Page 22 of Dean's Delinquent

I’m far too busy to talk to anyone.

Talk about abrupt. Despite her demand for me to leave her alone, I want nothing more than to message her again and figure out what’s wrong. This isn’t like her. She’s never talked like this before. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think someone hacked her phone, or I got the wrong number.

Based on the other texts between us, it’s definitely hers. Maybe she’s just stressed because of the emergency. Try as I might, my conscience won’t let this go.

I’m here if you need me. Sorry things are so rough. Seriously, if you need anything. I’ll make it happen.

Don’t you worry about me. Trust me. I got every fucking thing I need right here. I don’t need anything else.

And... you’re sure we’re okay? Like I didn’t piss you off, right? I’m sorry I couldn’t be a plus one to the date, but you know my parents.

Bitch are you dumb?

How many times do I need to tell you to shut the fuck up and leave me alone?

If you don’t stop being a problem for me, I’ll make it a problem for you.

For the last time, leave me the fuck alone.

I don’t need you.

I don’t need anyone.

I don’t need anything.

I have exactly what I need to be satisfied.

Stop blowing up my phone and get a fucking life.

Get laid or something. Damn. So fucking uptight.

For a moment, I sit in my car and stare at the screen, my heart pounding as I read and reread the messages. Something just isn’t right. Why would she talk to me like this? Like, I know stress and grief can do a lot to people, but she seemed so quiet, so mild-mannered.

It’s got to be something really wrong for her to act this way. I can only hope whatever it is resolves quickly so she can come back to school. Maybe it would all be better if we could see each other face to face. As my finger hovers over the camera icon, I force myself to let it be. No good will come of me making her even angrier and more stressed.

Glancing up at the main building as it looms in the middle of campus, I square my shoulders and start the car. Besides, somewhere up there, Dean Anderson is waiting for me. No doubt, he’s pacing in his office cursing the day he ever said yes to allowing me to start the Loftry Lantern.

If I’m going to make it as a journalist, I need to be prepared for all the consequences... even the ones of my own making.

ChapterNine

Ashleigh

My heart pounds in my chest as I take the stairs as slowly and gingerly as I can manage without looking like a total freak or like I have some sort of issue preventing me from walking right. Lord knows I’ll probably have a reason to not walk straight when I’m done. Maybe if I play my cards right, I’ll have more than one.

That’s not right. I can’t think of this as a sexual escapade or virginal foray when I know damn well he’s going to blister my ass. Unfortunately, that thought alone is enough for me to forget Marnie, forget the angry rants on the Loftry Lantern social media pages, and focus solely on the man I’m about to confront.

Squaring my shoulders, I push my way into the dean’s front of office where Shelaine clacks her immaculate nails on the keyboard. The instant the door closes behind me, she looks up and winces. Oh God. Is it going to bethatbad? Her lips thin as they curl up into what I can only assume is a sympathetic smile.

“Is he-“

“Ashleigh Hartwell,” Dean Anderson booms from his office door. “Inside. Now. Shelaine, hold all calls and push my next meeting back. This will probably take a while.”

“Yes, Sir.” Her voice is soft and dutiful, the perfect paragon of what I’m sure my parents would like me to be.

If only I could just be demure and obey their edicts without any fuss. But then, I’d probably be planning my wedding to Caldwell instead of going toe-to-toe with one of the most commanding, influential men of Loftry University. A perverse thrill slithers down my spine as I ease my way past him, making sure to allow some part of my arm to brush against his body.

Again, like last time, if he notices anything, he gives nothing away. He’s a bulwark, a tower of unyielding flesh, and God, a stern slash of lips as he glowers down at me. Even now, my clit throbs as arousal dampens the gusset of my thong.

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