Page 10 of The Plan

Chapter Four

Vidia

Four Years Earlier

We heard about the complaint,and I wanted to apologize in person about the harassment, Vidia.” What the hell is this woman talking about right now? I never made a complaint since I haven’t been harassed.

“I’m sorry, Dean Montgomery, but my memory may be off. What complaint are you referring to?” I watch her pull her glasses down off the top of her red hair and read something off her phone.

“Here it is. It was more of a suggestion, but I filed it under complaints for your safety.”My safety?Okay, now I’m really lost. I listen closely as she continues.

“Student A made a call to the nurse, trying to get a hold of you, and the receptionist gave him your number. He thought it wasn’t safe that just anyone could call and get your number.”

I work with the baseball team as a sports medicine intern, and I told the front desk any of Jen’s patients can have my number if they ask for me, so who is thisheshe’s referring to? Before I can ask her, the baseball team walks in, filling the cafeteria with their loud presence.

I quickly notice Sire looking between the Dean and me, and then he makes a weird face. You’ve got to be kidding me. “Thank you, Dean Montgomery.” I sign her sheet, confirming I’m aware of the complaint, and walk across the cafeteria to see who’s behind this.

He meets me halfway, smiling. “How’s your day going, beautiful?”

I cross my arms, not letting him distract me from this. “It was going great until I learned I was being harassed.” I give him a knowing look, and he crosses his arms, mocking me.

“My stitches haven’t fallen out yet.” He points to his nose. “I’m pretty sure you did them wrong.”

Excuse me? I did them perfectly. How dare he? I didn’t even—

I shake my head from my thoughts. “Stop trying to distract me, Sire. Why are you making complaints on my behalf about harassment? That isn’t something that’s just okay to lie about.”

He unfolds his arms, throws an arm over me, and starts walking. What is he doing? “First of all, I didn’t lie. Someone could’ve potentially harassed you.” What the hell is he even saying right now? I stop walking and throw his arm off me.

He lets out a sigh and turns to me. “Okay, look, I called that number you gave me last week when you stitched me up. By the way, you could’ve mentioned it was the nurse's office and notyournumber. All of this could’ve been avoided, but anyway. When I asked the receptionist for your number, he said he had itmemorized.”

He says ‘memorized’ like it’s a crime. “What’s your point?”

He looks at me like I’m the crazy one for not seeing an issue with this. “Are you a rock, Vid? People are obviously calling for your number so often that he memorized it.” He almost sounds… jealous.

“He has a photogenic memory, you rock.”

He looks around like he feels dumb.

“You feel dumb now, don’t you?”

He quickly tries to play it off and shrugs his shoulders as he puts his hands inside the pocket of his hoodie. “No... It was more of a suggestion to the Dean, anyway,” he mumbles. Sure it was.

“Even if people have been asking for my number, technically, that still isn’t harassment.” I don’t think it is? God, this boy is giving me a headache. “Never mind. Why do you even care?”

He just shrugs, looking down at me. “Can I not care about your safety?”Lying ass.

“You have a bad poker face, too.”

He laughs, and I, of course, join. He looks down at my nails and takes my hand in his, smiling. “You actually painted them pastel blue, as I suggested.” I was already going to do this color since it’s my favorite, but I let him think he picked it because he sounded excited. Why do boys always pick pastel blue?

I hear a group of people behind me, and when I turn, I see it’s the baseball team. A few of the players wave at me with warm smiles, and then they go back to talking amongst each other. “This is definitely going to work,” one of them mumbles, and a few look over at me again, but I don’t give it much thought.

Turning back around, Sire looks at his team weirdly, almost annoyed.

“What?” I go to look back, but he stops me.

“Nothing. Are you hungry?” He throws his arm over my shoulder again and guides us out. Why does he keep doing that?

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