Chapter Twelve

“Afternoon, Mr. Archer.”

Cam turned around to find the principal watching him from his classroom doorway. He turned back to give the whiteboard one last swipe and then turned back around.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Baxter. How can I help you?”

The principal walked into the room and sat at one of the students’ desks. Cam had left them as they were, knowing if he set them back in the circle he liked, the janitors would shift them about and not return them to his formation and he’d have to do it again in the morning. Furniture arrangement was one thing he didn’t want to waste time on when he was at work.

“I don’t need any help, Mr. Archer. I just wanted to check in on you. The beginning of this year has been pretty difficult, even for old-timers like myself. I can’t imagine what a new supervisor must feel like after these past few weeks.”

Cam chuckled, putting away the whiteboard eraser and markers and moving about to put away the books the students had left out. Some kids were disorganized, and no matter how often he reminded them, they still managed to leave something on the desks, instead of putting everything back in the bins he had placed around the room.

“That’s really kind of you, Mrs. Baxter, but I’m managing just fine.”

“That’s what they all say,” she replied with a smirk. “Well, all the men, anyway.”

Cam finished what he was doing and went back to his desk. He didn’t dislike his principal, but he wasn’t as chummy with her as some of the other teachers were, and after a snide comment like the one she’d just made, he was sorry about it. He didn’t want to get started in on a conversation that would keep him from leaving in exactly ten minutes. He and Jean-Paul had a kind of phone dating thing going on, and it was his turn to call.

Whenever they planned evening calls, they made them at precisely five o’clock, because sometimes Jean-Paul had evening engagements, and sometimes Cam did. Five seemed to be the witching hour, when apparently no one anywhere did anything but eat. So, he’d need to be on the way in ten minutes to make it home in time to warm up the food he’d already cooked, so he and Jean-Paul could eat dinner together via Skype.

Since their first post-DC conversation three weeks earlier he and Jean-Paul had been in touch every day, either morning or evening. He had even gone to the local winery and bought wine, with Jean-Paul’s coaching, to go with some of his meals. The intimacy growing between them was sweet and hot, and he had no intention of letting his principal interrupt his plans to continue it.

He glanced at his watch and then looked across the room at the woman who seemed to be waiting for some response from him. Sighing quietly, he said, “I’m sure I’m doing as well as can be expected. I don’t feel overwhelmed, even though I acknowledge that the job is more stressful than I had imagined. But I’m fine. Thank you for your concern.”

She studied him for a heartbeat before saying, “I hope you’re not offended by my little joke, Mr. Archer. I know you’re quite capable of handling the task. That’s why you were selected.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Baxter.”

He didn’t address the question of whether or not he was offended. She needed to think about that and draw her own conclusion. He wasn’t interested in making her feel any better. He just wanted to leave. Whatever she wanted, she had best spit it out in the next six minutes. He grabbed his bag from the chair next to his desk and slid his laptop into it, zipping it shut and standing.

“I have an appointment, so I’ll need to leave now,” he said. He never shied away from confrontation and he never waited for others to decide his actions for him. “Maybe we can talk as we walk?”

He walked up to where she was seated as he spoke, knowing she’d either stand, so as not to be lower than he was, or remain seated in an attempt to get him to sit down again. She stood up, and he bit back a grin. Who said you couldn’t train people to follow where you led?

“I came to invite you out for drinks with the rest of the admin and supervisory staff. But as you’ve already got plans, I guess we’ll have to take a rain check. Next Friday?”

Cam considered refusing for a moment, then decided it might be best to give her something as a token of his willingness to be a team player. And it would smooth her feathers after the little battle of wills earlier.

“Sure thing. I’ll put it in my calendar.”

She laughed then and walked with him to the door. “Oh, don’t worry, we won’t let you forget. My secretary sends out the reminders on Wednesday afternoon and Friday morning.”

Nice and efficient. Cam gestured for her to precede him out the door and then closed and locked it behind him. They had decided to lock the classroom doors to discourage kids from sneaking in to get up to all kinds of shenanigans, some of them quite illegal.

“Well, have a good weekend, Mrs. Baxter,” he said, smiling at her as he walked out.

If he drove a little faster than the speed limit, he’d be home in plenty of time to reheat his dinner and pour himself a glass of wine before he made his call. He’d let the dog out in the backyard to do his business and do cleanup after his date. He grinned as he backed out of his parking spot, which was happily close to the front entrance this year. He liked calling his dinner conversations with Jean-Paul a date. He was going to ask him on an actual date soon. He was just waiting for the right moment.

Sam was happy to see him when he got home twenty minutes later. He let the dog have a few precious minutes of his time, scratching him under the chin and bearing his doggy kisses. Then he left him to go change into something looser and was back in the kitchen in five minutes. Friday afternoons were always lazy dinner days for him, and he wondered what Jean-Paul would be eating while he chowed down on pasta and meat sauce. He pulled a bottle of the red Jean-Paul had recommended and took it, a glass, and the plate with his food out to the back patio. Sam lay at his feet as he set the tablet on the stand and went into Skype. Jean-Paul was already there.

“Salut, Jean-Paul. Ça va?”

He smiled at the other man, who was in shadow for a moment before he adjusted the angle of his tablet and light flooded his face. He looked tired.

“Oui, ça va bien. How are you?”

“I’m fine. Little bit weary, but I managed to leave all my work at work for a change.”

He listened to Jean-Paul’s chuckle with pleasure seeping into his bones. He liked how relaxed he felt sitting out on his back porch talking to someone he was growing more attached to by the day.

“So, what’s for dinner? I’m having leftover pasta and meat sauce.” He twirled some around his fork as he spoke and put it into his mouth.

“There was a party today at lunch time for one of the women. She is having a baby in a month’s time. There was a lot of food. I’m having barbecued chicken wings with a salade and the crust of a baguette and butter, and wine, of course.”

Cam licked the sauce off his lips and wiped his mouth before replying. “I thought you said chicken wings aren’t a proper meal?”

“I lied.” Jean-Paul’s laughter warmed the space inside him where Cam kept everything related to this man...all his feelings and questions fit into the space that seemed to be made for him. “I was too tired to make dinner, and anyway, I’m off on another trip tomorrow for the next nine days. Secondary and tertiary institutions in Barbados.”

He didn’t sound at all happy at the prospect. “You don’t sound too thrilled.”

“I am not.”

He didn’t add anything to his bald admission, and Cam got the feeling he was omitting something important. But he didn’t know what it could be, and in case it was sensitive information, he didn’t want to pry. At the end of the day, Jean-Paul was a member of the diplomatic corps of France, and his job probably required him to keep some measure of confidentiality, though Cam couldn’t think of a scenario in which a member of the cultural attaché’s office would need to keep a confidence.

“All packed?” He didn’t want the conversation to stall before it even got started.

“Yes. Even my swim shorts are packed.”

Jean-Paul in swimwear would likely be a sight to behold. He let his mind wander down that path for a moment, but it wasn’t long before it had veered off the path, and he was seeing the Frenchman in the buff, the dark hair on his chest and abs a stunning contrast to his pale skin. Cam recalled the happy trail that ran beneath the waistband of his boxers down to a cock he suddenly wanted to feel the weight of on his palm and on his tongue again.

Blinking to bring his focus back to where he was instead of where he wanted to be, he hunted around for something to say to completely distract him from his suddenly randy thoughts.

“What are you thinking about?”

He looked up sharply at Jean-Paul’s question. “Why do you ask?” He hadn’t said anything aloud...had he?

“You are blushing.”

Shit! “You must be mistaken. I’m fine.”

He moved, trying to be subtle about it, so he was less in the light than before. Jean-Paul’s smirk told him he had been caught.

“I am not mistaken, mon ami. You can tell me...what naughty thing made you go red in the face?” He waggled his eyebrows, making Cam laugh despite his discomfiture.

“What makes you think it was ‘naughty’?” He put air quotes around the last word.

“You forget I know what you look like when you are aroused and thinking dirty thoughts.”

He sipped some wine and put some salad into his mouth, chewing slowly and licking the drop of dressing off his bottom lip, making Cam groan. His cock, which had been behaving before, was now hell-bent on making him crazy. It was plumping up nicely inside his shorts, jerking at the sight of Jean-Paul licking his lips. Thank God he couldn’t see past Cam’s chest.

“I was just imagining you in swim shorts.” Not the whole truth, but close enough.

“I will send you a picture, if I am able to make use of them.”

“Something to look forward to, then.”

Cam sipped more wine, feeling suddenly bereft. Would they still be able to stick to their routine? He wanted to know, but didn’t feel up to handling an answer he didn’t want to hear. He temporized instead.

“What time’s the flight?”

“Six in the morning.”

Cam’s eyes widened. “Guess we’re not spending four hours on Skype tonight. How long a flight is it?”

“About eight hours, including a layover.”

“Well, I hope you have a good time, even though it is a work trip. Consider it a businessman’s holiday.”

He raised his glass to Jean-Paul, who returned the cheer with a murmured “Santé!”

“Chin chin!”

They ate mostly in silence after that, though Cam noted that Jean-Paul didn’t appear to have too much of an appetite.

“You all right there, my friend?” He cast a worried eye over his friend.

Jean-Paul straightened, and Cam could almost see the mask slide over his face. “Of course I am. Why do you ask?”

Something was definitely up and he wanted to insist that Jean-Paul share whatever was bugging him, but he held off. Their conversations these past three weeks had been friendly...about his new job, about the kids Jean-Paul had met over the summer, about the initiatives Jean-Paul and his team were working on. Cam had even spent an evening sharing stories about his parents with him, stories which had made him laugh so hard Cam had seen the tears roll down his cheeks.

The one thing they had not talked about was their one-night stand. It was as though it had never happened, even though Cam had seen the flare of interest in Jean-Paul’s eyes that one night before they had set up a routine, when he had called just as Cam came out of the shower. He hadn’t wanted to risk Jean-Paul hanging up, so he had answered with just a towel wrapped around his hips.

The memory of Jean-Paul’s reaction was still sharp...a sound almost like a gasp had escaped his lips, and he had tried to disguise it as a cough. Cam had chuckled and winked at him, letting him know he had heard it, before asking him to wait while he got dressed. He also remembered wishing Jean-Paul had begged him to stay like he was. They hadn’t talked about that moment, either. Maybe he could do that now. Teasing Jean-Paul might help him get out of his head long enough so they could enjoy the rest of the time they’d be spending on the phone.

“Maybe because you look like you’re trying to hide something from me. You know, like that ‘cough’ the time you caught me coming out of the shower?”

Air quotes around “cough” and a sly grin might be just what the doctor ordered as Jean-Paul chuckled.

“You know you are ridiculous, don’t you, Camden?”

“Made you laugh, though.” And boy, did he feel good about that!

“You make laughing easy, mon ami.”

Which was nice and all, but it only served to emphasize how stilted the conversation was becoming. He needed to stop that in its tracks.

“Seriously, though, if something’s bothering you, maybe I can help?”

Jean-Paul sighed deeply and looked him square in the eye. “Thank you, Camden, but it is nothing, I promise you. I am just tired. It has been a long week, and I would have preferred to sleep in tomorrow morning.”

“I hear that. Weekend morning sleep-ins are my favorite thing. After…”

Cam stopped speaking. What he had been about to say would make things even more awkward if Jean-Paul wasn’t interested in rehashing the past.

“After what, Camden?”

No time like the present to talk about what he’d been wanting to talk about for weeks, right? After all, Jean-Paul had asked!

“After sex.”

“Not having any of that lately?”

Although he kept his face expressionless, Cam heard the note in Jean-Paul’s voice that told him he wasn’t as disinterested as he wanted to appear. He did a triumphant mental fist pump, and kept the accompanying satisfied grin off his face.

“Are you?” He wasn’t about to share any confidences that wouldn’t be returned, despite Jean-Paul’s apparent interest.

Jean-Paul waited so long to answer that Cam thought he wasn’t going to. Was Cam mistaken about his reaction? Should he give up trying for anything further? When Jean-Paul spoke, he relaxed, more relieved than he could say.

“I haven’t had the pleasure since you were here. No one else has caught my eye.”

Was that color he could see riding up Jean-Paul’s cheekbones? It was endearing and as hot as fuck, and Cam wanted to reach through the screen and kiss the shit out of him for being so adorable. Pity he had to make do with being equally honest.

“I guess we’re in the same boat, then.” Cam paused for a moment before asking the question he had been wanting to ask since he’d left DC. “If it was such a pleasure, why did we stop at one night?”

Another agonizing pause was Jean-Paul’s immediate reaction, but Cam took hope from the fact that his reaction to the previous question had been exactly the same. He had waited before answering and what he had said was what Cam had wanted to hear. Maybe he’d win again? He would wait. He had nothing but time.

“I was feeling vulnerable, and you were feeling sympathetic. That wasn’t a good reason for repeating it.”

Cam still waited, not willing to believe Jean-Paul was done with his explanation. He had known Jean-Paul needed the sex to help him forget, and Cam had willingly supplied it. The possibility that he thought he had just been a pity fuck, though they hadn’t actually fucked, had never crossed Cam’s mind, though. He wanted to deny it, but truth was, aside from his own unrelenting lust for the man, he had been willing to go the distance with him because he felt sorry for his loss and loneliness. He hadn’t thought of it in that way until now, and he could see how that might be a turn-off for a guy like Jean-Paul, who was so very dignified and reserved. The last thing he would want was anyone’s pity.

“I am vain enough to want you to be with me because you want me not because you pity me.”

There was no way to miss the raw honesty in Jean-Paul’s eyes that echoed the words he had just spoken as he waited for Cam’s response. And there was no reason for Cam to be any less honest in his reply.

“We’re both old enough to know what we want. Don’t apologize for that. And in case you’re still wondering, I like the guy you let me see for a week in DC. I like him a lot.”

A slow smile spread across Jean-Paul’s cheeks. “The feeling is mutual, Camden.”

“That’s good to know, because I want to keep what we have going. If that’s okay with you.”

No use in beating around the bush any longer. He wanted more with Jean-Paul. Maybe they could become more than friends. Maybe they could try for being lovers again, though he wasn’t sure how that was going to go, since they lived far enough away from each other that being together in the flesh would be a challenge. Not to mention when Jean-Paul returned to France. He wouldn’t think about that now. That was a bridge too far for the moment.

“It is okay with me, also.”

Feeling more confident than he had before, Cam asked, “So, we still on for dinner while you’re away?”

“I will let you know my schedule once I arrive tomorrow. I doubt I will be able to do more than send you a text message, but I should know where I’ll be expected to be for dinner every day by Sunday.”

“Fair enough. I should let you know that next Friday I’ve promised to go out for drinks with my colleagues. A command from on high, sort of.”

“You don’t sound too thrilled about that.”

Jean-Paul was obviously curious, so Cam explained about the principal’s invitation to drinks after work.

“I figure it’s in my best interests to play the team game every once in a while. Keeps the natives happy and off my back the rest of the time. Although, to be honest with you, I don’t really know if it’ll work with my principal.”

“Why would it not? You can be quite charming.”

Cam grinned, pleased at the compliment. “I’m not sure what her deal is, but she treats me differently from the rest of the staff.” He went on to explain how she addressed him, and that he had discounted it being because she was homophobic. “It’s a real puzzle.”

“Well, perhaps you will discover why she does that when you go out for drinks next week.”

“Maybe. You’re right...maybe a few drinks will loosen her up enough so if I ask she will say why. Assuming I ask, of course.”

Jean-Paul chuckled. “You don’t care to know?”

“Not really. I mean, she doesn’t mistreat me. It would just be nice not to be singled out like that all the time. As if I’m the black sheep of the family...you know, the bad seed always in trouble.”

He laughed as he said it, realizing as he talked to Jean-Paul that he had never mentioned it to anyone before this moment. Apparently it bothered him more than he realized, and it took talking to Jean-Paul to bring it out.

“I’ll let you know what I find out next Saturday. Are we on for breakfast, since dinner on Friday evening is out?”

“It’s a date.” Jean-Paul’s smile went all the way to his eyes this time, warming Cam from the inside.

It occurred to him then that they needed to go on an actual date. This chitchatting on Skype was more than old now, and since they had established they each wanted more, it was time to kick it up a notch. Maybe he could have Jean-Paul visit him. He’d think about it and figure out a time before saying anything. Better to be ready with answers to all possible objections before, and he was good at that. He had no problem pushing the agenda now that he knew Jean-Paul was on board. A spike of excited anticipation pierced him, sending heat flooding into his system. He was ready. Jean-Paul had better be as well, because Cam was a storm building in intensity, and nothing was going to stand in his way.