Page 44 of Hushed

I look out the window, and then at the clock on my computer. It’s almost 11. In a few minutes, I’ll open this door and Levi will step through it. I should go ahead and open up and make ready for the inevitable.

But I don’t move. I stand with my head against the cold glass and wonder if saying yes to things I didn’t want would have caused less agony than saying no to the one thing I do.

Chapter sixteen

Levi

Bastien’s office is on the fifth floor of the same building he was teaching in. I reach up and trace the nameplate and I can’t help but smile just because it’s his name. He exists. I take a deep breath and knock on the open door.

“No, it shouldn’t be a problem,” Bastien is saying into his phone. He’s standing behind his desk and glances up, gesturing me to enter with a quick motion of his hands. “The interview is at what time, then?” He pauses and listens. I glance around the office. There are bookshelves stuffed with books lining the wall. I pick up The Psychology of Sexuality and leaf through it. I can’t wait to ask him about all of these books. It’s like there’s a whole chasm of stuff I want to know about that only I, and nobody else, get to know.

“I’ll send an email just to confirm, but I am looking forward to it. It’ll be my first time on air,” Bastien says. I put the book away and scan the bookshelf. Some of the titles are in French and look old. I stare longingly at the titles. I can’t imagine being able to read like that, in two languages, and not have my mind explode a little. I look over at him, but he’s writing something down on a sticky pad. “Thank you.” He hangs up and closes his eyes.

“Hey,” I start. “That sounded interesting.”

“A guy named Parker Broussard at WFVN wants to interview me. It’s the campus radio station. He’s suggesting that I do a more regular radio show offering advice.”

“Are you going to do it?”

“The interview? Yes. The regular show, probably not. It counts as part of my service hours but I’m not sure I’m qualified.”

“What are service hours?”

“It’s mandatory volunteer work that I have to do as part of my contract. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have talked to you about this. It’s not really that relevant to you.”

“No, I want to know. It’s just that you look a little tired so I was wondering if running an advice show would be a good fit.”

Bastien smiles gently, but he doesn’t meet my eyes. “This is really awkward,” he admits. “Please sit. And can you put my books back? It’s making me nervous.”

I look down at the book I’ve just taken down. It’s on PTSD, and I really wanted to look it over. A wave of regret hits me. I don’t know why I thought I would have permission to just range over his bookshelf like that without even asking. I’m coming on way too strong. “Of course. I’m sorry.” I sit and let my backpack fall to the floor. I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry about how I came off today.”

Bastien folds his hands on his desk. “I know that because of our past, it’s really tempting to see me as Bastien and not Professor Saint-Jacques, but I need you to really drill down on that, especially in this context. The consequences…”

He looks away, but I can already see how bad those consequences could be for messing around with a student. In the Army, a CO sleeping with an enlisted soldier is a fast track to a court-martial, an OTH discharge, and a ruined career, and looking at him now, I can guess academia will hang him out to dry just as fast. They won’t care about the timeline, and they won’t care that I’m completely in love with him, or that I consented—they’ll just see an abuse of power, a breach of conduct, and a scandal that could destroy everything he’s worked for, which means keeping my mouth shut is the only way to protect him. I pick my words carefully. “I was just taken off guard. When I imagined meeting you again, it wasn’t like this at all. I let it go to my head and I was an asshole.”

Bastien looks perplexed. “You imagined our meeting,” he repeats. He runs his tongue across the inside of his upper lip as he thinks. “I know I shouldn’t ask how you imagined it but I really want to know more than I think is healthy for me.” His lips curl into an anxious grimace. I curl my hands into the armrests in return.

“There was normally rain. It’s normally pouring outside and you’ve been stuck out in the rain so that you look like a drowned rat when you hammer on my door. And you say that you’ve made a mistake. The biggest one of your life…” I stop talking now, because if I say more, my voice will break and this is supposed to be a charm offensive.

“That’s very…specific.” He hasn’t unclenched his hands.

“There are variations. I thought…anyway. I’m sorry about earlier.”

The silence that stretches between us feels like a tomb. He stares at his interlaced fingers. At length, he swallows. “What I said earlier, in Washington…I panicked.”

“I can see why.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re…this.” I gesture to the office around us. “And I’m not.”

He looks askance at me, and for the first time, he lets his fingers drift apart. “It’s nothing to do with that.”

“It kinda is, though, isn’t it? Bastien, you lied to me. I thought you were in some shitty high school. Not an actual professor. I don’t even know where you got your degree.”

“Université Laval, then McGill, then Purdue.”

“See?” I put my hands on my knees. “Someday you’re going to be telling me about something and I’m going to say something dumb, and you’re going to think Well, the Milledge theory disproves that, and you’re going to be nice about it. And one day you’ll notice we haven’t had a real conversation in two years.”