Page 73 of Faking It with the Bad Boy

"Very thoroughly documented misconduct," he agreed, grinning. "With excellent attention to proper handling techniques."

The library door burst open before I could defend my organizational choices or possibly create new categories of academic impropriety. Mike entered, followed by what appeared to be half the hockey team and several museum volunteers. They all wore handmade buttons featuring crossed dental tools and hockey sticks, with "Team Sophie & Jack" written in questionable artistic style.

"Operation Save the Nerds is go!" Mike announced proudly.

"We voted to call it Operation Academic Freedom," Tommy corrected, adjusting his slightly crooked button. "Though personally I supported Operation Let Them Make Out In The Museum."

"Why are you all here?" I asked, noting with growing horror that some of them carried signs with terrible puns about love and medical history.

"Because," Mike said, producing a stack of papers that rivaled my own documentation, "we've got evidence. Every tutoring session when Jack helped us understand our assignments instead of pretending to be dumb. Every game where he quoted Victorian literature during plays. Every time he organized the team library by historical period and significance."

"Also," Tommy added, "we started a petition. Turns out people really support the bad boy hockey captain who secretly loves medical history and the museum girl who made himbrave enough to show it. Even if they sometimes violate proper preservation protocols in inappropriate locations."

"That was one time," I protested weakly.

"The security footage suggests otherwise," Mike said helpfully.

"There's footage?"

"So many videos," Tommy confirmed. "Though we're focusing on the academic achievements for the board meeting. Mostly."

Jack's hand found mine under the table, warm and steady despite everything. "See? We're not alone in this."

The Academic Standards Board room looked exactly like a Victorian operating theater, complete with rows of seats arranged for maximum psychological discomfort. Dean Williams presided from the center like a particularly stern chief surgeon, flanked by department heads who had probably never experienced moral turpitude in their lives.

"Mr. Morrison, Ms. Chen," Dean Williams began, her voice carrying the same warmth as a nineteenth-century surgical instrument. "We're here to address serious allegations of academic misconduct and inappropriate relationship dynamics within the mentorship program."

I started to reach for my carefully prepared defense, but Jack spoke first.

"With respect," he said, standing with the kind of quiet confidence that made him team captain, "the only misconduct here was pretending to be less than I am to fit everyone's expectations."

A murmur went through the assembled board members. Dr. Pierce, surprisingly, looked almost approving.

"Mr. Morrison," another administrator started, "your sudden academic improvement coinciding with this... relationship... raises concerns about-"

"About what?" Jack's voice filled the room. "About the fact that I enjoy learning and I can explain surgical innovations and score winning goals? That I fell in love with someone who made me believe I didn't have to choose between being smart and being an athlete?"

He's really doing this. He's really standing in front of the entire academic board declaring-

"Ms. Chen," Dean Williams cut in, "perhaps you'd like to address the issue of maintaining appropriate professional boundaries?"

I looked at my color-coded notes, at the careful documentation of every way this could go wrong. Then I looked at Jack, who had just risked everything to be exactly who he was.

"Actually," I said, standing to join him, "I would. I'd like to discuss the Victorian practice of forcing people into rigid social categories and how well that worked out for everyone."

A snort of laughter came from Dr. Pierce, quickly disguised as a cough.

"The mentorship program," I continued, gaining confidence, "is supposed to help students reach their full potential. Well, Jack's potential includes both hockey championships and an impressive knowledge of nineteenth-century surgical innovations. He can explain proper preservation techniques while maintaining a 3.8 GPA and leading his team to playoffs. And yes, somewhere between discussions of medical history and actual academic achievement, we fell in love. If that violates your professional boundaries, maybe your boundaries need updating."

The doors burst open with dramatic timing that would have impressed Victorian theater directors. The hockey team filedin, led by Mike and his questionable graphic design choices, followed by museum volunteers and what appeared to be half the student body.

"We have witness statements," Mike announced, holding up a stack of papers that had actually been organized by date and significance. "About Jack's real academic improvements. And yes - they're color-coded. Some of us have learned proper documentation techniques."

"And we have game footage," Tommy added, "showing how much better he plays when he's allowed to be himself. It turns out that quoting Victorian literature during plays really confuses the opposition. Also, we have several videos of them studying in the rare books section-"

"The academic evidence will suffice," Dean Williams interrupted hastily.

"But we made a highlights reel-"

---