Page 4 of Almost Rotten

I was almostexpelled.

After that interaction, I can’t imagine the dean will bring the situation up again. And I doubt he has any idea that the man in the footage, the one fucking me from behind in the locker room, is a professor under his purview.

Good grief.

What a fucking way to start the day.

An inkling of ire nudges at my consciousness.

Even now that the shock is dissipating, I don’t fully understand what happened.

Someone recorded Mercer and me on Saturday night.

Even after I cleared the facility.

Then tried to share the footage.

To what end? For blackmail?

Who the hell filmed me without my consent? And more importantly, who was the intended recipient of the original email?

The dean’s warning about distribution has stuck with me. What if other people have already seen the footage? What if it’s already been circulated or shared?

Panic claws at my chest and warmth radiates up my neck.

I’m overheated and agitated. Too fucking raw to go any farther.

I need a second to get my head on straight.

With a hand splayed over my chest, I stop in my tracks.

Ty nearly runs into me, catching my hips to steady himself, then holding on longer than necessary.

For the first time in a very long time, I don’t want his hands on me.

He saved my ass, and I appreciate him supporting me, but the touch I crave right now belongs to another man.

For maybe the first time, having Ty’s hands on me doesn’t calm me or satisfy me.

Tears accumulate in my eyes quickly and spill over. It’s too much. I swipe one away, only then realizing that one hand is no longer free.

Tytus has captured it again.

Clearing my throat, I tug gently.

Rather than let go, he holds on tighter.

Then he pulls.

Before I know it, he’s dragging me down the hall in the opposite direction of where I was headed.

My brain buffers as my feet carry me forward, my movements jerky, staggering.

No. Wait.

I don’t want to go with Ty right now.

I want to go to Mercer. I need to fill him in.