Chapter 18
Trevor
Being called to a professor’s office never bodes well.
I arrive five minutes before our scheduled meeting, forcing myself to wait another two before I knock. The professor calls me in.
“Mr. Slade,” he says dispassionately, waiting until I close the door to give me his full attention. He steeples his hands, judgmental eyes that I’ve become accustomed to staring at me for a long moment before he speaks again. “I assume you have some idea why you’re here?”
“I…don’t,” I tell him truthfully, sitting down in the chair in front of his desk. I keep my spine straight but relax my posture, making myself as unassuming as possible.
His lips purse as he slides a piece of paper my way across the desk. “You plagiarized your most recent work. I trust you know that’s grounds for failure in my class and possible expulsion.”
My heart sinks. “I didn’t.”
He taps one side of the paper, as if having expected my rebuttal. “This is your work, handed in an hour after”—he taps the other side of the paper—“this student’s project right here. As you can see, they’re identical.”
My eyes scan the screenshots on the printout. On the left is a portion of my project. The one on the right, as he said, looks the same, apart from a few formatting differences. “I didn’t steal anyone’s work,” I say again. “I wouldn’t.”
“Then how do you explain this? I don’t take plagiarism lightly, Mr. Slade.”
My mind reels as my professor watches on, likely thinking he’s caught me squarely in a trap. I remember leaving my laptop at my seat the other week when I stepped out to use the bathroom. Did someone…steal my work during class hours while I was gone?
“I can prove it,” I tell him, swinging my backpack around and pulling my laptop free.
“Mr. Slade…”
“Please,” I say, opening it without pause. “Give me two minutes to show you proof.”
I type in my password and open the project file. Then I pull up all previously saved versions and swing my laptop around so the professor can see. “I started this three weeks ago and have saved copies every step of the way. Does the other student have that?”
His lips purse again, a flicker of doubt entering his expression.
“I didn’t steal anyone’s work. I know this subject matter.” I wait a beat, praying he can look past his preconceived notions of me to recognize I’m speaking the truth. “Have me redo the project during office hours if you want. But don’t penalize me for someone else’s error.”
The professor doesn’t speak for the longest time. “You’ll both be suspended from my class for the week while these allegations are looked into. Send me these files.”
Letting out a resigned breath, I upload my project files, as well as my entire folder for the class dating back to the start of the semester. Hopefully, he’ll look through my past work as well to see I do know his course material. I have no reason to plagiarize.
Once done, the professor dismisses me curtly, and I head out into the hall, knowing there’s nothing else I can do. I showed him my work. I offered to redo it under his supervision. I just have to pray the other student doesn’t have a false paper trail.
Walking outside, I stop at a fountain shooting a plume of water into the air. There’s a cement bench surrounding its perimeter, and I take a seat, pulling out my phone to check the time.
Isaac should be done with his class by now.
He sounds confused when he answers my call. “Trevor? Is something wrong?”
I huff a small breath. “Why do you assume that?”
“Because I don’t think you’ve ever called me, only texted. Wait… No, no. You haven’t. What’s wrong?”
I can’t stop the smile on my face or the warmth that envelops my chest, even as the reminder of my meeting minutes ago sours my mood. “Maybe I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“Yeah, something’s definitely wrong. Where are you at?”
“The university.”
There’s a long pause before Isaac makes a short sound. “Perfectly descript. I’ll just walk around until I find you, shall I? Where, Trevor?”
I chuckle. “You don’t need to—”
“Meet me at the library?” he cuts in, likely knowing I won’t refuse any direct request he makes. Not if it’s within my power to grant.
I ease out a breath. “Sure.”
I’m fairly certain I hear, “Didn’t think I was dealing with a stubborn man,” before the call ends. Feeling a touch lighter, I pocket my phone and make my way toward the central library.
Isaac is waiting for me inside the stairwell on the third floor. Without a word, he pushes off from the wall and opens the door. I follow him through the common spaces and stacks until we reach the private rooms.
He enters an empty one, shutting the door once I’m inside and then bodily steering me toward a chair in the center of the small space.
He strips off my backpack before plopping me onto the seat.
I’m about to make a joke about his interrogation tactics when Isaac climbs onto my lap, rendering me speechless.
He nestles himself against me, his arms around my shoulders as my own come around his back. My heart beats heavily as his hair brushes my cheek, his head beside my own.
“Here’s how this is going to go,” he says, voice soft. “You’re going to tell me what’s wrong. Because I’m not good at guessing that shit. I can’t promise I’ll be very good at fixing it, either. But I can listen.”
I tighten my arms around him, my eyes closing as I breathe him in. “You’re better at it than you think.”
“I haven’t even done anything yet.”
My huff is small. “I’ve been suspended from one of my classes on allegations of plagiarism.”
Isaac sucks in a breath. “That’s bullshit.”
“You don’t even know the whole story.”
He pulls back enough to glare at me, his expression making me bite my tongue. “I know you. And you have too much integrity to pass someone’s work off as your own. It has to be a mistake. Or…or someone else stole yours. Whose ass do I need to kick?”
Isaac jolts when I kiss him, but then he melts, his head resting lax in my hand, his fingers flexing at my nape. He’s warm and fierce, and the fact that he’s on my side without question, that he trusts my intentions implicitly, has my worry taking a back seat.
I can’t control everything life throws at me, but I can handle each hurdle to the best of my ability. Especially when I have a secret softie of a boyfriend whose first response to detecting something amiss in my life was to find me and all but smother me in comfort.
I pull back from the kiss to rest my head against his. “I’m better now,” I tell him honestly.
His fingers toy with my hair. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Someone did steal my work. But I’m not sure, even with the evidence, whether or not my professor will choose to believe me. I might be expelled this time next week.”
Isaac’s inhale is rough. “Could they really expel you on a hunch?”
I shrug. “I’m sure they could if someone wanted it done. But considering this is my first offense…” I chuckle when Isaac makes a disagreeable sound. “My first alleged offense, I would hope they’d show some leniency. But losing my credit in that course would be a given.”
Isaac is quiet for a moment, thinking that over. “But you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“The world doesn’t always operate on fairness. People often see what they want to. They form opinions based on their own experiences. Compassion is a choice. Not a given.”
“A poet and a philosopher,” Isaac mumbles.
I chuckle. “It’ll be all right, one way or another. Either I’ll be cleared of wrongdoing or I’ll be starting my business a little earlier than intended.”
“You’re too calm about this,” he says, voice sullen.
“Would you rather I shout and beat my chest?”
“No. But it would make me feel better if you, I don’t know, spouted off a bit like most people would do in your situation.”
Lips twisting, I reply evenly, “What woe has befallen me this dreary day? How shall I persist, knowing my good nature is under scrutiny by foul beings beyond my reproach? Hear now my decree. If found not innocent, a curse I will put upon all wretched souls who aim to place me in shackles not earned or fitting. Silent in my defense, I will not be.”
Isaac is shaking with laughter by the end of my short speech. “Have you been reading your new Shakespeare?”
“Are you accusing me of copying good William’s work?”
He snorts. “No, that was all your own. You’re really not upset about this?”
I blow out a breath as Isaac leans back, catching my eye. “I’m not happy about it. If this turns into a formal allegation, I’ll appeal as best I can. But this won’t change the trajectory of my life. I’m in charge of that.”
Isaac shakes his head a little, his gaze warm. “We should go out this week. Thursday, maybe, when you don’t have a shift at the bar.”
“To drown our sorrows?”
“No. To celebrate our accomplishments. And maybe you and Lumi can exchange notes on your acting careers.”
I raise an eyebrow. “So now I’m an actor in addition to being an inspirational video storyteller?”
“You’re a man of many talents,” Isaac agrees, stroking a hand over my chest, seemingly getting distracted as his fingers continue to wander in a slow path down my abdomen and back up again.
My lips twitch. “Do you like this sweater?”
He huffs in response, clearly not minding being called out. “Was just thinking.”
“About…my videos?”
“About you,” he answers before tilting his head and humming in a considering manner. “And your videos, yes. You know, if this were a porno, we’d absolutely be getting it on in this study room right now.”
“Would I be the student or the tutor?”
“You’d be whichever one is responsible for me getting railed on that flimsy table beside us.”
My snort has Isaac grinning to himself. “Is this a fantasy you want to live out?”