My Professor's Secret

48|

forty-eight

The rest of the play was near impossible to get through, while thoughts of the worst scenarios swarmed my mind—yet we made it out unscathed. Our play received a standing ovation despite our few mishaps with people slipping on their lines. To add a cherry topper, I'd been approached by two agents scouting for their next upcoming actress. So many accomplishments—yet I'd been too fixated on if the dean had opened his emails yet and what consequences he had in mind to punish us. After the curtain close, Trevor instructed the entire cast to stay behind. Watching all the side conversations erupt with excitement about our performance was bittersweet. It was amazing. The stage was freeing, and despite all the drama leading up to this day, I would miss the time I spent with the cast.

My eyes scan the room looking for Trevor, but I lock eyes on Wyatt instead. He'd been huddled in a corner by his lonesome with a face of pure defeat written on every inch. Every nerve ending in my body urges me forward, but there isn't a slither of movement that comes from my efforts. Perhaps there never would be again. I'd messed up beyond anything I'd ever done before, and I had no way of knowing how to fix it that didn't involve losing one or both of the two people I genuinely cared about.

"I'm impressed," Professor Thornton says as he barges from the stage. "The way you all captured the audience the entire time says a lot about the work you put in to bring this story to life. Although the semester has ended, I encourage all of you to consider returning to the arts with my advanced class next semester. If you enjoyed being on stage for this play, I guarantee you don't want to be left out of the next one. With that being said, this was the last of our time together. Be sure to watch for your final grade, which will be submitted to your email this weekend. Take care, and enjoy your break. You're dismissed.

When Trevor utters our dismissal, I waste no time scurrying to the exit for a clean break. There was no point in sticking around. My brother was hounding me, Wyatt's suspicions, Trevor's paranoia. Even home seemed like the absolute last place I wanted to be. Not when I'd been withholding information from Taylor for months that I knew I couldn't keep to myself any longer. As much as I dreaded admitting it, our discretions would now be amusement for everyone to gawk over and make assumptions about how our involvement came to be. If that was the case, the only thing to make the situation mildly less shocking was coming clean before I could be exposed. All the while, with the weight of my actions weighing me down, home is the only place my feet lead me. When I finally make it to my dorm, I'm alone, and I don't bother to hold in the sigh of relief that escapes my mouth. Being alone with my thoughts was how I could dissect the situation in its entirety instead of panicking and responding to it with emotions.

First things first, get a full understanding of the university's code of conduct for relationships between employees and students. I should have looked into the information months ago, fully aware of the negative connotation a student/teacher relationship holds in the public eye. Now it's me who has to desperately rummage through our packed totes for my other backpack, which likely held the booklet cramped at the bottom.

An entire unpacked tote and a half and, sure enough, crumpled to death is the booklet Presley gave to me on my first day. A quick skim of the universities policies, listed underneath, were actions punishable by expulsion—the majority of everything that had or was taking place on campus had gone unnoticed or turned a blind eye. Parties on school grounds, stealing, drug and or alcohol use, violation of civility, possessing dangerous weapons, fraternizing with professors or teachers assistants outside the lecture hall or off campus without documentation and the dean's approval. Intimate relations with employees and students. The list continued but the longer it ran on, the elephant on my chest became a tad lighter.