They both shrug. “You won’t know until you try.” Kami gives me a sympathetic look, and I decide here and now that it’s worth a shot.
If it saves Grayson’s job, me, and us, it’d be perfect, but I know my parents’ connections can only go so far in a case this public.
The professor is always punished more than the student, even if the relationship is consensual. The only thing I can do is try to soften the blow.
I nod to both of my friends and pick up the phone.
“Hey, Pumpkin.” My dad’s cheery voice makes me tear up.
“Hi, Dad.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
EMMA
Kamila’s plan worked…kind of.
I’m sitting in the office of one of the many deans, waiting to hear what decision they’ve come to. The Dean of Students’ department is managing my side of the case, while the Dean of Faculty’s department is handling Grayson’s end.
My parents’ connections and donations helped move the investigation along quickly—specifically, a week and a half. That is, once it was clear that it was completely consensual, I wasn’t his direct student at any point during the semester, and we were first-time offenders.
God, that sounds dramatic for two consenting adults.
However, since we never informed any department head or dean, we still violated university guidelines. The article didn’t help either. It turned it into more of a spectacle than a regular case, with Grayson’s name plastered everywhere along with pictures of us. It annoyed the deans, but nowhere in the rules does it say I can’t be with him while writing an article about him for the school paper. Sure, it’s extremely frowned upon, and they probably would’ve gotten involved with theDriscoll Wolf Weeklyif not for my parents being who they are.
My parents.They were livid, worried, yet efficient and kind.They came to visit on the Tuesday after it happened. Words were exchanged, and I explained the situation, but it did not make them feel much better about Grayson. My father’s head looked like it was about to explode, and I kept my mouth zipped shut as they lectured me for an hour. Never once did they raise their voice, nor did they hesitate in doing everything in their power to keep me from getting expelled, but I could see the disappointment in their eyes, which was so much worse.
It wasn’t until the end of our conversation that I realized I never told them about the summer. For whatever reason, that softened them. As if knowing I met him before he became a professor here made a huge difference. What matters is that it made them feel better and freed me from another lecture.
I haven’t heard from Grayson. Nothing—no call, text, letter, or anything else.
I miss him.
I’ve been crying on and off. Sometimes, because of the paper and the hard work I put in that went to waste; other times, because of Grayson, even though he told me to wait for him. And other times, when I catch a student taking a picture or laughing at me.
I’m an emotional mess.
According to my parents, Grayson wasn’t fired, but he has one more meeting with a dean, just like me.
My head swivels to the door where Dean Lombardi enters and unbuttons his suit jacket as he pulls his chair in.
“Hello again, Ms. Brighton.” I smile, hiding the internal flinch at the use of the last name I haven’t become accustomed to, but that the higher-ups respect. “I know it has been a hectic ten days, so I’ll get to the point.” Nodding, I clutch the end of my blazer.Yes, I wore a blazer to look more presentable.Anything to help, right? “As you probably already know, you aren’t being expelled.” My shoulders relax a bit. I’d suspected as much. Still, I needed to hear it. “You will continue to be a student at Driscoll University, and as long as your editor is okay with it, you cancontinue to write for theDriscoll Wolf Weekly. However, I’m not sure when they’ll come to that decision.”
“What about my last name?”Please let me use Haywood.I love my dad, but I don’t want to get a job because of his name.
The dean smiles tightly. “As a student-run organization, it isn’t up to us.” I let out a relieved breath. “However.”So close.“We would recommend using another name, at least when it comes to your articles. Not only in the interest of the paper and university, but for you, Emma.”
He’s right. Amelia was right.
I need to write under that last name, and I can continue to use Haywood in social settings. It’s not an ideal choice, but this story was online, and the pictures were as well. I say “were” because Jake and whoever his guy is have managed to delete most of the photos from social media and websites, but screenshots last forever.
“Understood.”
“Good, now.” He takes a piece of paper from the thin folder beside him and slides it over. “There’s the matter of signing this agreement, and you are free to go back to finals week.”
This is news to me.I pick up the paper and read it carefully.
Initially, it’s a summary of what happened. It was consensual, I wasn’t his direct student, but we still violated certain rules, blah, blah, blah.
