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Decisions, decisions.
“The email that I sent you eight months ago. From my student account.”
“Again. What email?”
I lean forward. “Did you find a way to erase the email that I sent you with my original poetry in it, Professor? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Well, if you even think such a thing, then you must not be able to find this imaginary email, which you’ve concocted in your head.” He shakes his head at me. “Ruby, there never was an email. You know there wasn’t. You’re angry at me because you pursued a relationship with me, and I rejected you, and now you’re looking for any way you can to get back at me. You can see that my poetry book is getting excellent reviews, and you want to undermine my success. You know that’s true, right, Ruby?” His voice has gone all gentle and concerned.
It's mesmerizing, like listening to a hypnotist. Or a snake charmer. Except he’s the snake.
“I know you’re a sociopath.” I meet his gaze steadily.
“Ah, and now you think that you’re qualified to make diagnoses.”
“As qualified as you are to write poetry.”
“I can see now that I’m going to have to file a formal complaint against you, Ruby. I won’t let you destroy my life’s work with your lies. Now get out of my office, and don’t come back.”
“Gladly.” I stand up. “File all the fake complaints you want, but I wouldn’t get too comfortable, Professor.”
“Are you threatening me?” He raises his voice very loudly and glances hopefully out the door, but there’s nobody there to overhear him.
“Why? Do you feel threatened? A crowd of students just saw that girl jump off your desk, and they’re going to run and gossip to all their friends. And I’m not the only student with whom you’ve ended things on a sour note.”
“What? What have you heard?” His voice is sharp and nervous.
I nod in satisfaction. “Ah, so there have been others. More than five?”
He leaps to his feet, clenching his fist. “You can’t prove a thing.”
“More than ten?” Dear God. Thank heaven I wore protection when I was with him.
“That’s ridiculous,” he snaps.
“Between five and ten, then. Good to know. I don’t think you’re going to go file any complaints against me, professor, because if you did, I’d make a huge amount of noise about it, and then other women would start coming out of the woodwork.” I smile at him. “And this poetry theft? I’m not letting it go. Bye for now.”
I turn and walk out the door, and almost run right into Nick Ruckman.
“Hey,” he barks at me.
“Wow. You travel in flocks,” I say to him.
“Who does?”
“Pretty-boy assholes.”
He glances at the door with amusement. “Looks like you never learn.”
“Just wrapping up some unfinished business, not that it’s any of your concern. How’s your girl Becca? You saw how she dumped you the second she thought you were off the team?” I smile at him, and his face melts into a scowl. “That is going to be your life once the complaint against you is upheld, and it will be upheld. Gotta run now. Try to stay out of trouble, and professor’s houses, won’t you?”
I stroll off without looking back.
I make it all the way back to my room before I have to run into the bathroom and throw up.
I held myself together beautifully while I was in the professor’s office, if I do say so myself, but now that I’m alone, I’m shaking like a leaf and my bravado has leaked out like air from a balloon.
Is he going to go for a preemptive strike and file a false complaint against me? I really hope not, because despite my bluffing back there, I’d hate to have to go public.
