Page 121 of Triple Play
“With all due respect, sir,” Wyatt starts. “Anonymous complaints aren’t exactly—”
“We also have photographic evidence.”
The room goes silent.
Carol pulls out her phone. Turns it toward us. And there, in crystal clarity, is a photo of all four of us from two nights ago. Walking into the townhouse. Jordie’s got his arm around my waist. Grant’s hand is on my lower back. Wyatt’s carrying my bag.
We look like exactly what we are.
“That doesn’t prove anything,” I say, but my voice sounds hollow even to me.
“There are fifteen more photos,” Dean Morrison says. “Including several of you, Miss Hart, leaving the townhouse at various hours wearing clothing that clearly belongs to one of the gentlemen.”
I’m wearing Wyatt’s hoodie right now. The irony isn’t lost on me.
“Who took these?” Grant’s voice is dangerously quiet.
“That’s not relevant—”
“It’s absolutely relevant. Someone’s been stalking us.”
“Or someone’s been documenting violations of university policy.” Dean Morrison closes the folder. “Which brings us to the current situation. You four signed a cohabitation agreement that explicitly forbade romantic or sexual relationships between residents.”
“We’re not—” Jordie starts.
“Please don’t insult my intelligence, Mr. Dickson.” Carol’s voice is sharp. “I’ve been doing this job for twenty years. I know what a relationship looks like.”
Silence.
Then Grant speaks, and his voice is so cold it makes me shiver. “What happens now?”
“That depends.” Dean Morrison leans back in his chair. “You have three options. One: You admit to violating the agreement and accept the consequences. Immediate eviction from university housing, academic probation, and potential scholarship review.”
Wyatt goes rigid beside me.
“Two: You maintain that the allegations are false, in which case we launch a formal investigation. Interviews with neighbors, teammates, faculty. Review of security footage. Full disciplinary hearing.”
“Or?” I ask, because there’s always an or.
“Or you voluntarily separate. Miss Hart moves to alternative housing immediately. The gentlemen remain in the townhouse. No formal charges filed. No impact on scholarships or academic standing.”
“That’s not an option,” Grant says immediately.
Everyone looks at him.
“I mean—” He stops. Starts again. “We’re not separating. That’s not—no.”
“Then you’re admitting to the relationship?” Carol’s eyebrows raise.
“I’m admitting that kicking Elise out in the middle of the semester is unreasonable. She’s got finals in three weeks. She’s applying to medical schools. You can’t just—”
“Mr. Wilder, we can absolutely ‘just.’ You signed a contract.”
“A contract you forced on us because your department screwed up housing assignments.”
“That’s not—”
“It is exactly what happened.” Grant’s standing now. “You put us in an impossible situation and now you’re punishing us for it.”
