Chapter 37

ANYA

I somehow manage to take a quick shower before throwing on a pair of jeans and a tank top, then topping the outfit with an oversized hoodie. I reach campus in a dash, not even taking my backpack with me.

Study hours haven’t started yet, so the campus is emptier than usual, with a few students returning from the library or going toward it. Still, I cover half of my face with my hood, pulling it tightly over my head, knowing that I would be the subject of today’s gossip.

Not looking anywhere else, I head straight for the dean’s office, which is situated in the administrative building. The council always convenes in the conference room when discussing such matters. If they brought in Dimitri, he should be there.

My suspicions prove to be true when I spot him sitting on a bench outside the conference room. He is hunched over with his head bowed.

The very picture of him is broken.

He is in black jeans and a faded gray T-shirt that leaves his tattooed arms exposed. He doesn’t look like a professor at all, just a man who has been taken in like a criminal.

I drop the hood from my head, resting a hand on the glass door. “Mr. Rossi?” I call, stepping inside.

Dimitri’s shoulders tense, his clasped fingers clench until his knuckles are white, and then he looks up. His eyes are bloodshot, and it appears that he is holding back tears. “Good morning, Miss Renée,” he says with the tiniest smile, so unlike the one he gave me last night.

My feet carry me to him in four steps, and I drop beside him on the bench. We both stare at each other, our eyes asking questions about how everything just went downhill.

I want to touch his arm, but my guilt won’t let me. He is here because of me. It all happened because of me. “I’m so sorry. I… It’s…it’s my fault,” I stutter, my voice clogged from the sobs I am keeping in.

Dimitri instantly places two fingers over my lips, shaking his head. “Hush. It’s not. It was going to come out someday.” He drops his fingers suddenly, as if he just remembered where we are. “We both knew it would.”

After a moment of silence, I look at the shut double doors that rise high across the hall from us. The conversation inside could be heard but not deciphered, and from what I can gather, there is an entire community of people inside discussing Dimitri’s fate.

Nodding toward the doors, I ask, “What did they say?” I dare to caress his fingers this time, wishing I could lend him some comfort with my touch.

He takes and squeezes my hand. “I don’t know. They kicked me out of the council, for a start, and now”—he chuckles, perhaps to show me that it doesn’t matter much to him—“they are deciding what to do with me.”

“What happened? Who…who was behind this?” A surge of cold fury courses through me as I imagine someone intruding on our private moment like that. Whoever did it must have been keeping an eye on me. “They wouldn’t just fire you based on a picture, right?”

Dimitri stares at the doors like a broken man, like he knows the answer but is too grieved to tell me.

When one of the doors to the conference room opens, I immediately understand his defeated expression. Out walk Miss Winslow and Blake.

Just like his father, Blake looks to be in a state of disbelief. He sees me and freezes just as a rush of feelings steals the air from my lungs.

~He did this? How could he?~

Dimitri stands up as Miss Winslow glares at him. “They are calling you in.” She gives me a scrutinizing look as Dimitri hesitates to move.

Finally, he manages to shift his eyes to Blake. “You did good, son,” he says, not sounding insincere at all.

Blake looks away, his neck and face turning red as he fails to meet his father’s gaze.

“Dimitri, shame on you. Just couldn’t control yourself, could you? I mean, your son’s girlfriend, a student, someone half your age… This all could have been avoided if you had just listened to me,” Miss Winslow says, smiling widely despite the gravity of the situation.

~She’s loving this~.

This thought causes puzzle pieces to connect in my mind: she has always been a bitch to me, she is always fawning on Dimitri, and she has known about us since Dimitri saw me that first time in the club and made a scene.

~Oh my god.~

She is the one who sent the text to Blake that night! She is the one who told Dimitri to come to the party! So she must be the one who took and then uploaded the photo!

An angry rush of disgust for this woman builds within me, and I curl my fingers tightly.

“But,” Miss Winslow continues, “lucky for you, Blake is an honorable man. He has done the right thing by coming in and speaking the truth.” She gives a single nod of her head, smugness painted all over her face.

Blake, however, turns on her. “What? I didn’t ‘come in.’ You told me to come, said I had to or I would be kicked out of school. Just like you told me to come to the club that night.” He pauses before saying, “Yeah, that’s right. I googled your number—I know that was you.”

~I knew it. It ~was~ this bitch.~

Miss Winslow’s face grows pale before then turning red. She scoffs. “I’m not the one who is fucking your girlfriend, Blake. Don’t put this all on me.”

My anger comes to a boil, and I step toward her. “Why wouldn’t he put this all on you? Weren’t you the one who couldn’t take no for an answer?”

“You have some guts, Miss Renée,” she snaps. “You’re lucky Dimitri took all the blame upon himself, or else you’d have been expelled for such behavior. How many teachers are you even screwing?”

~Dimitri did what now?~

Completely ignoring her question, I whirl my head toward Dimitri, but he is already stepping in front of me, blocking me from Miss Winslow’s view.

His large body towers over all of us, and he is even more intimidating when he backs Miss Winslow against the wall. “Stay away from her,” he warns in a threatening voice. “Or I’ll forget you’re a woman.”

Miss Winslow’s lips open and close as her eyes grow wide.

I touch Dimitri’s shoulders and draw him back. “Dimitri, it’s okay,” I say calmly before turning to Miss Winslow. “And Miss Winslow, I feel sorry for you. For you to stoop this low for attention?” I tsk. “It must suck having no one give a shit about you. Classic narcissistic behavior.”

My verbal slap has just the impact I hoped it would.

She fumes visibly. “Go to hell.” She struts out of the hall, her ponytail swinging behind her.

Blake turns to Dimitri, his jaw clenched. “Thanks, Dad. You made my life even worse than it already was.” He shows not one but both middle fingers to his father before spinning around and walking off.

“Blake,” Dimitri calls to him, but he doesn’t stop. When Blake is gone, Dimitri breaks down, and the tears he was holding back slip from his eyes.

“You go in,” I say softly. “I’ll talk to him.”

Dimitri glances at the double doors with a pained look. His hands shake as he stands frozen, as if his feet are unable to carry him forward because something is weighing them down. “I’m scared, Anya,” he confesses.

I grab his trembling hands, rising on my toes and kissing him on the lips. I don’t fear what the world thinks of us anymore. “Don’t be,” I whisper. “Whatever happens, I’m right here.”