My phone vibrates with an alarm I’d set to remind me to head back to the library to continue studying for finals. Playtime’s over.
I’ve kept my phone on silent the entire time to focus onappreciating my work. I’m about to press the do-not-disturb button when a flash goes off from the table across from me.
Confused as to who they were taking a picture of in my direct line of sight, I move my gaze upward, and the person quickly hides their phone while their friend keeps his up, with the camera aimed right at me. He waves, and I wave back, feeling extremely uncomfortable and still confused.
Gathering my things, I turn on my notifications, and my screen fills with dozens of texts and missed calls from my friends, along with a number I don’t recognize and three missed calls from Amelia.
I’ve only been here for an hour.What the hell is all of this?
Moving my thumb, I open the group chat and scroll past the question marks and exclamation points to find a picture that threatens to bring my drink back up. I drop my empty cup and cover my mouth, tears brimming in my eyes.
“No. This isn’t happening,” I whisper.
There, on my screen, lies a picture of Grayson and me kissing in the parking lot from last night. Our faces aren’t fully visible, but there are two more attached. One shows us talking and smiling, intertwined, our side profiles visible, and the most damning proof of all: him lifting me into his truck as I laugh, and he looks at me so adoringly that it makes my chest ache.
How many people have seen this? Why do my friends have it? How?—
Grayson.He hasn’t texted or called. What if he doesn’t know yet? I’d rather have him hear it from me, and oh God, how much trouble is he going to get into?
I fumble while dialing his number, but miss the chance when a call from Amelia comes in. I hesitate to not respond and consider calling Grayson instead, but if she’s calling, that means she knows.
I hear a click from beside me. Another student has their camera pointed at me.
“Fuck,” I mutter and gather my things, running out of thebuilding. It’s already dark, with the sun setting at five p.m. every day now, which makes it easier to hide.
Taking a deep breath, I answer the phone. “Hi, boss.”
“I’ve been trying to reach you for an hour now,” she grits out. “Where the hell have you been?”
I keep my tears at bay, my mind and body still out of sync. “I had my phone on do not?—”
“It doesn’t matter. Have you seen the pictures?”
Closing my eyes, I say, “Yes. I can expl?—”
“Listen to me.” Her voice is stern but no longer angry. “Go straight to your dorm room and do not answer any calls from local papers. If one does come through, hang up immediately. We’ve already received two, and I’m sure there will be more.” She sighs loudly. “You’re going to get a call from one of the deans, Emma.” The first tear falls as my chest begins to cave in. “I’m not sure what the protocol is here since you weren’t his direct student, but if you didn’t tell them, then you’ll most likely have to meet with them, and your relationship will be investigated.”
“How do you know all of this?” I sniffle.
Amelia clears her throat. “I’m good at doing the research when necessary. I got this position for a reason.”
I gasp as a thought pops into my mind. “Am I fired?”
She sighs once again. “You’re suspended for the rest of the semester.” I cover my mouth. I’ve really done it now. “Your article will be removed from the school website as well.” This time, I collapse onto the nearest bench, my knees giving out. All that hard work, just to be destroyed in an hour. “That said, this should blow over long before the spring semester starts, and since this is a student-run newspaper, it’s up to Oliver and me to decide what happens with your position here. After you meet with a dean in the Dean of Students’ office and they make their decision, we’ll decide ours.”
I fucked her over. I fucked myself over. I fucked the paper over.
“I’m sorry, Amelia.”
“I know,” she says sincerely. “I’ll ask Ben to bring you anything you might’ve left in the office.”
“Thank you.”
Amelia exhales softly. “There’s one more thing, Emma.”
My head drops. Whatever it is, it can’t make things worse. “Yes?”
“If you keep working on the paper, you’ll have to use a different last name.” She pauses, and my stomach sinks. “Your other last name.”
