Constricted: A Flawed Short Story

by Becca J. Campbell

  He frowned, considering whether to speak to her. She looked like she had things on her mind. He had a lot on his, too. The Logan from five years ago came lurching back to him, the one that remembered how nice it was to open up to her, to release all his worries.

  A weighty sigh escaped her mouth, but she didn’t look at him.

  Logan finally decided he wouldn’t have peace with her there one way or another, so he might as well say something. “You okay?”

  She ignored him for several long minutes, but finally turned her head his direction. Her teeth bit her quivering bottom lip, and the line of her throat rose and fell with a tight swallow. She looked like a defenseless, wounded creature.

  But his past mistakes were too much in his mind. If he opened up now—if he let her open up—they’d be back where they’d been five years ago. He’d be caught in that snare again, and it would be even harder to let her down. He couldn’t risk that slippery slope again. There was only one woman he wanted that connection with, and it wasn’t Violet. “Violet, I can’t do this. I can’t be whatever it is you need.”

  When she spoke, her back trembled with each word. “He broke up with me.” She choked on a sob.

  Logan’s jaw clamped tight. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. “I’m sorry about that. But I have to go.” He stood to leave, but whether it was to flee through the woods or to get in his truck and drive off, he hadn’t figured out yet when, in a flash, Violet jumped up from the log and flung herself at him. Logan tried to pull back, but it was as if the supports holding her had crumpled. Propped against him, her body siphoned his energy. For a moment her face was pressed against his chest, her hair against his chin, and her arms clinging around his waist. He was trapped.

  Logan was done being trapped. He gritted his teeth and pulled back, forcefully peeling her arms off his sides. He kept his face the hard mask it was most of the time so she would understand he couldn’t be there for her. Not this time.

  Whatever Logan had expected to see in her eyes—bleary tears, hopelessness, insecurity—none was present. Instead her face glowed, and not with firelight. Something had been stoked inside her, something bold, something white-hot, something passionate. Before he could register what was happening, she launched herself at him again, pressing her body close, her mouth hot and wet on his. Surprise made Logan stumble backward, and he tripped over a log and fell onto his back with Violet’s tight grip not letting go. She landed on top of him.

  Instantly her thighs tightened around his waist and her lips nipped at his—first his top lip and then his bottom, searching for a response. A soft cascade of hair brushed the sides of his face. Logan pushed her away. “Get off me!” He struggled crab-like to crawl out from under her, dust scooting down the back of his jeans in a soft puff. He was hot and breathless, and his words blazed as he clambered to his feet and put distance between them. “What are you doing?”

  Violet pulled herself up off the ground, brushing dirt off her top and her jeans. Her bottom lip stuck out in an irritated pout. The look on her face was too controlled, not wounded feelings as much as a failed attempt. “I just thought that maybe—”

  “Maybe what?” Logan’s voice began to shake. His hands balled into fists.

  “You know…”

  He ground his teeth. “I’m not interested, Violet. I wasn’t interested then, and I’m not interested now.”

  Her eyes flashed, but the passion was gone. This white-hot look was all fury. She looked like she’d explode at him, so charged was the air between them. Instead, she sucked it down, taking a careful, regulated breath. “But we were so good together, Logan.”

  “We were never together.”

  “You know what I mean. You and me…”

  “There was no you and me. You were a student. I was just tutoring you. That was it. There was never anything more.”

  “But the connection between us—”

  “Whatever connection we had—or you thought we had—it wasn’t real. I was being kind. I thought you needed help, so I helped you. It turns out I was wrong. About a lot of things, apparently.” He drilled her with a stare. “Your boyfriend didn’t just break up with you, did he?”

  Violet looked like she was considering what version of the truth to tell. She finally set her shoulders at a haughty angle. “Brad and I aren’t together. He wanted to sleep in our tent tonight, but I told him we didn’t want any boys cramping our style.”

  “So it was all an act.”

  She tossed her shoulders, a playful shrug that said she was enjoying the game and wasn’t conceding defeat. “What can I say? It may have been five years, but I still know how to get to you.”

  Logan’s hands clenched into fists. He clamped his jaw so tight he thought he might break a tooth. “You need to leave.”

  Violet’s lip curled. “You’re right, actually. It is about my bedtime. See you later.” She walked toward the trail, swinging her hips as if flaunting what he was giving up. One of her manicured fingers touched the side of his dusty truck as she passed it, trailing along the back like some girl on a game show. She stopped, turning to face him again. “Oh, and Logan? When I want something, I get it.”

  A moment later, her form vanished into the shadowy foliage.

  Logan strode forward, pushed by the anger bubbling inside him. He stopped abruptly, clenching his hands into fists. What was he going to do—go after her? His nails bit into his palms. The fury roiled inside him, and he flung out a swift kick. His boot hit the side of his truck, and the passenger side door came open with an agonized groan. He just stared at it for a moment. Sighing, he pressed the door closed, but it hung askew. He examined the door, discovering a dent where his foot had hit it. Logan cursed under his breath. It took three hard shoves against the door before he could get the latch to connect.

  ~

  Too full of fury at himself and at Violet, Logan couldn’t sleep that night. Sooner than he wanted, the ceiling of the tent came alight with rays from the sun. He rolled over and crammed his pillow over his head, but eventually he had to concede defeat to the day. By the time he’d roused, relieved himself in the woods, and scavenged some food from his truck, it was mid-day. He heard bustling noises and periodic faint whoops and echoes of conversation, but his site was tucked back far enough that he hadn’t needed to face anyone. Yet.

  Eventually he’d have to trek to the restrooms for his daily trim, but he dreaded the idea of passing Violet’s tent after what had happened last night.

  When Logan finally grabbed his things and headed that way, he figured it was after lunchtime. Without a way to charge his phone the previous night, he was left without a clock, but his stomach growled with complaints of the missed meal.

  His footsteps hit asphalt, the sounds muting as he emerged from the wooded path. Reluctantly he allowed his gaze to trail over to Violet’s site, but the blue tent and all other signs that she’d been there were gone. He wondered if she’d left last night after all, or if she’d packed up early this morning. Either way, his shoulders loosened as he entered the restroom.

  That afternoon he packed his tent, deciding he couldn’t stay away much longer. The chat with George had made him feel guilty about pretending to be sick. He just had to get through the next two weeks until summer finals were over, and then he could figure out what to do. During the drive home he forced his mind to come back to his life in Colorado Springs.

  Falling back into his routine was easy enough, with the stack of assignments welcoming him back home. He tried not to overthink things, and soon a day turned into a week, and then into two. Logan kept his head down and made it through the rest of his classes without calling in sick again. He didn’t run into Jade but had also made it a point to stay on his own, narrow path to and from work each day.

  On the day of the final, he grabbed his satchel, placing the application papers to the University of Colorado inside so he’d have something to work on while the students took their exam. Eying the roll of film sitting on h
is dresser that he’d removed when he’d taken his camera to be repaired, Logan put it in the bag, too. He might as well make use of his access to the campus’s photo lab while he could. Who knew if he’d get those kinds of privileges working for U of C.

  Logan arrived at his office a few minutes before class, enough time to boot up his computer and make coffee. Upon entering the faculty wing, though, a trill of laughter met his ears, making his whole body stiffen. He knew that laugh, and it didn’t belong here. He passed Jenny at the front desk and rounded the corner toward the hall. When he saw the swoosh of auburn hair, he stopped dead in his tracks.

  The laughter died away, and the people in the corridor turned his direction.

  Clancy, his good-natured coworker, nodded his way. “Hey, Logan.”

  Violet tossed her long hair over her shoulder and sent him a coy grin. “Hi…Logan.” The dramatic pause might have implied they were strangers meeting for the first time, but Logan wouldn’t play his part in that game. He clamped his jaw shut and strode past them to his office, entering and shutting the door behind him. His body slumped against the closed door.

  Taking several breaths to calm his nerves, Logan straightened and rounded his desk. He hadn’t had time to sit down before there was a knock at the door. He bristled.

  It opened without his consent. Violet faced him, dressed in a tailored black jacket and a matching pencil skirt that hugged her curves.

  “What are you doing here?” Logan was unable to keep his voice composed. It came out with the ferocity of a train screeching to a halt.

  Her mouth broke into a wide smile. “I work here now.”

  “What?”

  “I’m Dr. Schneider’s new assistant. For now, anyway. I’m hoping eventually I’ll work my way up to a teaching position.”

  Thoughts ricocheted through his brain, colliding with each other. She couldn’t be here by chance. There must be a reason she’d decided to come, but he’d been careful not to tell her where he worked. This time he kept his voice even. “How did you know I work here?”

  She blinked innocently. “What?”

  “You’re here because of me.”

  She tittered and waved a hand as if batting at a fly. “Oh, Logan. You think—”

  “I don’t think. I know. What I don’t know is how you found out I work here.” He folded his arms, stared her down, and waited.

  Her lips tightened into a thin line that was almost a smirk.

  “Have you been following me?” Cold trickled through him at the thought.

  “No! Of course not.”

  “Then how—”

  She gave an exaggerated sigh. “I just saw the faculty parking sticker on your truck—that’s all.”

  Logan’s heart rate slowed a little, but his anger didn’t relent. “You had no right to—”

  “I needed a job—they had an opening.”

  Logan felt a growl churning up from inside him, but he clamped it off. Rounding the desk and pushing past Violet, he grabbed his bag and walked out the door. “I’m late for my class.”

  He recited the test rules and passed the exams out without really thinking about any of it. Ten minutes into the test, the anger and anxiety within him still hadn’t dissipated. Logan surveyed his students scribbling furiously with their pencils, their tension palpable in the room. It, with the room’s stifled heat only compounded on top of the claustrophobic sensations caused by Violet’s presence.

  He couldn’t deal with this. Violet working in the history department, where he’d have to see her every day as she further honed her feminine wiles—trying to get him, or get under his skin—simply being in his space. And then there was Jade, a girl who affected him in a completely different way. He warred within himself what to do about her—part of him longing for that closeness, another part deathly afraid of it.

  It felt like people everywhere were trying to cramp his already too-tight box. Elbows on his desk, he dropped his head into his hands and scratched at his scalp with tensed fingers.

  Then he remembered the paperwork in his bag. He had a way out.

  Logan pulled out the application to the University of Colorado and grabbed a pen. He took a deep breath and began filling out the form. Hopefully today would be the last time he entered a classroom on this campus.

  When the exam was over, he gathered the tests into his satchel, his hand brushing up against the roll of film that still needed developing. He placed it in his pocket and left the building, bypassing the faculty offices to avoid another run-in with Violet.

  Walking across the lawn toward the art building, Logan’s casual strides stiffened. Jade Edwards was exiting the science building, her hand clasped with someone’s. The blond, muscular guy suddenly dropped her hand and picked her up, spinning her in a circle. She screamed with what looked like delight, her grin giddy and her green eyes vibrant.

  Logan’s heart dropped into his stomach. His feet suddenly felt like lead, but he forced himself to keep walking, face rigid. When the guy put her down, Jade’s gaze found Logan’s and held it, her eyes widening. Her smile vanished, replaced by an intense expression he couldn’t gauge.

  By the time Logan neared them, they had both spotted him, and some of the exuberance between them had died away.

  Jade spoke first. “Hi.”

  Logan’s jaw wasn’t working properly.

  “Logan, this is Cam. Cam, Logan.”

  “Hey,” the blond guy said, but his eyes were all on Jade. He barely gave Logan a glance.

  Finally Logan got his tongue to work. “Hello.” He swallowed, trying to think of something to add—anything.

  “We just had our final,” Jade said. Oddly, it came out as almost an apology. Her eyes sought him silently, as if she were trying to say something else. Whatever it was, Logan didn’t speak the language.

  “Congratulations,” he said. “You must be relieved.” He thought about making casual conversation about finishing his own exams, but something made him hold back. This time it wasn’t Jade making him feel cramped. It was her company. There was nothing Logan could say to compete with this guy who looked like he should model men’s cologne or something. He could just imagine him posing shirtless on a beach—was that what she saw, too?

  Logan had always told himself he didn’t want a relationship, not with anyone. And now she seemed to be with someone else. Had he lost his chance?

  “Extremely,” she said.

  Distracted, Logan couldn’t even remember what he’d said, what she was replying to.

  “I’m not sure how well I did on the test, but at this point I don’t even care,” Cam said. “I’m just glad it’s over. I’m sure Jade aced it, though.”

  “I hope so,” she said.

  “I’m sure you did fine.” Logan said. Anguish ripped through his insides, and the pressure of it forced him back a step. If they were together, there was nothing he could do about it. “Well, I need to get going,” he said. “I’m heading to the lab.”

  “Good seeing you again,” Jade said.

  “Good to meet ya, dude,” Cam said. But Logan had already resumed his course.

  When he arrived, the art building was deserted. That emptiness should’ve made him feel release and freedom, but a new, painful ache constricted his lungs, and this one had nothing to do with claustrophobia. This ache was the sensation of loss, like a vital organ had been pulled from his chest cavity, leaving a gaping hole.

  Logan entered the darkroom. With a shaking hand he drew out the film, prepping the negatives and placing them individually in the viewer. As he flipped through the images, rocky hills appeared, then sweeping views, then his own face. That one made him start. He wasn’t used to seeing himself in his photos. He studied it for longer than necessary and realized Jade had a good eye. She’d taken it with hazy mountains in the distance behind him just as he’d suggested. Both the placement and the focus were spot on.

  He flipped through several more and landed on one of her. His breath caught in his throat
as he studied her wide eyes and the arc of her hair whipping back, caught by the wind. Logan stared at it longer than he needed to.

  That image and the one of himself were the only two he ended up developing. He tucked the rest of the negatives away and headed toward his truck, memories of that day in the mountains flashing through his mind’s eye more vividly than any of the actual photos had. The smell of her hair came back to him, faint traces of whatever shampoo she used mixed with the raw scent of the outdoors tumbled together by the wind.

  Climbing into his truck, Logan stared at the completed application on the passenger seat next to him. If he did this, he might never see her again. In the next several years she would graduate and moved on, and he would have no way to find her.

  George’s words came trickling into his mind again. Is it the right thing for you, or are you running away?

  Leaving had always been easier. It was what the foster system did throughout his childhood. When a situation wasn’t working, they made him leave, carted him out to the next home. And when that one failed, he was forced to leave again. Carrying those habits into adulthood had been natural for him. First he’d left his parents for good. Then at the University of Colorado, when his friendship with Violet had gotten complicated, he’d found the easiest way out, the one that avoided confrontation.

  He thought of her presence in the office today and shuddered. He had to get away from her again. He’d left Boulder five years ago, and he could leave Colorado Springs now. It would be easy. But was that what he really wanted?

  His own handwriting scrawled over those pages jeered at him, at his struggle to decide.

  Logan considered the dark-haired girl with green eyes and made a decision. He wouldn’t give up that easily.

  He grabbed the application, holding it in hands that were no longer shaking. After a pause that was less than a blink, he crumpled the paper into a wad. Logan opened the door of his truck and chunked the paper into a nearby trash bin.

  This time he would stay.