Page 6 of The Professor
God, I’m a total idiot.
I sit in fear as the Dean dials someone on the phone, asking them to please come meet us as soon as they can. My stomach flips, and I nervously scratch at the denim of my jeans.
“So, Miss McMann,” Dean Richards begins, folding his hands on his desk. “Are you familiar with the college’s code of conduct?”
Where’s that witch when you need one? And that black hole?
“I am so sorry, Sir,” I blurt out, “I’m aware that the conversation you overheard must have seemed incredibly inappropriate but I?—”
“The conversation and the fact that you had Professor Page’s personal social media open on your phone, too,” the Dean reminds me, staring at me with blatant suspicion in his eyes. Someone knocks on the door, and the Dean calls for them to enter.
All the air leaves me as Oliver himself strolls in, confusion on his face when he sees me.
“Emma?” he asks, looking between me and the Dean. “What’s going on?”
I bury my face in my hands for a split second, trying to find some composure.
“Ah, so you’re familiar with each other, then?” the Dean asks, eyes narrowing.
Oliver must realize what’s going on, because he doesn’t sit down in the empty chair beside me and his shoulders square like he’s bracing himself.
“Miss McMann and I attended our undergrad together,” he explains casually, “and she’s a student in my Master’s class this semester.”
“I see,” Dean Richards muses. “And that’s…all there is of your relationship?”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Oliver says, sounding genuinely confused.
Oh God, have I got this all wrong? Does he not like me back?
The Dean must buy what he’s saying, because his expression eases slightly and he nods. “Unfortunately, this morning I overheard an inappropriate conversation between Emma and a friend where you were mentioned,” the Dean says. “I was just reminding her of our code of conduct. If you feel at all uncomfortable with the behaviour Emma has exhibited?—”
“I haven’t noticed anything unusual, or felt uncomfortable at all,” Oliver assures him before he can even finish his sentence. I swear I catch the corner of his lip curl in a smirk but it’s gone before I can be sure. “Emma has been a model student in class, I assure you. But I will keep a close eye to be certain.”
The Dean nods, satisfied. “Good. Well, Emma, you are free to continue as you were for now but if this happens again I must pursue disciplinary action. Understood?”
I nod frantically. “Yes, Sir, I’m so sorry again. I promise this won’t happen again.”
He dismisses us, and I practically run out the door. Oliver’s close behind, and the second the heavy door shuts behind us, he bursts into laughter. Horrified, I shush him and speed down thehall, around the corner, with Oliver trying to keep up, putting distance between us and the Dean.
“Why are you laughing?” I hiss, upon slowing, stopping, and turning, gaping at him as he almost collides into me, slightly breathless, and wiping an amused tear from his eye.
“Oh, Emma, what did you do?” he asks, grinning widely. “Whatinappropriate conversationwas I somehow involved in?”
It’s then I register how close he’s standing to me, and how empty this dead end is. My heart races in my chest.
How am I supposed to explain this?
I brace myself, knowing that what happens next will either bring us closer or ensure that my fantasies about Oliver and I remain just that…dreams.
4
OLIVER
Ishould leave. I should step away and give Emma space. I should remain professional and put distance between us, now and in the future.
But I can’t.
I won’t.
