“You both know why you’re here, hm?”Nope, not at all, we accidentally wandered in here for fun.I keep my sarcasm to myself and nod while Alfie continues his impression of a freakin’ thundercloud. The grandfather clock behind the dean’s desk ticks away, counting down the seconds until my dignity completely evaporates.
I smooth my white blazer for the third time, carefully arranging the sleeves. My hair is fine. My makeup is fine. Everything is fine.
I exhale, shoulders back, chin up.
“I think you should see this,” the dean says, turning his monitor toward us. The grainy security footage shows the geology building’s main hallway, dimly lit and empty until—oh God.
There we are, stumbling into frame. Past-me has Past-Alfie pressed against a display case, and even in black and white it’s clear we’re enthusiastically acquainted with each other’s mouths.
I sink lower in my chair as Past-Alfie lifts Past-me onto the case. It would all be quite past-sexy if I wasn’t watching it in the dean’s office.
I should be completely mortified. My brother’s best friend. A display case full of rare fossils. A kiss so reckless it set off a chain reaction—literally.
But as the footage plays, the only thing I can focus on isn’t the moment we got caught.
It’s the way he looked at me right before he kissed me. Like all his flawlessly maintained control was finally,beautifullyshattering.
“That display holds Charnia fossils that are over560million years old,” the dean says dryly.
“Excellentcraftsmanship on that case,” Alfie comments. “Very sturdy.”
I kick his foot. He coughs.
The footage continues, showing us disappearing off-screen. Moments later, the sprinkler system activates, drenching everything in sight.
Well,shit.
This was reckless. Stupid. Who doesn’t check for cameras? Who doesn’t think ahead? I’ve spent my whole life believing I was sharp enough to see through anything, and yet—Troy and Mom fooled me for years. Maybe theywere right. Maybe I am too soft. Too naïve. I think about the lie Troy and my mom kept from me. A protective lie, one they told because they thought I couldn’t handle the truth. My stomach knots as I stare at the screen. I never noticed the cracks in my perfect little world until they shattered it for me.
“Do you have any idea,” the dean’s voice drops dangerously low, “how many thousands of dollars worth of samples were destroyed?”
“We’re so sorry,” I say quickly, “but as you can see, we didn’t do anything to set off the sprinklers. It’s entirely a coincidence that?—”
“So, you maintain you were the only ones in the building that night?”
Alfie and I exchange the briefest glance. We’d agreed—no throwing Ethan under the bus. Not when he’s already on thin ice after nearly getting accused of plagiarism last year. “Yes,” we say in unison, probably too quickly to be believable.
The dean studies us for a long moment. “Well, I can’t definitively pin the water damage on you two. But breaking and entering school property?” He clicks off the footage. “That I can prove.”
“Well, I think this matter can be resolved quickly and painlessly.” He pauses dramatically, clearly expecting one of us to crack and confess. “Since the two of you maintain the notion that you were the only people at this little gathering—” nice way to put our make-out session “—I think we can forget this all happened with some community service.”
Wait, what?Community service? That’s it? Not expulsion, not academic probation, not a strongly wordedletter to my parents about their daughter’s complete lack of judgment?
He shuffles some papers. “However, should either of you fail to complete the required sixty hours by the deadline, academic probation will be enacted. Additionally, a note about this incident will be placed on your record.”
My stomach drops. That’s… bad. Really bad. Not just a slap on the wrist. Something that could actually impact grad school applications, internships, future job opportunities.
Alfie stiffens beside me. I chance a glance at him, but his expression is unreadable.
The dean continues. “This is a generous alternative to suspension, which was strongly considered.”
Well, that explains why the tension in my chest just tripled.
I nod enthusiastically.
“Here at UMS we’d rather have you help out the community than resort to any other sort ofarchaicpunishment right away. This is more of a delight than a punishment, hm?”
“Sixty hours over summer should do it,” he says, shuffling papers on his desk. “And it’s handy that there are two of you, since we have a buddy policy—nobody should be working alone. You two can work out between yourselves what times work best and talk to Janine about what needs doing. She’ll be your supervisor.” He peers at us over his glasses. “I don’t want this incident to go into the next academic year, and I suspect you don’t either.”
