Page 61 of Bachelor

Whitney rolled her lower lip between her teeth and fixed me with a look. “That doesn’t make it just go away.”

“I understand.” I rapped my knuckles on my desk. “I found out first thing this morning. Right now, it only looks like someone is trying to start a rumor, to start drama. Tech support went in and deleted it off the portal within an hour of it going live.”

“Has anyone approached you about it yet?”

“No,” I said, then shook my head. “Dan did, but he heard some of the other professors talking about it in the lounge when he came in today. They asked him if I knew about it yet, called it a sick joke.”

“Who posted it?” Whitney’s voice was withdrawn. It was barely a question. We both knew who did it without having to say his name.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” I said, trying to assure her. “You won’t be asked. I highly doubt anyone will come to you wanting an explanation. If anything, I will be called to meet with the head of my department or the dean, depending on far Christian takes this. He doesn’t have proof, Whitney.”

“But what if he does? He said he knew we were in Sleepy Hollow.”

“There’s nothing we can do about it now.” I rose, rounding my desk. I leaned against it, tucking my hands in my pockets as I looked down at her. “I have your back, Whitney. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I’m not going to let Christian bully you, either.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“I know,” I said, my voice hoarse. “But he’s made threats. This isn’t over, and I want to get ahead of him if he does have proof.”

“What do you suggest we do?”

I met her eyes, seeing the desperation there. “Do you want to be together?”

She opened her mouth, but then shut it tightly. “How, Rhys? How are we supposed to do this now?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, crossing my ankles. “I don’t really care.” She scoffed, but I continued, “I’ve stopped caring about the repercussions we’re facing if this goes to hell. I’d give up my career for a single night with you.”

“Don’t say that—”

“I’m serious, Whitney, I would. But I don’t want just a single night. I want all the nights, and all the mornings, and everything in between. I want you. I know you can’t do this unless we’re in it fully, giving one hundred percent of ourselves to each other, and that means not allowing this to be a secret anymore.”

Her chest rose and fell as she took a deep breath. “I don’t want this to be something we have to continually bury, Rhys.”

“I know, I do. I get where you’re coming from, and I’m telling you right now I’m going to find a way to navigate this.”

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

“I’m sure. I’ve never been more sure.” I wanted nothing more than to reach out and take her into my arms, but I couldn’t touch her.

The same thought must have crossed her mind because her expression cracked, and a deep sadness showed through. “Then we pretend like nothing happened and we’re not together.”

“Yes.” I nodded, hating the way it sounded.

“Then how do we see each other?” Her eyes flashed from that withdrawn, hollow look to a fiery, stone-cold look that set my heart thundering.

“We’ll find a way. We did before.”

Her nostrils flared as she nodded. I took a risk and laid my hand over her shoulder, squeezing it. “We’re okay, Whitney.”

She laid her hand over mine, her cheek grazing over where we touched. I closed my eyes, resisting the urge to kiss her.

Outside the door, the hallway was starting to fill with passing students and professors as the day’s lectures began. I cleared my throat, reluctantly letting go of the moment and her touch. “Midterms are coming up,” I began, then proceeded to tell her what I needed her to do for the class she led for me. She nodded along, but her eyes were fixed on the small window behind me.

Eventually she stood up and gathered her things to go. She reached the door, her hand on the knob. I stopped her, throwing a hand on the door to keep it closed, and kissed her fully. She leaned into the kiss, her fingers curling in my shirt as she pulled me closer. I imagined locking the door and bending her over my desk like I’d wanted to for months now, but she pulled away. Breathless, she said, “I’ll see you later.”

“I’ll see you later,” I repeated, my voice like gravel as I stepped away and allowed her the room she needed to walk out into the throng of people trying to get to class on time. The door shut behind her, blocking out the noise as I ran my fingers through my hair and closed my eyes.

What was I going to do?

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