Page 25 of Classroom Confessions

I wanted to ask about their night together. It was crude and ridiculous, but I wanted to know how she acted in bed. Was she quiet and demure like I’d first seen in class, or did she turn into the other version like the one who slapped me when I offended her?

A quick knock sounded on the outer door. “Professor?”

David and Cole shot looks at me, then each other as the dean marched into my office.

“Dean Scott.” I half-stood and stretched a hand over the desk. “Didn’t expect to see you today.”

Or any day, for that matter. Dean Scott preferred to spend his time in his big office in the main administrative building. The only times he'd ever deigned to walk the halls were when he’d encountered a problem. Even then, he tended to call professors and students to his office instead of hunting us down. This could only mean one thing.

David’s eyes bugged. He shot me an I-told-you-so glare and cocked his head toward Cole. “Would you like us to leave?”

“Stay.” Dean Scott slid his hands deep into his pockets. His shiny loafers looked out of place in my tiny office filled with old textbooks and reams of paper. “What I have to say concerns all of you.”

Oh, shit.

Dean Scott’s lined face pulled into a dark frown. He looked around almost like he expected to find us in the middle of breaking the rules. I couldn’t imagine this man as a young dean. He’d always be pushing seventy, white-headed, and sour around the mouth.

“There have been rumors about you three and a certain student.” His voice had the bite of censure and his blue eyes locked onto my face, looking for any crack in my armor.

I laced my fingers together over my stomach and rocked back on the chair’s squeaky wheels. “What kind of rumors?”

His frown deepened until his lips disappeared. “The kind that can get all of you fired. It’s been said, on more than one occasion, that a student by the name of Rebecca Roberts has been seen staying after class.”

“Are we not allowed to ask students to stay when they have a question or seem to be struggling with a part of the curriculum?” I put on my best confused face and kicked David beneath the desk.

The man looked guilty as sin. He quickly schooled his expression before the dean turned to him. “Rumors always circulate.”

“Yes, but these have been spoken often enough to cause concern. Did you or did you not ask her to remain after class on multiple occasions?” He swung his attention back to me.

“It’s difficult to recall.” I played off the whole thing like I barely knew who Rebecca was and hoped like hell that it worked. “I ask students to stay over almost every day. Some days, they have a question and I feel obligated as a professor to stay behind and try to help them understand the subject matter. It could be that she’s remained after class on a few occasions, but I can’t be certain.”

I was a damned good liar, but even I struggled to keep my face from betraying me every time I thought about her standing in front of me today. She’d called me out on my bullshit without hesitation or remorse.

“And you two?” Dean Scott pivoted to stare at Cole and then David.

They were the weak links in this chain. David especially. He hid his emotions well enough from women, but they were written all over him when faced with the dean’s intimidating stare.

“I’ve barely returned,” David started. He paused and rocked his head from side to side. “I haven’t had any students stay after class since my return. Maybe you should ask Professor Weatherly.”

Slick. Very slick. He’d diverted the attention to yet another professor. Weatherly was the quintessential history professor. He should have retired years ago but refused to give up his lectures, so he subbed when needed and spent the rest of his time in the library.

Dean Scott focused on Cole. “What about you? What excuses do you have?”

“None, sir.” Cole shrugged. “We’re professors. Sometimes, a student needs help. If that student happens to be female…” He shrugged again. “Should we tell them we can’t help because they’re the wrong gender? Not sure how well that would go over in today’s culture.”

Dean Scott’s cheeks reddened, the thin veins darkening across his forehead until one bulged. “I see. So all three of you swear to me that nothing has happened between you and this student.” It wasn’t a question. He wanted to hear us say the words.

I stood and held my hand over my heart. “I swear to you that we have done our best to uphold the campus’s policies about fraternizing with students. There have been no sexual encounters on the premises, nor will there be.” I’d hedged the truth a bit, but the core values were the same. My wording was what mattered. We’d done our best, and neither of them had sex with Rebecca on campus.

David tugged on his collar while Dean Scott continued to stare me down. “You both support Ethan’s claim?”

“Yes.” David and Cole answered in tandem, their voices quiet and borderline guilty.

I bit down the urge to continue to extol our innocence. Only the guilty found the need to be defensive. If we had nothing to worry about, we had no reason to continue this conversation. Dean Scott wanted an answer, and we’d given him one. He had the weight of the entire campus on his shoulders. I didn’t envy him the job and I wouldn’t make it harder on him.

“Fine.” Dean Scott’s shoulders relaxed, and he took his first deep breath since entering my office. “I’ll chalk this one up to beginning of the year rumors. We all know things get a little out of hand sometimes, so I need you to watch yourselves.” He pointed at each of us in turn. “You’ve been here a long time. I don’t want to see anything happen to you.”

It was true. We’d been professors for ages, and this wasn’t the first time rumors had come up about us. I’d turned down propositions from multiple students–male and female–through the years. It had always been easy to stay on the right side of the divide.

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