sakura
Brimming with excitement, I knocked on Callan’s door Friday after school and glanced into the unlocked room. Callan looked up from his desk, eyes softening slightly when he spotted me.
“Sakura,” he said, my name rolling off his full pink lips.
Instead of waiting for an invitation inside, like I normally would, I walked into the room, placed my backpack on my assigned seat in class, and pulled a chair up to his desk, where he had been working.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I kinda have a favor to ask you,” I said, placing my hand on his knee underneath his desk, finally having the confidence to touch him at school. The door was shut, so … it should be fine.
Besides, Callan told me that he had been happy lately … with me.
He cocked a brow. “And what is that?”
“Do you think that maybe”—I gazed over at him while my fingers wrapped around his bulge through his pants—“with your permission, I could skip Monday’s class?”
“You can rub me off all you want, Sakura, but I’m not going to miss an hour of seeing you,” he said, making my stomach flutter.
“I’ll still be in class,” I hummed.
“You want to skip my class, but you’re still going to attend? How does that work?”
“I’ll be”—I gripped him through his pants, feeling his dick harden in my hand—“underneath your desk.”
Callan’s soft eyes turned playful, his lips curling into a smirk. “Is that—”
Suddenly, João opened the door, sauntered into the room and kicked it closed behind him with his foot, then gazed over at me.
“The fuck is she doing here?” João growled, his backpack slung over his shoulder.
My eyes widened. What is he doing here?
I glanced over at Callan, then peered down at my hand on his … bulge.
Quickly, I pulled myself away and fiddled with the bottom of my skirt. “Extra help.”
“Extra help on a Friday?” João asked, tugging out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. He stuck a cigarette into the corner of his mouth and lit it, taking a long drag from it. “What does the valedictorian of our senior class need extra help with?”
My cheeks turned bright red as strands of my black hair fell into my face. I gazed down at the papers in front of Callan and tried hard to ignore João’s stare. But, fuck, I did not know what to say.
Like, at all!
Callan pulled a yellow envelope from his desk, cleared his throat, and stood, his expression hard. “None of your business, Rocha.” He walked over to João, then held out his hand.
After growling underneath his breath, João pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “Where’s the money?”
When Callan handed him the envelope—which apparently had a lot of money in it if he was doing business with Poison—João handed him the slip of paper. I stared through wide eyes at the interaction, my stomach in tight knots.
What the hell is this?!
Why is Callan doing business with Poison?! Does it have anything to do with that scary guy who showed up to his house the other day and almost caught me with him? Does it have something to do with the Harleens?
João peered inside the envelope, pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, and blew out a puff of smoke into the room. “Good. You know where to find me if you need more information.” Then, he walked out of the room.
I kept my mouth shut until the door snapped shut behind him, and then I let out a long breath. Callan stuffed the slip of paper into his pocket and stood there, tense, for a few moments, his back muscles rippling against his sweater.
“This is one of those times, Sakura, where you don’t ask questions,” he said before turning back around. When he finally faced me, his eyes were hard. “And don’t mention that I did business with João to anyone.”
“You did business with who?” I asked, playing along.
But, fuck, I was nervous.
Sure, the guy at his house had looked scary, and Callan having a gun stuffed in his glove box was terrifying. But Poison?! Poison! They were three kids from Redwood who did shit that nobody ever even talked about.
Dealt drugs. Bullied teachers. Killed people.
What does Callan want with them? What does that slip of paper have on it? How much money did Callan give him?
The questions continued to pile and pile and pile. And I realized for the second time that I didn’t know Callan at all.
How far deep is he in all this stuff? What has he done? Or more importantly, what is he willing to do to and for people to protect himself? Is his wife just like him? Will she pull a gun on me if she finds me with her husband?
“I just have one question,” I whispered, unable to stop myself. “And that’s it.”
Callan sat back down beside me, staying quiet.
“Am I safe?” I asked, chewing on the inside of my cheek and kicking my legs back and forth underneath the desk. My throat was dry, my stomach twisting. “You know … being with you.”
Callan snapped his head toward me. “Of course you’re safe.”
“But you’re in some … some shady stuff,” I whispered.
The only reason I had asked was because … I didn’t see this ending anytime soon. I wanted to be with him more than I wanted to be with anyone. And—Ichika was right—it wouldn’t last forever.
But I was happy now. And it seemed like Callan was too. He wanted to spend time with me outside the classroom, besides all the sex. Heck, he had invited me to lunch with him yesterday, then to his house, where we didn’t even do anything intimate. I didn’t want to lose this.
“Sakura,” Callan said. “Look at me.”
Nerves zipped through me, but I peered up.
“I will protect you,” he said, his voice strong. “From anyone.”