Chapter 11

As it got closer to two in the afternoon, the inmates began leaving the library one after another, heading towards the factory area for their labor assignments.

No one noticed that someone had been sitting across from Caleb the entire time. This person neither read a book nor showed any intention of leaving. Once all the inmates had left the library, Marcus picked up a chair and moved to Caleb's desk.

With a pointed tone, he addressed Caleb, "Officer Johnson."

"Sit on the other side," Caleb responded irritably.

"I need to check the stock market," Marcus insisted.

Victor had actually agreed to let Marcus use a computer. Caleb had never seen such a ridiculous thing happen before.

There were various cables on the desk, making it inconvenient to turn the monitor around. Since Caleb had to ensure Marcus didn't use the computer for anything nefarious, he had no choice but to allow Marcus to sit next to him.

Since Caleb started working here, no one had ever entered his workspace, let alone touched his computer. Yet now, two large men were squeezed together in this cramped area. If Caleb wasn't careful, their knees would brush against each other.

They were too close—uncomfortably close.

Previously, there had always been a 26-foot-wide road between Caleb and Marcus. That road symbolized a safe distance, one that made Caleb feel secure. Now, there wasn't just a lack of a safe distance; they couldn't even maintain a normal social distance. They were entirely within each other's personal space.

God only knew how much Caleb wanted to throw Marcus out of his work area.

"Officer Johnson, what's this?" Marcus' voice interrupted Caleb's thoughts.

Following the other man's gaze, Caleb glanced at the computer screen. The cursor was hovering over the icon for software that, when opened, would display the surveillance footage from the recreational room.

"It's none of your business."

Caleb quickly snatched the mouse from Marcus, his fingertips brushing against Marcus' fingers and the back of his hand. The rough texture was a reminder of the wounds Marcus had sustained in the fight a few days earlier.

"Other than the stock trading software, don't touch anything else," Caleb ordered.

"Alright."

This time, Marcus took the mouse from Caleb, his palm brushing against the back of Caleb's hand. The contrast between their skin tones, one darker and the other lighter, surprisingly created a harmonious blend.

Caleb jerked his hand back as if he'd been burned.

At that moment, Marcus said, "You can start reading now, Officer Johnson."

"Didn't you want to check the stocks?" Caleb asked, a vein popping on his forehead.

Marcus turned to look at Caleb. "What does that have to do with me listening to you read to me?"

Caleb was seeing Marcus' eyes up close for the first time. The bright light from the window turned his pupils a light brown, just as Caleb had seen through the telescope when Marcus had stood by the second-floor window of his villa, drinking water.

Uncomfortable, Caleb quickly averted his gaze. He irritably picked up the book about strawberry cultivation techniques and began reading.

"Strawberries are light-loving plants. Insufficient light is not conducive to their growth. Strawberries thrive in cool climates. When the temperature exceeds 86°F and the sunlight is strong, it's necessary to shade them..."

While he read, something happened… Once, twice, three times.

Caleb couldn't take it anymore. He put the book down and glared at Marcus. "Can you close your legs?"

Their knees kept accidentally bumping into each other. Marcus didn't seem to care, but Caleb found it impossible to concentrate. His mind kept flashing back to the image of Marcus wearing shorts at home.

Sometimes, when Marcus sat cross-legged on his sofa, the hem of his shorts would ride up, exposing the strong lines of his muscular legs.

"Why should I?"

Marcus, predictably, didn't do as Caleb asked. His legs remained casually spread at a certain angle.

"Are you the king of asking questions?" Caleb snapped, growing impatient. "I said, close them. You're touching my knee."

Marcus glanced down at their knees, his gaze lingering for a few seconds.

He looked back up at Caleb, and whether intentionally or not, he asked, "I can't touch you?"

Caleb frowned, that uneasy feeling creeping back in. It was as if Marcus was teasing him with a cat toy. It wasn't enough to make Caleb angry, but he was persistently annoying, much like how the repetitive sound of a cat toy could be irritating.

"Of course not," Caleb said sternly. "I'm a correctional officer, and you're an inmate."

No sooner had the words left his mouth did Marcus' knee brush against his again.

On the verge of saying something harsh, Caleb took a deep breath.

Marcus suddenly raised his hand. "Hold still."

Before Caleb could react, Marcus' hand was already on his cheek, his thumb gently brushing the corner of his eye.

"There was a loose eyelash on your face," Marcus said, casually pulling his hand back as if nothing had happened. "Your lashes are really long."

His tone was as nonchalant as if he were commenting on the weather—completely ordinary, as if discussing eyelashes was the most natural thing in the world. But eyelashes weren't like the weather. They weren't something casually discussed with someone one barely knew.

Caleb blinked in stunned silence. By the time he regained his composure, his cheek, where Marcus had touched, was burning hot.

What was with this guy?

Caleb had encountered inmates who accidentally bumped into him, as well as those who did so on purpose. No matter the situation, he could always tell the difference at a glance.

Marcus was the only one Caleb couldn't quite figure out. If he was doing it intentionally, his eyes were too clear without a hint of mischief. But if it was unintentional, every little action of his seemed to invade Caleb's personal space.

After pulling his hand back, Marcus acted as if nothing had happened, his attention returning to the stock market trends on the computer screen.

Caleb didn't want to bring up the earlier conversation. He watched Marcus for a while before finally picking up the book again, continuing to read the characteristics of strawberries out loud.

Half an hour passed quickly.

Victor had allowed Marcus to stay in the library until two-thirty, which coincided with the stock market's closing time. Marcus used the library's extension phone to call Victor, offering a few buy-and-sell suggestions, then prepared to join the other inmates in the factory area behind the administration building.

"See you tomorrow, Officer Johnson," Marcus said as he stood and left the library.

Just as he was about to disappear through the doorway, Caleb couldn't hold back anymore and called out, "Marcus."

This time, Caleb didn't use his inmate number.

Marcus turned halfway, glancing back at Caleb.

"Was there really an eyelash on my face just now?"

Marcus chuckled softly, as if finally dropping all pretense, his eyes revealing a clear trace of amusement.

"What do you think?"

With those words, Marcus followed the correctional officer at the door out of the library.

Caleb closed his eyes and took a deep breath, barely resisting the urge to slam his fist on the desk. So, it had been intentional after all.

Some people replayed arguments in their heads after it was over, feeling a deep sense of dissatisfaction if they hadn't handled things well. Caleb felt exactly like that now. He hated that he hadn't seen through Marcus' intentions right away, letting the guy walk away unscathed after touching his face.

He should have grabbed Marcus' wrist the moment he reached over and cuffed him right then and there.

No, Caleb should have acted even sooner than that. The moment Marcus' knee brushed his, he should have taken out his baton and given him a good whack.

The more Caleb thought about it, the angrier he got. He finally grabbed a pack of cigarettes from his drawer and headed to the infirmary across the hall. The infirmary's windows faced the factory area behind the administration building. Unlike the library, this room had a small balcony where Caleb and Hector often went to smoke.

"What's up? You look pissed off," Hector said, lighting cigarettes for both of them and gently exhaling a cloud of smoke.

"Have you ever dealt with an inmate who just gets under your skin?"

Caleb didn't mention Marcus directly, mostly because he felt too embarrassed—he had just been played by an inmate.

"Of course I have," Hector replied. "That kid, Lucas, is one of them."

"Him?" Caleb gave Hector a sidelong glance. "You seem to enjoy the headaches he gives you."

Hector didn't respond further. He knew Caleb well enough to understand that when Caleb didn't want to talk, pressing him would get nowhere. The two of them smoked in silence, gazing out at the cluster of low buildings below.

Suddenly, someone emerged from one of the greenhouses in the agricultural area.

Caleb paused mid-drag and asked Hector, "What's that greenhouse used for?"

The library's windows overlooked the yard, so Caleb was well-versed in the inmates' relationships there, but he was less familiar with the layout of the factory area behind the administration building.

"Do you mean the one Marcus just came out of?" Hector nodded toward it with his chin. "That's the strawberry greenhouse."

Caleb was speechless for a moment.

So, Marcus really was growing strawberries.

Carrying a bucket, Marcus stopped at a waist-high faucet to fill it with water. The sun at three in the afternoon was at its fiercest, yet he showed no sign of irritation. He simply stood there, waiting for the bucket to fill up, occasionally wiping the sweat from his forehead with the rough work gloves he wore.

Caleb realized this was how he preferred to observe Marcus—from a safe distance. He could see every movement the man made, while Marcus remained completely unaware of his scrutiny.

In this comfortable state, Caleb's mind began to wander. He imagined what would happen if the faucet suddenly burst, drenching Marcus from head to toe. Come to think of it, it had been a while since Caleb had seen Marcus without a shirt on.

"Hey."

The sound of fingers snapping abruptly pulled Caleb out of his daydream. He turned to find Hector giving him a strange look.

"What?" Caleb asked.

"I've called your name three times."

"Oh."

Caleb glanced back toward Marcus, only to see that he had finished filling the bucket and was heading back into the greenhouse.

"What's going on with you?" Hector asked. "I know you—you're acting weird."

Caleb didn't respond. As Hector pointed out, he knew something was off with himself too.

"How about dinner on Friday? I'll bring a friend along," Hector suggested.

"Who?"

"The lawyer I mentioned before. The one I wanted to introduce you to."

Caleb grimaced, not eager to be dragged into one of Hector's matchmaking schemes. But whether it was guilt or just a desire to stop Marcus from affecting him so much, he hesitated for a moment before reluctantly agreeing.

"Fine."