Chapter 7 #2
A text from one of the people in my Unit Ops lab group appeared at the top of the screen, but I ignored it. Lab didn’t start for a couple weeks. Thankfully, I had time to get used to the prospect of seeing Dr. Killshaw multiple times a week in close proximity.
For now, I could pretend nothing existed other than myself and my digital world.
━━━━━
I was mindlessly scrolling on my phone, waiting for my shift to end. I wished I’d brought a book or my laptop or something—so I could do anything other than rot my brain with social media. And my phone loaded everything slow as fuck, because it was old as fuck. Time had slowed to a crawl.
The door to the gas station opened and I glanced up at the customer, then stiffened. Without thinking, I shot up from my seat and went straight into the empty back office, then shut the door behind myself.
What the hell was I doing?
He was just a customer, and I couldn’t ignore him.
My pulse was beating strangely hard and fast, making me a little bit shaky.
I slipped back through the door, awkwardly waiting behind the cash register as Dr. Killshaw browsed the aisles of the tiny gas station.
Why would he be here, of all places? His wrinkle-free button up and perfect hair didn’t fit in among the shelves of cheap snacks and foggy fridge doors.
I tried not to watch the stretch and pull of his defined muscles under his shirt as he browsed.
Deep breath.
He grabbed an energy drink from a fridge, then some bag of chips from the snack aisle.
It was so weirdly normal. I think I’d expected him to buy sophisticated snacks, but no; he was a regular person buying regular gas station food.
I forced myself to look down at the register, so he wouldn’t see me staring at him as he walked up. My cheeks felt warm.
He set his items on the counter then pulled his wallet out of his pocket, not really looking at my face. I wasn’t sure if I should address him or not.
As it turned out, I didn’t need to make that decision—he made it for me.
“Dakota,” he said, a cool smile tipping up the corner of his mouth as he made direct eye contact with me. I had to tilt my head back to hold his gaze. I’d never been so close to him before. My pulse was in my throat. “Nice to see you.”
“Nice to see you too, Dr. Killshaw.”
He nodded as I scanned his items.
“Do you learn everyone’s names that quickly?
Or just mine?” I asked before I could stop myself, then busied my hands with shoving his items into a plastic bag.
The question wasn’t supposed to come out as accusatory as it had.
Now, it sounded like I was insinuating something… simply because he knew my name.
Fuck, I didn’t even ask if he wanted a bag or not. Whatever.
“I try to, yes,” he said. “Don’t expect me to be an expert this early in the semester, though.”
I forced a quick laugh. “Right. Well, when I’m wearing my hard hat you won’t need to remember anything.” My face burned. Why was I still talking? “Because it’ll…just be right there.” I pointed vaguely to my forehead, where the name tag sticker would be on my helmet.
“Of course. Very useful.”
Shoving his bag across the counter, I caught his eye. His gaze drifted down to my neck, catching on the hickeys from Mason that were still faintly visible on my pale skin. I brushed my hair over my shoulder, an unwelcome blush staining my cheeks. A muscle flinched in his jaw.
My stomach flipped, filthy images swarming my head. His mouth on my neck, his lips pressing against my sensitive skin, biting dark marks into me, panting near my ear, strong body flush with mine and moving—
Stop. I sucked in a sharp breath.
Dr. Killshaw gave another short nod as he turned to leave, not commenting on the bruises along my throat or the way I was breathing harder now.
“I’ll see you in lab, Masters.”
I waved awkwardly.
The second he was gone I spun around and slumped down to the ground behind the counter, kicking my feet out in front of me on the tile.
I dragged my hands over my heated face, embarrassed.
Why did I act like that? I didn’t need to say any of the things I’d said.
I wished I could rewind time sixty seconds and fix everything that’d just happened. It was painful.
At least I didn’t have bruises on my face from Mason’s hand.
Why did my professor have to be so unnaturally attractive, though? That was the real question.
I heard the door open and my heart lurched up into my throat, humiliation making me stay seated. Maybe he’d just assume I’d gone into the back or something. I heard footsteps approaching the counter; I wanted to melt into the floor and never be seen again.
“Dakota?”
I let out a huge sigh of relief at the sound of Eric’s voice, my body noticeably releasing tension.
“Christ, Eric,” I grumbled. “You scared me.”
“Now, how the hell did I scare you? You scared me! Thought something happened to you—like a medical emergency or some shit.”
“I’m not sure if you saw the guy who left right before you came in,” I started to explain, getting to my feet and brushing off the seat of my jeans.
“Oh, yeah. I saw him. Tall fucker.”
I just sighed. “Yeah. Well he’s one of my professors this semester and I just made a huge ass of myself when talking to him.”
“Ah, that’s normal. I wouldn’t worry about it, butterfly.” He gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
“I’m worried,” I deadpanned.
“You want to take your break now?” Eric asked, nodding to the register I was working, indicating he could take over for me if my humiliation was too much to bear.
“Nah.” I shook my head. “I’m okay. Just a moron. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to go.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t nearly as bad as you think it was.”
Sure. Right. Because me fantasizing about Dr. Killshaw bending me over this countertop wasn’t bad. At least I hadn’t let any of those thoughts slip. I would’ve had to drop the class for sure.
Eric eventually left me alone, grabbing a prepackaged cinnamon roll from the display and holding a finger to his lips as he took it with him.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket, navigating to my text chain with my best friend.
Me : My professor just came into the gas station and I acted like I’d never interacted with a man in my life. So bad
Almost immediately, she was typing. A tiny smile pulled at the corner of my mouth and I flicked my gaze out the window to the empty parking lot before dragging my stool over and sitting down, phone gripped in my hands like a life raft.
Talking with Mila tended to make me feel better about my idiocy.
Mila : One, I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you’re saying. Two, at least now you’re memorable
Me : I’m not sure that’s helpful
Mila : What’s worse than being disliked? Being forgotten. You’re sowing seeds
Me : Seeds of what?
Mila : Memory seeds. When he’s alone in his bed…late at night…you might cross his mind. Even if it’s bad, you’re still there. Which means that eventually he’ll associate you with sex and fucking and marriage and babies. This is basic psychology
I groaned, the sound coming out followed by a reluctant laugh. She was ridiculous and also my absolute favorite person.
Me : That was quite possibly the most gigantic leap I’ve ever seen you make
Mila : It was graceful as fuck, though. Admit it. Ballerina-esque
Me : I need to see you. Classes are already stressing me out
Mila : Ivan is having Katya over tonight, but you’re welcome to join the fun
Ivan was Mila’s cousin, who she lived with. He was a decent guy, and always friendly to me when I came over…which was pretty frequently. Ekaterina—Katya—was his girlfriend.
Me : I’ll text you when I get off
Mila : I’ll be waiting ;)
I dropped my phone to the counter and leaned forward, propping my chin on my palms. My thoughts wandered, latching onto old memories I always had to shove to the back of my head. The encounter with Mason was dredging everything back up, reminding me of all the things I’d never truly dealt with.
But I didn’t want to deal with them. I just wanted to forget them.