Page 144 of The Wrong Play

My breath stalled.

My skin felt too tight, too hot, too suffocating.

“No,” I said immediately. “I don’t—I don’t need a tutor.”

Dr. Morrison gave me a look—the kind that told me she’d already made up her mind, and my opinion on the matter didn’t count. “Given your academic record, this is non-negotiable. Professor Westwood has generously volunteered his time, and we expect you to comply.”

Non-negotiable.

I gripped the armrests so hard my nails bit into the fabric.

This wasn’t happening.

This couldn’t be happening.

I shook my head. “I—there are other tutors, right? The campus tutoring center, peer tutors, someone else?—”

Dr. Morrison’s eyes sharpened. “Professor Westwood is highly qualified, and as your professor, he is the most suited to help you succeed in this course.”

I couldn’t breathe.

I was trapped.

Caught in his web, exactly where he wanted me.

“You will attend your scheduled tutoring sessions,” she continued. “Failure to do so could result in an academic hold being placed on your account.”

Academic hold.

A polite way of saying they could block me from registering for future classes.

He had me.

I could see it now, clear as day.

Callum had backed me into a corner. He’d gone to the administration, played the concerned professor, and now he had complete control over me.

I wanted to scream.

Instead, I forced my face into something resembling compliance, because I knew how this game worked.

I had learned the hard way.

Dr. Morrison must have seen my acceptance because she nodded, closing my file with a crisp snap. “Good. You’ll receive your tutoring schedule by the end of the day.”

I stood, my legs barely holding me up.

“Thank you for your time, Ms. St. James,” she said, dismissing me like she hadn’t just handed me over to a monster.

I nodded stiffly, turned on autopilot, and walked out of the office.

I barely registered where I was going.

One second, I was pushing through the doors of the admin building. The next, I was standing outside, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

I needed air. I needed out.

I stumbled toward the nearest bench and sat, my entire body shaking.

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