“Bad.”
“Have you seen them?”
“Yes, when the dean called me in to discuss what had happened, he asked if I wanted to see them, and I said yes,” I confirm. Though I wish I hadn’t.
The pictures were incredibly intimate. Summer straddling me, us kissing, Summer topless, bare back exposed. Anger boiled in my blood just thinking about how someone had not only seen Summer in such a compromising private moment, but had also decided to take photos of it and share them with the administration.
Why?
Obviously, someone out there wanted to punish one or both of us.
A disgruntled student, perhaps. I try to think back to all of my students’ grades from last semester. Had anyone failed? Or just barely scraped by? I don’t remember anyone doing that poorly. I normally request to schedule a meeting with any student who is struggling significantly.
Juliet sighs, and even though I can’t see her, I can picture her expression vividly. She’s probably clutching her phone close to her ear, with her eyes shut, and biting her bottom lip. I can tell by that one sigh that she has no idea what to do from here, but that this was something she had worried about from the start.
“What are you going to do?” she whispers.
I shake my head and run a frustrated hand down my face. “I don’t know.”
“Have you spoken to Summer about it? Does she have any sort of plan?”
“I told her to expect a meeting with the dean, but I haven’t seen her since.”
“What do you mean? You haven’t talked to her since dropping this bomb on her?” Juliet demands. “Asher,” she groans, the disapproval evident in the tone of her voice.
“It hasn’t been for lack of trying!” I say, attempting to defend myself. “She hasn’t responded to any of my messages.”
“She’s ignoring you?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“I know I don’t know her… but that doesn’t seem like her,” my sister responds hesitantly, as if she really can’t believe that Summer—a girl she met once—could go dark on me. My heart warms at my sister’s gut reaction.
“It doesn’t,” I agree. “I think she might just need some space to brainstorm some sort of solution.”
“Do you think there is a solution?” she asks.
I let out a frustrated moan and resist the urge to slam my fist against my kitchen counter. I curse before replying. “No. Not any good solutions anyway.”
I drop my phone onto the marble countertop with a clatter, then lean heavily against it, hitting the speaker. I scrub my hands over my face, forcing down the urge to yell at this entire situation.
Realistically, what optionsdoSummer and I have?
We break up—which isn’t something I even want to consider.
Summer leaves the program, which I would never forgive myself for letting her do.
Or.
“I think…” I say slowly, not wanting to admit it out loud, but knowing it’s the least painful option we have. “I think I have to quit.”
“Oh, Asher,” Juliet says, drawing the words out. I can tell without seeing her how upsetting the idea is. “But… you love your job.”
“I do,” I agree. “But I love her more, Juliet.”
Juliet lets out a long exhale of breath. “I want to tell you not to risk your career for a girl that you haven’t been seeing for very long, but that’s so damn romantic.”
I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me. “Very grand gesture, huh?”
