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I clamped my mouth shut for the rest of the walk and disappeared into my class before he could say anything else to devastate me.
Abby, Kayleigh, and the D-named Pi Sig douche were at the front of the class setting up for their presentation. Since birds of a feather tended to flock together, the startup they were assigned was Oliver Bergen’s. Thankfully, he’d only been in the classroom that one time, but no doubt he’d be lurking around on Saturday during the alumni presentations.
I slipped into my seat beside Salvatore and elbowed him. “What are the chances this is a shit show?”
He snorted. “Compared to ours or the average project?”
I flipped my hair behind my shoulder. “Obviously, average. No one can compare to ours.”
He rubbed his chin like he was thinking about it then cocked his head. “By my calculations, the chance of this utterly sucking is seventy-three percent.”
I slapped him on the back. “Yes, Salvatore, I’m so proud of how I’ve corrupted you.”
He burst out laughing, earning us glares from D-douche and a catty little smirk from Abby. They could go fuck themselves on a rusty nail. Class hadn’t started yet. We were allowed to laugh.Humorless goats.
We did quiet down when class started, and Professor Seavers invited Abby, Kayleigh, and Dylan—Iknewit started with aD—to present. I wasn’t interested in Oliver’s business or anything the three of them had to say, so my mind drifted where it always went these days: Lachlan Kelly. A part of me wished I could forgive him and let myself be with him, but the part of me that had been hurt too many times just couldn’t do it. I refused to hurt myself again and again because I stupidly loved a man.
Sal made a strangled noise beside me, catching my attention.
“What’s up?” I whispered.
He nodded toward the screen at the front of the room. “It’s all wrong. Their projections for the business are based on a faulty formula.”
Narrowing my eyes, I peered at the numbers on the screen. At first glance, it was impressive. Oliver was doing well for himself with his real estate app startup, and he was projected to grow like gangbusters over the next five years.
Except…
I gasped. “Holy shit.”
“You see it too?” Salvatore leaned in closer to point out the faulty formula. The numbers didn’t make any sense. All their work was wrong, and it started at the beginning.
A heavy book slammed in the front of the classroom. I jerked upright. Professor Seavers had stopped the presentation and was glowering at Salvatore.
“Mr. Fox, would you care to share with the class what was so important you couldn’t give your classmates the courtesy of your attention?”
Salvatore’s face drained of color, and he croaked, but no words came out. I couldn’t stand seeing him like that, so I pressed my hand on his arm and threw myself under the bus.
“Actually, I was pointing something out to Salvatore about the math in the projections,” I said.
Seavers’ sharp gaze hit me like a laser. “Oh? I’d like to hear your observations, Ms. Sanderson.”
The trio of idiots tried to protest, but one hiss from Seavers cut them off, and all eyes were back on me.
To be honest, I didn’t understand exactly what Sal had explained to me—because math—but I had a steel-trap memory, so I recited his words as if they were my own. As I did, Dylan typed furiously on his computer, his brow pinched tight. Kayleigh looked like she was going to faint. Abby was over Dylan’s shoulder, jabbing her finger at the screen.
Professor Seavers folded her arms on her chest as she stared up at the screen, checking out the validity of Salvatore’s finding. After a minute, she turned to the presenters.
“It seems Ms. Sanderson is correct. Your projections are way off,” she said flatly.
Dylan shot to his feet. “We were given the numbers we based our projections on. That comes directly from Oliver Bergen.”
So, I wasn’t the only one being thrown under the bus. Either Oliver was shady as hell or Dylan had found a handy scapegoat for his incompetence.
“Be that as it may, I can’t allow you to be part of the event on Saturday unless you’re able to have this fully resolved and I have the new projections in my hands within the next twenty-four hours,” Professor Seavers told them. “Do you think that’s possible?”
Abby nodded vigorously. “We’ll take care of it.”
They were so distracted by their crisis, they didn’t even bother to shoot me or Sal dirty looks. When class ended, they booked it out of there, presumably for an emergency meeting with Oliver.
