All I could do was sit through the class, my fingers digging in to the armrests on either side of me, my body rigid. I watched the clock with a growing sense of dread as the hands ticked closer and closer to the time Iain was scheduled to arrive.
When I heard the familiar creak of the doors as they swung open, my eyes flew in their direction. Iain stood there, with that same woman he’d been with at his book signing. Iain was dressed to impress again, looking every bit the part of a successful author. He stood by the doors with his female companion, waiting for the discussion to wrap up. I could see him looking around the room, searching for me.
His gaze drifted over to where I was and we locked eyes, and I know he saw the panic and dread on my face. The small smile on his face faded to a frown, his brows creasing. He looked away.
Once upon a time, Iain was fairly good at reading me. Not as good as Jax, but good enough to detect danger on the horizon. Now…not so much. He folded his arms and stared stonily towards the front.
Professor Sharpe glanced towards the door, seeing Iain and the woman. “Welcome, Iain! I see you’ve brought your agent.”
Iain nodded, his arms dropping to his sides as he approached Professor Sharpe at the front of the classroom. They shook hands. “I’m going to open up the floor to questions now, if you’re alright with that?” Professor Sharpe asked him.
Iain smiled tightly, unaware of the dire situation before us. Then again, he didn’t know Delilah. I closed my eyes, praying she’d keep her mouth shut and that I was panicking for nothing. “Of course. I’d be happy to answer any questions.”
Professor Sharpe nodded and slapped Iain on the back in a cordial manner before he stepped back and headed over to the doors, where the woman Iain had walked in with was observing.
I assumed Delilah would be frothing at the mouth to spill her knowledge, but she remained still in her seat. Several other students asked Iain about his process—both the written one and the publishing one. Some asked about how it had felt to go on the Margo Morning Show. Others wanted to know if he had any more books planned for the future.
I started to relax, thinking that maybe Delilah would keep her mouth shut after all. Towards the end of Iain’s twenty minutes, Delilah’s hand shot up, dashing my hopes.
Iain looked up, catching the movement. “Yes?” He smiled at her encouragingly.
Delilah stood up. “Mr. Bentley, I adored Circumstance. It was beautifully written, very descriptive and raw.” Her tone seemed friendly and star-struck. Innocent.
“Thank you.” Iain smiled at her praise, and Delilah cast a glance at me and smirked before continuing.
“I was just wondering, Mr. Bentley…if this novel was based on a true story?” Delilah asked loftily. There was an edge to her words; she was making it clear that she knew it was.
Iain studied her for a moment, considering her and her question. He didn’t seem surprised by it at all. “Most writers ingrain a lot of truth in their novels, be it the emotional aspects or characteristic traits.”
“So…this is the story behind what happened in North Bay?” Delilah’s voice held a note of challenging contempt. The room was so silent, you could hear a pin drop. Nobody knew what Delilah was talking about. Nobody but Iain and me.
Iain clenched his jaw, the only outward sign of his aggravation. “Readers often find connections between stories and the real world. After all, most stories are based on events that could really take place. The beauty is that everyone finds something different in it and connects it with their own personal experiences.”
“Yes, I agree. However…you—” Delilah began, but Iain’s eyes hardened and he raised his hand, silencing her.
“I see that you are familiar with certain facts or truths that pertain to me and my story. However, this venue is not the place to discuss such matters and I’d rather limit discussion to the book itself. If you would like to discuss your obvious issues with me afterwards, you may do so.”
Delilah bowed her head as if thoroughly chided and sat back down in her seat. Silence fell upon the lecture hall for several moments before the whispers erupted.
“And that’s a wrap. Class, you are free to go.” Professor Sharpe’s voice was stern, cutting through the whispers and tension like a knife. He approached Iain with a frown, followed by the woman. She looked absolutely livid.
Students started to leave their seats and the lecture hall. Most were confused about what had transpired. I was vibrating with anger. I tried to leave, because I knew if I had to face Delilah, it was not going to end well.
She followed me though, catching up to me as I neared the bottom of the stairs. Her hand shot out, grabbing my arm and forcing me to turn and face her.
“What the hell, Delilah?” I demanded, my eyes narrowing in on Delilah’s smug face. She looked quite happy with herself. I yanked my arm out of her grasp, almost shaking.
“I guess that answers our question, doesn’t it? You were definitely the muse for this book. Did you actually sleep with your English teacher?” Delilah inquired, smirking. She waited a beat, watching my face as the colour drained. “Judging by the look on your face, I’d say yes. Are you sleeping with Professor Sharpe, too? Is that why you’re his ‘prized pupil’ this year?”
Delilah’s words were harsh, full of bitter resentment and jealousy. Her voice carried with ease throughout the lecture hall. The remaining students stopped in their quest to leave and stared at the altercation happening near the bottom of the stairs.
I looked behind me helplessly. Professor Sharpe, Iain and the woman were less than five feet away, and it was obvious by the looks on their faces that they had heard every word Delilah had said. Iain’s jaw was tense, and Professor Sharpe looked appalled. Iain went to step towards us, but the woman shot her hand out, gripping his arm tightly. She shook her head at him.
“Delilah Moreno.” Professor Sharpe’s voice rang out like a whip, and Delilah’s head shot up. I could tell by the surprise on her features that she hadn’t intended for him to overhear her accusations.
Delilah straightened, lifting her chin up. “Yes, Professor Sharpe?”
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, looking from Delilah to me and to Iain.
“Why don’t you ask your old university buddy?” Delilah suggested sweetly. “Or maybe your ‘prized pupil’, perhaps?”
I opened my mouth, searching for something to say, anything. Nothing came out. I was in a state of complete and total shock.
“Miss. Moreno, I’ve had about enough of you running your mouth. The accusations you are throwing around are serious and frankly, I don’t appreciate them.” I’d never seen Professor Sharpe so angry before. “You’re both going to need to accompany me to the Dean’s office—now.”
“I’m not accusing anyone of anything,” Delilah said calmly, thrusting her chin upward. “It’s public knowledge that Iain Bentley served time for an inappropriate relationship with one of his high school students. Your ‘prized pupil’ happens to be that very high school student.”
“That may be so,” Iain said, stepping forward with angry determination. He ignored the woman’s attempts at stopping him. “I served time for my crime, and I’ve moved on with my life, as has she. Now, you’re tossing serious accusations around at your professor. That’s slander, Miss. Moreno. I trust you know that slander is illegal?”
Delilah paled at his words. “I didn’t mean to accuse Professor Sharpe of anything. I—”
“But you did accuse me, and that’s slander.” Professor Sharpe’s lips were in a thin line. “Dean’s office. Now.” His words left no room for argument.
* * *
My hands were trembling as I sat in the wooden chair before the dean of the university. Delilah sat beside me, sullen and pale, while Professor Sharpe stood behind us looking very grave.
I hadn’t seen Iain Bentley, or the woman who I now knew was his agent since Professor Sharpe walked Delilah and me out of the lecture hall to the dean’s office.
<
br /> I had been in the office for the last three hours, in a separate room from Delilah and Professor Sharpe. Professor Sharpe spoke first, and then I had to recount the situation with Iain in North Bay before the dean and two other staff members. Then it was Delilah’s turn to share her side of the story, and now we were all together, about to hear the verdict.
I felt emotionally drained, as if someone had scooped out everything inside of me. I knew I wasn’t in any trouble—after all, I hadn’t slept with Professor Sharpe—but I still couldn’t ignore the anxiety that rolled through me like a cobra, coiled and ready to strike as I waited for the dean to speak.
“It looks like what we have here is a jealous, petty individual throwing accusations around out of spite,” the dean said, fixing his cold eyes upon Delilah’s face. She lowered her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. I didn’t have it in me to pity her—she was reaping what she’d sown. I didn’t understand what I’d done to evoke such needless cruelty from this individual, and I certainly didn’t have to pity her for making my life hell. “However, due to the severity of the accusations, and despite the fact that Ms. Moreno confessed to these feelings of petty jealousy, our university procedure still dictates that we launch a full investigation,” he added, glancing at Professor Sharpe apologetically.
I followed his gaze, looking at Professor Sharpe. His face was grim, but we had nothing to hide—we’d done nothing wrong. “What does that entail?” I said, finding my voice finally.
“Unfortunately, Professor Sharpe is going to be suspended while we investigate these allegations. We will have to bring in all the other students in your class for individual questioning,” the dean replied, sitting back in his chair. He massaged his temple. “We’re also going to have to look into your grades to make sure that there wasn’t an exchange of…an inappropriate nature to receive them.”
The blood rushed from my head and I swayed in my seat.
“Don’t be alarmed, Ms. Jones. I’m certain we’ll find nothing of concern. As I said, it’s just a procedure we must follow.”
“I’m really sorry, Professor Sharpe,” Delilah said, never raising her head. “And Harlow…I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have behaved the way I did. It was childish.”
I couldn’t reply. I’d lost the ability to speak and I wasn’t sure I wanted to accept her apology either. She’d caused a bunch of heartache and stress with her careless words. I was so angry at her, I could barely see straight.
“Ms. Jones, you’re free to go.”
I stood up on shaky legs, grabbing my messenger bag before fleeing the office. I couldn’t look at Professor Sharpe or Delilah. I kept my gaze focused on the floor in front of me as I threw open the door and let it slam behind me.
I couldn’t believe I was in this situation again. My grades were going to be reviewed, I was going to be judged and scrutinized by the board of yet another educational institution, and this time, I hadn’t even done anything.
My eyes started to burn, but I willed myself to keep it together for just a little longer. The last thing I needed right now was to break down and cry.
My phone started to vibrate in my pocket, and I fished it out with trembling hands. I had ten missed phone calls. Two were from Jamie, likely wondering where I was and why I hadn’t shown up for my shift. I’d missed half of it already. One was from Jenna, one from Crimson and the rest were from Jax—save for one, a number I didn’t recognize.
Jax was calling again. I answered it, my voice sounding hoarse as if I’d been crying. It was remarkable that I hadn’t yet burst into tears, but my voice betrayed the emotion.
“Harlow, what’s wrong?” he demanded. “Jenna’s called me three times looking for you. Jamie said you didn’t show up at work. Where are you?”
“At the university. I’m walking home now. I—” I paused, my voice trembling. I had no idea where to begin.
“I’m picking you up. Wait for me out front,” Jax told me. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Okay,” I whispered, finally allowing the tears to flow free. I hung up, swiftly changing directions so that I could wait for Jax in front of the university.
I walked over to the curb, needing somewhere to sit down. My legs felt impossibly weak. I collapsed there, dropping my head into my hands.
My head was swirling with a thousand thoughts and emotions. I couldn’t sift through a single one of them to categorize or make sense of it. My heart was pounding, and I was shaking.
True to Jax’s word, he was pulling up to the curb within ten minutes. I heard his truck door slam as he jumped out and jogged around the rear length of his truck to reach me. I looked up, tears streaming down my face.
“What happened?” Jax squatted before me, his eyes full of tension and concern. He had known about the book discussion today.
I opened my mouth and tried to speak, but it wasn’t cooperating. All I could do was let out a strangled cry. I was beginning to hyperventilate and I felt like a weak fool.
Jax picked me up with one fluid motion and carried me over to his truck, opening the passenger door. He set me inside on the seat, my legs still hanging out the door on either side of his body. His eyes bore into mine. “Tell me what happened.”
I was fighting to breathe, and I stared into Jax’s warm brown eyes as I tried to regain my composure and untangle my tongue. I opened my mouth, about to force words through my windpipe.
“Harlow!” Jax’s head and mine both turned to the sound of my name being called. Iain was jogging over, his brow creased with worry. Jax stiffened in front of me, and I squeezed his muscles and shook my head to try and express that Iain was not the cause of this, but Jax wasn’t looking at me. He was glowering at Iain. Iain slowed his pace, eyeing Jax warily before looking at me. “I just wanted to check up on you after…everything...”
Suddenly, Jax was gone from in front of me. He had a fist full of Iain’s jacket and a savage look on his face. “What did you do to her?” he demanded, his voice menacing. “Ever since you started showing your good for nothing face around here, she’s been a mess. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t break you!” Jax said deliberately, each of his words searing into the air around us. I knew he meant every word.
“Jax! Stop!” I cried, jumping out of his truck. I propelled my body towards him, grabbing his arm. “It wasn’t Iain,” I said, almost shouting it.
Jax released his grip on Iain, although the hellish look didn’t leave his eyes. He didn’t believe me. “Then what happened?”
“Delilah. Delilah happened,” I responded, my throat raw and sore.
“Delilah?” Jax looked confused for a moment. “Delilah Moreno?” I nodded, trying to breathe through the racing of my heart. He knew who Delilah was—he trained her at the gym, but I hadn’t mentioned my recent issues with her for fear of sounding insecure and foolish. “What does she have to do with any of this?” Jax demanded, gesturing to Iain and me.
“She’s in my Creative Writing class.” I exhaled, my legs trembling. I swayed on my feet, the panic, the anxiety, and the events of the day all completely taking their toll on me. Blood rushed to my head.
My vision was beginning to fade and I felt faint. Jax’s expression changed from lethal to alarmed, and I heard his voice and Iain’s at a distance, as if I were underwater. Jax stepped towards me, catching me in his arms just before I fell.
Jax held me in his strong, capable arms and placed his lips near my ear. “Breathe, Harlow,” he said.
I focused on the sound of his voice, instructing me on how to breathe, and did what he said. I inhaled slowly, then exhaled slowly and repeated the process until the darkness receded from my vision and I felt more stable on my feet.
“You know, I’m getting really sick of fainting,” I mumbled, feeling embarrassed. Jax chuckled without humor, his expression still troubled from my near-fainting incident. He was still vibrating with anger. I knew it wasn’t towards me, but it was still intimidating. Not because I was worried he would hurt
me, but because I knew he could easily inflict pain on Iain. Despite everything, I didn’t want Iain to suffer any more than he already had.
I blinked, my focus returning to me a little more, and glanced at Iain. He was still standing there, his hands in his pockets and a ruptured look on his face. When I looked at him, he schooled his features into a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“There was a student in Harlow’s class today that caused some problems during and after the question segment,” Iain explained, noting that I had yet to find my voice. He wasn’t afraid to meet Jax’s angry gaze. I had a feeling that Iain would welcome any physical pain Jax wanted to unleash.
“What kind of problems?” Jax was fighting to control his reaction to Iain. The desire to rearrange Iain’s face was still strong, but he was holding the majority of my weight in his arms still, the little fainting spell had brought him back to his rational self.
“She knew about what happened in North Bay and accused Harlow of sleeping with her current professor to get in his good favor in front of several other students. The professor, my agent, the other students and me all heard her accusation. Professor Sharpe had to report the entire incident to the dean.” Iain explained this with a detached voice, as if he was relaying an incident that didn’t really concern him. The only detection of his true emotion was in his fragmented eyes. “I just wanted to check in on Harlow after that incident, and when I saw you carrying her limply to the truck…” Iain trailed off, implying that he was worried without actually saying it.
The tension between the two of them was thick and heavy. Iain’s words were careful. I knew he didn’t want to say the wrong thing and make the situation worse for me. It would suck to have another boyfriend of mine end up in jail. If Jax got into a fight on university property, there was no telling what would happen.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself. I moved a little ways away from Jax, just to stand on my own feet; just to regain some control and some composure. “Now my grades are being reviewed, and Professor Sharpe is suspended and they’re going to question all of the other students in our class—even though Delilah admitted she said those things out of jealousy and spite.”
Collide Series Box Set Page 67
