Page 156 of Almost Ravaged

Arms stretched overhead, I arch my back. My shoulders pop, giving me instant relief, and when I stretch my legs out, the release I get pulls a sigh from me.

When I pick my phone back up, I click on my email. It’s a habit left over from the days when Atty and Ty didn’t always have good cell reception but could routinely connect to Wi-Fi and send emails. Despite the ease with which we can all text now, old habits die hard. I like to clear out my inbox before I climb out of bed for the day.

I scan through the campus newsletters and clear out the discussion board update notifications. Routine stuff. The next email I find, though, makes my heart stop.

With trembling fingers, I tap on it.

Dean Stalworth has requested a meeting.

In person. In his office. This morning?

Good grief.

I launch myself into a sitting position and shoot off a text to Mercer.

Me:SOS. Stalworth is asking me to meet him in his office at 9 a.m. Do you know anything about this?

If Mercer got a meeting request too, that could mean the dean knows—

My phone vibrates in my hand.

It takes me three tries to swipe and accept the call.

“Hello?” I ask, my voice hollow.

“Breathe,” Mercer says by way of greeting. “You’re all right.”

I do as he says, forcing out a long exhale. “Do you know what this is about?”

“No. There’s nothing on my end, sweetheart. I assure you, if this had anything to do with you and me, he would have come to me directly.”

My pulse steadies slightly. Right. Okay. I’m getting all worked up over nothing. I take another deep breath, then say, “He wants to see me at nine. I’m going to be late for our morning meeting.”

Mercer hums. “The dean’s office is in the same building. It stands to reason that if he doesn’t keep you too long, we’ll still have time toconnectbefore class,” he says, his words dripping with innuendo.

I grin, picturing the salacious look on his face.

“Stop. The last thing I need to be thinking about when I’m sitting across from Dean Stalworth isconnectingwith you.”

Mercer is quiet for a second. Then, tone suddenly serious, he says, “It’s curious he requested such an urgent meeting. Do you want me to come with you? For moral support?”

I scoot to the edge of the mattress and swing my legs over the side. “Becausethatwon’t look suspicious? I’ll be fine,” I assure him, false bravado behind my words.

Maybe the dean wants to ask about my schoolwork. Or maybe this is a routine check-in for graduate assistants. The semester is nearing the halfway mark. This could all be procedural.

“You’re sure?” he urges. “I could wait outside his office.”

I roll my neck and steady my breathing, willing the unexpected tension of the last few minutes to drain out of me. “Completely sure. Like you said, if you’re not involved, I have nothing to worry about.”

“Come to my office as soon as you’re through,” he instructs. “Let’s hope to god the dean leaves me with enough time to at least cop a feel before class.”

With a snort, I mosey over to my closet, intent on picking out an outfit Mercer will appreciate. “Yes, Professor. See you soon.”

Chapter fifty-eight

Sawyer

The secretary sends me back right away. I knock, and when I’m greeted by a faint “come in” from behind the mostly closed door, I push it open.