Page 49 of Damaged Professor

Dylan’s shoulders bounce in a shrug. He admits, “I don’t know, but I’m done doing this. She’s not going to harass you again.”

“I don’t care about that,” I explain. “I don’t want the pictures to go somewhere that they shouldn't.”

“You’re a consenting adult,” says Dylan, picking the words out carefully. “And I have an excellent record with this university and with my studies. There’s no reason… There’s no reason that this should cause an issue, not really. If someone has a problem with it, then it’s going to be on their personal time. And I don’t mind dealing with people's shit, if it means that we still get to be together.”

“Really?” There's a note of wonder in my voice that I can’t quite shake.

He smiles at me. “Really.”

And then he leans in, and he kisses me, just once, just briefly, right there on my temple.

I smile up at him. “I was so worried about the pictures. About all of this—” From the moment Sara showed up, I thought that this wouldn’t be able to work. That we would have to put an end to it.

Dylan tells me, “You don’t need to worry anymore.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am.”

I know that Dylan will do everything that he can to settle this once and for all.

Because he loves me—and he told me so.

Chapter twenty-eight

Dylan

Alright.

I’ve played this game enough. Sara isn’t going away. And my brother was right. What is she going to really accomplish with all of this? We’re talking university here, not high school. There are plenty of instances where you can be totally professional about your relationships, no matter who they’re with. And this is one of those times. I’m a professional. I have a good history, and a lot of experience under my belt.

Even if someone at Princeton has an issue with it—not that I think anyone will, at the end of the day—there are still other schools I can go to, schools that would jump at the chance to hire me.

The next day, class is in session, just as usual.

Abby sits in her usual seat, looking nervous but happy. The coral-orange sweater that she’s wearing makes the green of her eyes stand out even more than normal. And Sara is in her usual seat too, watching me like a hawk.

Jokes on her though because she’s more like the pigeons out on the street. Irritating, but not something worth wasting worrying over. It’s just a shame that it took me this long to realize that.

Now that I have, though, I refuse to let it get even more out of hand.

So I teach my class, the same way that I would on any other day, and I let it dismiss just like any other day, too. Abby is one of the first students out, giving me a look that’s somewhere between reassuring and concerned.

The rest of the students file out after her, a crowd of people, and somewhere in the middle of them is Sara, too. I don’t linger, closing my classroom without even going through the papers that have been left on my desk.

I’ll have to come back and finish my work later, but right now, there's something more important that needs to be done. I make sure to lock the door behind me before I go, so there's no chance that any students can get in there and rifle through shit. But outside of that, this is a drop and go moment.

I didn’t know Sara’s class schedule, but I did ask Abby about it. Her next class is on the other side of the campus building, a statistics class run by Henry Abbot. I head that way, keeping an eye out for where she might have gone.

There! She’s not moving fast, clearly having no real reason to rush between classes. I don’t call out to her right away. Even though we need to have this conversation, I don’t want other students around for it.

Once I know that we’re in a stretch where it’s just us, I call out, “Sara!”

She turns to look at me, and her whole face lights up. “Oh! Professor! Did you—need me for something?”

There’s something undeniably precocious about the way that she says the last few words, as if she genuinely thinks that her attempt at blackmail might have resulted in her getting things her way. She looks at me with this flash on her face that’s just purely pleased, bordering on being smug.

“Yes. Can you step with me for a moment?” I latch on to the nearest empty classroom, leading her in there. With any luck, there won’t be a class filing in for a while.

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