Page 31 of Prickly Romance

She turns sharply. “Follow me.”

I let my bag slide down my shoulder and tip my head to the ceiling. I have a really bad feeling about this.

* * *

“Come in. Come in. Have a seat.”The dean waves me forward. “Coffee? Soda? A little something to wet the throat?”

Ew.“No, I’m good.”

He bobs his head. Dean Ferguson is a short, portly man—exactly what one would expect in the administration of academia: faded, brown jacket, balding head, wrinkles from years of breaking up catty, inter-department fights and meeting the needs of pushy parents.

“I checked and you don’t have another lecture until this afternoon.” He rounds his giant desk that’s cluttered with files, binders, and family photographs. “I planned to ask Mr. Howel to let you out early because I just couldn’t wait to speak to you. I’m glad we were able to nab you without issue.”

“Can I ask what this is about?” I remain standing at the door.

He motions me forward. “Sit. Sit.”

I dig my fingers into my backpack and approach the chair tentatively. It’s one of those tall, wingback chairs that are more about looks than comfort. I squirm, trying to find a good position. After a few seconds, I give up and sit with my back ramrod straight.

The dean folds his hands together. “Dejonae, you have been an exemplary student during your three years with us. I understand that, on top of your scholarship, you also worked part time at a café near the university?”

“I did,” I say warily.

“Exemplary. Truly. So many young people choose to blame their circumstances or their environment for their lack of productivity and bad choices. It is so inspirational to see someone like you take the opportunities given and make something of it.”

Is that supposed to be a compliment?“What do you mean someone like me?”

“I just meant,” his mouth opens and closes, “someone who receives financial aid.” His cheeks turn blotchy. “Truly, Dejonae, I meant no disrespect.”

He looks genuine and I realize I might be on edge thanks to Taylor’s interrogation. I relax a bit. “You still haven’t told me what this discussion is about.”

“Right, well, I have very exciting news. The timeline for your graduation project has been tweaked. Rather than waiting until the end of the year to receive your credits, you may be awarded in early spring.”

“Are you kidding? That’s fantastic! But… how? I thought our final grades would be decided at the end-of-the-year concert? I’ve been researching my thesis for months.” I think about my time in the library this morning. “I actuallyjustsettled on the direction of my report.”

“You submitted a general thesis outline already, correct?” He flips on his glasses and shakes his mouse to wake up his hibernating computer.

“Yes. I chose the topic of music and the deaf community.”

“I see that here.” He whips off his glasses and a giant smile crosses his face. “Well, this is just perfect. Since your thesis is such an impactful one, we’d like to make a special provision for you.”

“What kind of provision?” I break out into a sweat.

His ruddy cheeks gleam. “After much deliberation, the final grade for your end-of-year project will be decided by none other than…”

My heart starts racing.Don’t say it. Don’t say it.

“… Mr. Ryotaro Sazuki.”

“I object!” I bounce out of my chair as if my legs are made of springs.

The dean looks around. “Miss Williams, this isn’t a courtroom.”

“Why is Sazuki deciding my grade?” I demand.

“He’s a decorated musician, descended from a family of musical legends. There is no one more qualified than Sazuki. And, to make the deal even sweeter, Sazuki has agreed to let you work closely alongside him at his foundation. It would be a paid internship position.”

I feel a clamp around my head and it just keeps squeezing and squeezing. So this was the real reason Sazuki came to my school. Cornering me on my way to class was just a torrid little bonus.

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