Page 50 of Damaged Professor

Once we’re in the room, I close the door. I’ve barely turned away from the door before Sara moves forward and is half on me. Before she can get that far, I snatch her hand and push it against her chest, pushing her backwards by a step.

“What are you doing?” She asks me, clearly offended.

I tell her, “We need to talk.”

Sara folds her arms over her chest, and cocks out one hip. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“You should have asked yourself that earlier in the year,” I tell her firmly. “I know that you sent Abby a threatening email.”

“Mhm.” Sara hums. “And the point that you’re getting at is…?”

“I know you think that you’re so smart, and that you could have found a way to get your grades up in my class without having to do any actual work, but that just proves you still have a lot of growing up to do,” I say, firmly. I push her back another step, and then back up myself. “And you should have realized that.”

“What are you doing? You realize that I have more than just those pictures, right? You two aren’t as subtle as you think,” says Sara, snottily.

I ask her, “Do you know what the term stalking means?”

Her mouth snaps shut, audibly. Then a look of anger creases her features, her brows pinching down and her nose wrinkling up. “Are you accusing me of stalking?"

“No, I don’t need to.” I say. “You admitted it yourself when you followed us and took pictures. That’s literally the description of stalking by the books. And even beyond that, you’ve been harassing another student.”

Sara opens her mouth to speak, but I don't let her get in a word.

I keep going, my voice deepening just a little, sliding into a stern tone that I rarely have to use—only when I’m really pissed, or the rare occasion I get to prove my brother wrong and tell him off for making a bad decision.

“I’ve already reported you to the dean of the campus for harassing another student. I’m sure that you’re going to hear from him by the end of the day. And I wanted the satisfaction of letting you know in person that I reported you for your harassment of Abby.”

Sara is just staring at me now, her mouth open and her eyes wide. She looks like I’ve slapped her. I give myself props for keeping the conversation perfectly professional and handling it in such a collected and thought out manner.

Because let’s be honest, having the chance to just grab her by the shoulders and shake her hard would be incredibly satisfying.

As it stands, I just keep going, dropping the final bomb shell for the conversation. “I’m sure that you’re going to find yourself in a lot of trouble for this. I can’t guarantee that he’s going to expel you, but I can almost certainly say that there’s going to be a suspension in your future. And I can tell you this. There’s going to be handcuffs in your future too, if you ever come near my home, or attempt to contact Abby again, because I have already filed a restraining order against you, and I will call the police next time. And while you can delete whatever pictures you have on your phone, you can’t delete the email that you’ve already sent to Abby. You’ve incriminated yourself with this.”

“But,” starts Sara, only to cut herself off. She doesn’t have a leg to stand on here, and she knows it.

But I do. I’ve done exactly as I said. I reported her to the dean for harassing another student, and I’m sure that punishment will be swift and severe. One thing about Ivy League colleges is the fact that they have great lawyers, but they also have excellent reputations. And they’re going to do anything that they can to protect those reputations.

The last thing that the dean wants is a student being harassed and opting to go to the press or the online media over the situation. It will be a confidential matter, handled discreetly. And if Sara wants any chance of being able to continue her education at Princeton, she’ll let this all end with grace.

And I meant what I say about the police, too. I won’t hesitate to call if she continues to harass us. I won’t let anything happen to Abby, and I won’t let some miserable bitch ruin the first good thing that’s happened to me in years.

But I also don’t have anything else to say to Sara, so I turn and step out into the hallway, leaving her standing there in the empty classroom. I go down the hall, as far away from her as possible, before pausing to loosen the knot of my tie so I can take in a deep breath, finally admitting to myself how stressful that entire situation was for me.

If I could just go home now and collapse in a heap, I would.

I’m smarter than that, though. I know that now that I’ve announced to the dean that I’m romantically connected with Abby, I must make sure that my lessons are impeccable, and that everything I do is by the books. So I go back to my classroom instead, sitting down behind my desk and beginning to do my work for the afternoon, confident in the fact that from here on out, it’s all going to be gold.

Chapter twenty-nine

Abby

IknowDylanhadplans to talk to Sara today about the way that she’s been harassing us, but I don’t know exactly what his plans involved. I was hoping to be able to stop by his house after I was done with my classes, but when Nichole called me needing someone to give her a lift home, my plans of seeing Dylan were derailed.

She had come out from work to find that she had a flat tire, and of course, after the ride home it turned into a longer visit, because I hadn’t filled her in on what happened after we parted ways at the club. Not in detail, at least. She wanted to know everything, and I wanted to tell her everything. We ordered some take out Thai noodles and the night just kept spiraling in girl talk.

By the time we are done and I’m about to head out, it’s ten minutes after midnight. The thought of calling Dylan just seems really inappropriate. Especially because I know he’s got a class in the morning. I don’t want to keep him up late. And I'm halfway terrified of finding out how it went.

Instead, I just head home and… Well, I don’t sleep. Mostly, I lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling, hoping that something will happen that will just make everything click into place. I do want to fall asleep, but I also want Dylan to call me, or… I don’t know. I want everything to just come into existence the way that it is supposed to.

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