Page 74 of Faking It with the Bad Boy

"Mr. Sullivan," Dr. Pierce cut in. However, she definitely fought a smile, "Perhaps we should focus on the academic achievements?"

Dean Williams looked at the growing crowd, then at her fellow board members. "The board needs to consider-"

"Consider this," Jack interrupted, his hand finding mine. "Every grade, every paper, every achievement is documented and legitimate. I worked for this - for my academic success, for my team's respect, for the right to be more than what people expected. The only thing I didn't work for was falling in love with Sophie. That just happened somewhere between dental tool assaults and late-night discussions about proper book-handling techniques."

"Very proper techniques, I assume?" Dr. Pierce asked dryly.

"The most proper," I assured her, ignoring the knowing looks from everyone who had ever caught us in the rare books section. "We maintained all appropriate preservation protocols."

"Except that time in the medical history display," Jack added helpfully.

"And the Victorian literature section," Mike contributed.

"And the"

"Thank you," Dean Williams interrupted firmly. "I believe we have sufficient evidence of their... academic dedication."

The board members exchanged glances. Dean Williams shuffled papers importantly. The crowd held its breath, though someone (definitely Mike) started humming what sounded suspiciously like "Can You Feel The Love Tonight."

Finally, Dr. Pierce spoke. "Speaking as someone who witnessed their... dedication to medical history firsthand, I move to dismiss all academic misconduct allegations. Mr. Morrison's work is clearly his own, Ms. Chen's mentorship was obviously effective if occasionally unorthodox, and their unprecedented relationship has arguably improved both academic and athletic performance."

"Seconded," called another board member, who I recognized as a regular at hockey games. "Though perhaps we could institute some guidelines about appropriate locations for... historical discussions?"

"All in favor?" Dean Williams asked, looking resigned to being part of what would undoubtedly become a campus legend.

The vote was unanimous, though I suspected some board members just wanted to end the invasion of hockey players wearing badly designed supportive buttons and carrying signswith medical puns that would have made Victorian doctors cringe.

"However," Dean Williams added as cheers erupted, "perhaps future mentorship pairs should maintain slightly more... professional distance?"

"Of course," I agreed solemnly. "No more Victorian medical practice discussions in inappropriate locations."

"Purely academic interactions from now on," Jack added, his thumb tracing patterns on my palm that suggested otherwise.

"And maybe," Dr. Pierce suggested with a poorly hidden smile, "we could install better security cameras in the rare books section? For preservation purposes, of course."

The celebration spilled out into the hallway, a mix of hockey players and museum volunteers united in victory. Mike had somehow produced champagne, though I decided not to question where he'd hidden it during the hearing. Tommy was teaching the team a chant that seemed to involve both hockey scores and proper preservation techniques.

Jack pulled me aside into a quiet corner that definitely violated several newly established guidelines about appropriate academic distance.

"So," he said, that real smile making my heart forget basic anatomy, "want to go study some medical history?"

"That depends," I replied, trying to maintain dignity despite wanting to kiss him in highly inappropriate locations. "Are we maintaining proper preservation protocols?"

"Always." His eyes held that dangerous mix of charm and genuine passion that had gotten us into this mess in the first place. "Though I might need some private tutoring on proper handling techniques."

"You're terrible."

"You love it."

"I love you," I corrected because some things were worth saying, even in semi-public spaces. "Even when you risk our academic careers with inappropriate historical discussions."

"Even when you assault me with dental tools and color-code potential disasters?"

"Especially then."

He kissed me right there in the hallway, ignoring the cheers and whistles from our assembled supporters. His hands were gentle on my face, like handling rare books or precious artifacts or something worth protecting despite all risks.

"Get a more appropriate location!" Mike called, but he was grinning.

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