Chapter 45 Sutton
SUTTON
PYTHIA: What’s this? The vapors speak of a certain hunky young professor getting down and dirty with one of his students—though nothing has been confirmed, of course.
But who would blame the student for taking a Fury Hill darling for a quick ride?
I know you all are daydreaming about it as I type this. Ooh la la!
With my hands clasped together, my chin resting on top of them, I glance up from the tablet screen at Dean Bauer.
He crosses his legs and leans back, waiting. Expecting something from me—a confession, presumably, but he won’t be getting one.
“Why are you showing me posts from that god-awful website?” I ask, sitting up and letting my hands fall to my lap. “You know journalistic integrity is not The Delphic Pages’ strong suit.”
“That may be, but Pythia seems to have her finger on the pulse of this institution. Whether we like it or not.”
“If you’re going to accuse me of what she’s claiming, then you’ll need to draw up a formal complaint, launch an investigation, and bring me before the school’s ethics committee. And, likely, find the student you think I’m philandering with.”
Not that we’ve been going to that great of lengths to hide things, especially with Elle spending many evenings in my campus-funded housing.
But she wasn’t there last night or any other night this week, which makes the sudden revelation from Pythia feel like adding salt to my wounds.
She hasn’t even been in class or at rehearsal, citing illness. The pained, injured part of me wonders if telling Pythia about us is her way of exacting revenge.
No. She wouldn’t have done that. If it were so simple a solution for her to just report our relationship, then she wouldn’t have been so upset before.
She thinks I don’t want to show her off to the entire world? That I don’t wish to claim her as my own before the student body? To keep the wandering eyes and idle hands at bay by letting them know who she belongs to?
I’m not sure exactly how much more desperate I can become before she believes that I’d do anything if it were in my realm of possibility. Anything that didn’t involve torching my career and ditching Bellamy’s memory.
Even that… I’m not so sure work is worth the look she had in her eyes when she thought I wasn’t giving her my all. That she’d turned herself over to me and wasn’t receiving everything in return.
As if I wouldn’t break open my own chest and tear out my heart to serve to her on a platter.
It belongs to her completely anyway.
Instead, I had to go and open my big fucking mouth and let my own insecurity spew vile words. The look on her face—dejected and distant, instantly withdrawing from me—could have sliced me in two.
Dean Bauer scrubs a hand over his face. “The administration is opening an investigation, pending the approval of one founding family member.”
I work my jaw from side to side. “Jean-Louis.”
He nods.
“You sure this is a road you want to go down?” I ask, raising my brows. “Avernia isn’t the only one who can conduct ethics hearings.”
Sweat beads along his receding hairline. “Nothing else has been brought to the attention of the school. That’s the issue here, Sutton.”
Pushing to my feet, I lean my palms on his desk, looming over him. He tilts his face up, a tremor working through him as if he thinks I’ll turn a violent leaf and make him a victim.
It’s not impossible, but at the moment, there are far more pressing matters to attend to.
“Just keep in mind that the rumors about what you did to those two girls when I was a student still run rampant among Avernia’s back channels. Some even say there’s video evidence.” I rap my knuckles against his desk, winking. “In case you think I won’t drag you down along with me.”
I’d do it for the simple fact that he enabled Beckett and the Curators’ bad behavior all last semester, but this would be the cherry on top.
In Acting for Beginners, I loiter around the auditorium, delaying the start of class, hoping that maybe Elle will show before the weekend. When she doesn’t, I feel a flare of panic inside my chest, thinking I really fucked this up.
I don’t even have her number to text and plead for her to come over or meet me in my office. She’s ignored the multiple messages I’ve sent to her student email, and I’m afraid that if I don’t scale back on those, the ethics investigation will be over before it’s even begun.
Lexington sidles close to the stage after class, watching me silently as the students disperse.
“Mr. Abbott,” I say in a deadpan voice, not in the mood. “Is there something I can assist you with?”
“You seem distracted today is all. Was just wondering if there was something going on?” He shrugs, slipping his hands into the pockets of his navy chinos. He really has an effortless charm, and the fact that he spends so much time with Elle just further irritates me.
“My personal issues are none of your concern,” I tell him. “Your focus should be on the production and finals.”
“Sure, sure, they are. Definitely.” He glances at the floor, scuffing his shoe against it. “Class was pretty quiet this week, don’t you think?”
My gaze cuts to his.
“Didn’t realize how much effort Elle Anderson puts into participating, but you sure can tell when she’s missing, can’t you?”
The blood in my veins feels like it’s boiling. “Rest is important when sick. As is not spreading germs. I appreciate her choosing not to come to class.”
“Sick? Oh, then I guess when she said she’d be hanging out in the quarry this morning, she wasn’t being serious.”
My expression flattens. He’s fully transparent, but now I have to wonder if he’s the one feeding Pythia information or if he’s just fishing for it now. I school my features, keeping them neutral, and close my briefcase, grabbing the handle tightly.
“Mr. Abbott,” I say, heading to the back of the building so he doesn’t assume I’m going to her. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
Lexington just hums, and though I’ve turned my back toward him, the smug look on his face burns into my retinas all the same.
Perhaps I’m not as discreet as I believed.
Certainly not when I drop my things off and head to the quarry, unable to spend even a second longer just thinking about Elle.
Having her in my thoughts isn’t enough. It never will be.
I find her exactly where he said she’d be, alone with her legs dangling off the edge of the quarry. Her palms are flattened, arms outstretched behind her, as she soaks up bits and pieces of the sunshine peeking through the Fury Hill clouds.
It takes me a moment to gather the nerve to approach, sticking to the rock walls long enough to ensure she’s out here by herself.
This is dangerous, considering the dean’s questioning just hours ago, but resistance is fucking futile when it comes to this woman. My feet press harder into the rocky ground than necessary, but they carry me toward her anyway until I’m risking everything by being here like this.
She’s wearing a red velvet skirt over tights and a thick black sweater beneath an overcoat. Her hair’s pulled into a ponytail, a few stray pieces framing her delicate face; they rustle alongside the leaves with the wind, carrying the scent of honey and vanilla over to me.
“Stars aren’t out yet,” I say, pushing myself in her direction.
The slope of her shoulders straightens when she hears my voice, and she casts a pinched look over one of them, giving me a pointed once-over.
“Careful there, Professor,” she replies, turning her nose up. “You being here during the day with a student might be unseemly.”
God, that smart mouth. It strikes me standing here that I really fucking missed hearing it this week. Having it on my couch next to me. In my bed.
“I don’t mind.” Bending down, I take a seat next to her, hanging my own legs over the quarry’s edge. The water below is as dark and still as ever, making me dizzy to think what it contains. “You haven’t been in class this week.”
“Sorry I couldn’t be a nuisance, but I’m sure there was no shortage of students willing to take my place.”
Venom drips from her words, striking me in the chest with its toxicity. “I was simply worried you’d fallen ill or maybe were having a bad endo flare-up.”
That seems to make her hesitate in her fury. “If that’s what you thought, why didn’t you come check on me?”
Christ. This is not going well. “I was trying to give you space. You ignored my emails—”
“I didn’t think it was an appropriate matter to discuss on Avernia servers.
‘Hey, Dean Bauer, my boyfriend was an asshole. Do you mind if we talk through our issues here? I know we’re not even supposed to be speaking much outside class, but actually we’ve been fucking, and I’d really like to continue. Thanks!’”
My eyes widen, my brain hitching on that one word. “Boyfriend?”
A furious fuchsia color crawls up her neck, making that choker seem even darker in contrast. “I misspoke.”
“A Freudian slip?”
Her cheeks continue to burn pink, and she balls her hands into fists, saying nothing more.
We sit like that for a few minutes, silence bleeding into the air as if from an open wound. I suppose, in a way, that’s true—it is I who wounded and left her untreated.
Boyfriend. It’s not something I’d given much thought to as I rarely let anyone close enough to matter, but as the two syllables play on a loop in my mind, I enjoy the way it feels.
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my small first aid kit, popping the top open. I fish out a pill packet and a folded stick-on heating pad and hold them out for her.
“I’ve been reading up on endometriosis,” I say. “I’m not sure what your pain levels are at the height of a flare-up, but I’ve seen some people say it can sometimes be managed with heat and painkillers.”
“Sometimes,” she agrees. “But I’m fine right now. My period was short and light this week.”
“From the sex, right?”
“I don’t know, Sutton.” She sighs. “It’s possible, yes.”
Glancing at the items in my hand, I set them on the ground. “Me paenitet,” I tell her softly.