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Caught between her parents. Living life on her terms.
I wanted to know more.
Needed to know.
Twenty-Four
KC
The holidays were rapidly approaching. We were in the middle of finals for the semester. The population at the school swung a wide emotional pendulum between meltdown and slap happy. I’d actually spent two hours talking Sydney down from the idea she was failing everything because she got a ninety on a paper instead of a perfect grade.
I thoughtIwas hard on myself. I’d spent half a night and two pints of ice cream in her suite while we talked it out. She seemed in better spirits when she left, and I needed a run from the bloated feeling.
What I thought was just the ice cream proved to be my period, debuting a week early. Stress sucked. The cramps were hell. I had supplies, but I didn’t keep them in the bathroom. Jonas and I had developed a rapport, but that was just a little too personal.
The fact it started while I was in class sucked. At least it wasn’t still my birthday. I made a dash back to the suite. Tampons were in the closet, and it took me almost no time to get changed.
I checked two different bags, but there was no Midol in either one. Great, I’d managed to not restock. Stupid, KC, stupid. After checking my tie and pulling my coat back on, I headed back out and down the stairs. I was going to be late to class, but I’d rather be late than messy, thank you very much.
My luck ran out just three steps from the door to the literature class. It opened, allowing one of the administrators to exit the room. Beyond him, I could see Ramsey standing there where he’d been conducting class, his expression neutral if guarded.
“Miss Crosse,” the man said…what was his name? Mr. Robin? Robinette? Roban? Something with an R.
“Sir?” I went for polite.
“Don’t worry about the tardy or the absence. Neither will be counted against you.” The door closed behind him, cutting off my view. “If you’ll come with me.”
Come with him?
“Am I in trouble?” Academic probation the previous year had sucked, but I’d busted ass all last year and into this one to stay as ahead as I could. I was carrying straight As at the moment, and I had a bet with Bronson I could beat his senior year GPA. So far, I wasn’twinning, but I wasn’tlosingeither.
“Not at all, Miss Crosse. The dean and I have some questions for you. We can contact a parent or guardian if you prefer, so they can be present.”
Alarm bells went off, but I re-shouldered my backpack. “I’m eighteen.” I was emancipated before then and more than capable of negotiating for myself. We also had a manager, an attorney, an agent, and reps from the label if we ran into issues we couldn’t handle. “Although I’d like to keep this brief and not miss my other classes.”
“Absolutely,” he said, motioning for me to take point. The walk took us from the academic building to the administrative. With—yeah, I still couldn’t remember his name—escorting me, we were in the dean’s office in minutes.
“Miss Crosse,” the dean said as he stood and extended his hand.
Dean Mayfair shook my hand briefly. “I am sorry we had to pull you out of class, but the board has been meeting and after some serious consideration, I wanted to meet with you personally before we proceed with any action.”
Lowering my backpack slowly, I raised my eyebrows as I sat, and he resumed his. My escort did not sit down but stood near the wall like he would be here to witness the conversation but not participate.
Yeah, that wasn’t weird at all.
The earlier alarm bells were back and raising a cacophony. “What is this about, exactly?” Because right now, I was wondering if I should be getting an attorney or at least another witness. Business meetings that began with vague premises were never a good idea.
“Straight to the point,” the dean said. “I respect that. This is regarding a recent article written about you that included some rather…invasive photographs.”
The birthday girl and the stepbrothers bullshit. I said nothing; better to give no comments than confirm anything. He gave me a moment, but I waited for him to finish.
Sitting forward, he opened a file folder and laid out printouts of the online article and all the fun photographs. The last one, of course, was of me and Ramsey, where we were kissing.
Fantastic.
“You have seen this?”
“I have.” Admitting to seeing the article wasn’t a confession of anything. “I’d recommend against following the gossip sites. They generally have nothing good to say.” About anyone, for any reason. Negative news and clickbait were their bread and butter.
