My Professor's Secret

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fifty

When morning arrived, it felt as if I hadn't gotten a lick of sleep, and I can almost guarantee that is because I couldn't stop thinking about the look on my Dad's face once he realized I wouldn't be there. As much as I wish this debacle with me and Trevor was the only reason for my absence—I couldn't help the sense of relief not going brought. I was petrified of what might be left of him. I couldn't bare to see the look in his eyes once he realized his attempt to end his life had failed. The thought of carrying the guilt that came with it wouldn't be easy to recover from. He'd need a lot of support to get through this recovery period.

After an intense mental battle of turning over, I notice Taylor's empty bed. Since today was the last official day of classes, I knew she'd be up early to attend. Without her here to spark conversation, I'm left to continue spiraling in my mind. I was still left to think over what would come of that email Wyatt sent the Dean. Surely he had read it by now. It was only a matter of time. That's why I couldn't sleep last night. I've rubbed the slither of sleep from my eyes in reach of my phone. If my calculations were correct—which they usually are—and Christian only stopped a few times along the way, they should've made it to Dreycott by now or not too far out.

I'm bothered by the blank screen staring back at me. Was Chris upset enough to keep my father's recovery to himself? Whether he agreed or not was the least of my concerns. There was no time to dwell on the semantics with Christian when more important things were on my mind like how I'd make it up to my father once my situation was under control. For the time being, I have a shower then change into a pair of leggings, a cropped tee, and a pair of gym shoes to start moving boxes to the new dorm room. Since Taylor had to be in a lecture, and I had time to kill, I load both of our things on the bellman cart and down the hall. Luckily by the time I've made it down with our things, Presley is already waiting with the keys. It takes three trips to get everything moved over.

Presley sticks around for roughly fifteen minutes helping me move boxes into the room. It takes me thirty minutes to transfer everything from our old space to the new one, and once I'm done, I collapse on the bed and wipe the thin layer of sweat from my forehead. My break lasts two minutes before I've risen to my feet to marvel at the dorm, which unlike the last, has a proper bathroom—shower, toilet, sink. A microwave, a mini fridge, and a single stove burner. I've almost made my way into the bathroom when my phone rings.

Waiting for a call from my brother has left me on the edge, so I race to the countertop where I set it. My heart syncopates at the caller ID—Winchester University Administration. My mouth runs dry instantly, and the excitement coursing through me seconds ago dissipates as my finger hovers over the answer button.

"Hello, May I speak to Ms. Alexandrea Castillo, please?" The person pronounces my name wrong, but I'm too frightened by the masculine voice on the other end of the receiver that I refrain from correcting them. There was no need to speculate who it might've been calling from the Admins office trying to contact me.

"Speaking," I say, but the dryness in my throat barely manages to choke it out. I clear my voice immediately after.

Sure enough, the man announced his identity as Dean Pensky and requested my presents at his office, ending the call once I'd obliged. I didn't bother taking my car to the administration's office—because my emotions were eating me alive. A four-minute drive seemed too short to compose myself. Whichever form of transportation got me there with the longest traveling time appeared to be the only way I'd be able to prepare a speech to plead my case.

Yet, I'm amazed by how quickly my preparation during the journey here means nothing. Every word I'd rehearsed vanished when I wrapped my hand around the door handle. This was it. The Dean's secretary greets me with a smile that spreads from ear to ear as she motions me forward with her hand waving. The strength to return the gesture paralyzes me once we reach the Dean's waiting room. India—Dean Pensky's secretary points to the only vacant chair of the two outside his office. The other one sat Trevor.