”
After a long pause, she responded. “Alright.”
I frowned. “Alright?”
“I appreciate the apology. I just hate that you’re treating me like I’m a dirty secret when there’s nothing dirty going on. It’s not like we’re hooking up or anything remotely close to it.”
Trying to ignore the visuals that flooded my brain, I spoke in what I hoped was a reasonable tone. “My position in the university isn’t secure, Luna. If you factor in that I’m still completing my doctorate, there’s a lot at stake.” Especially given how Nora had validated my hunch that my output thus far wasn’t on par with her expectation. It amped up my frustration, triggering an outpour of words. “Even if nothing inappropriate is happening, there’s no controlling what other people might think.”
“I understand that your job security is important to you. But thank you for explaining it further. At least I know where I stand.”
“Luna—”
“You have your boundaries, and I respect that. Now I need to set my own so I won’t keep getting hurt. Because every time I think we’re going somewhere, you slam the brakes and take a U-turn without the least bit of warning. And that’s unfair.”
“Luna.” This time, she waited a beat, giving me a chance to defend myself. Yet nothing came out of my mouth. The truth in her words sank deep in my stomach, swirling in the acid of my guilt and regret. My throat dried up, and I felt my opportunity to repair the situation slipping from my grasp.
Her sigh sounded like defeat. “Don’t worry, Gabe. I’m not as fragile as you might think I am. I can deal with rejection,” she said. “Anyway, I need to go. I have homework.”
“I’m sorry,” was all I could say, and I hated myself for it.
“So am I. Good night.”
I sat there staring sightlessly at my phone long after she hung up. The finality in her tone rang in my ears, and it seemed to echo every goodbye I’d gotten in my lifetime. It felt painful and wrong, and for once, I couldn’t take an ending for what it was. I couldn’t lose Luna—not when there was so much I needed to say to her.
So I texted her.
I waited all night, but I didn’t receive a reply. Then again, could I blame her?