32. Nothing But Trouble
Nothing But Trouble
TALIA
Iwake up alone in Macklin’s king sized bed.
The Gamma house is quiet, which can only mean that the guys are all at practice.
My muscles and joints are a little sore after last night.
When I think about it, it all feels like a dream. One of those hot sex dreams that leave you with a huge crush on the person you dreamed of.
But the dull ache between my legs confirms that it wasn’t a dream.
Sex with both Macklin and Becks was incredible, but sleeping between them was even better.
I’ve never felt so safe, wanted, and protected. So powerful.
If I could, I would stay in bed all morning, but I really need a shower.
My phone is on Macklin’s nightstand, and I decide to allow myself five more minutes in bed to check my messages and my social media. I always start my day this way.
A smile breaks out on my face when I see Macklin’s text.
He’s promising breakfast when he’s back from practice.
The way he takes care of me is one of the things that surprised me the most about him.
When we were nothing more than superficial acquaintances, I had no idea that there was such a sweet, caring side to him.
That, combined with the attraction that keeps growing between us, is making me fall for him more and more every day.
I don’t even want to think about how much trouble I’m going to be in once he decides that Gen has gotten the message and that our deal should come to an end.
Telling myself that Becks is into me doesn’t help the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. While I really like Becks and I’m excited to explore the attraction between us, especially after last night, getting to know Macklin turned my crush on him into something entirely different.
However, I look at the situation, I can’t see this ending in any other way than me getting hurt. Because even if they both wanted me, at some point I would have to let one go.
An email notification pulls me out of my mini freak out. It comes from Professor Cantucci’s office and it’s marked important.
The text doesn’t say much, just that the professor would like to see me in her office today at my earliest convenience.
There is an attachment with a calendar, so I can book a time slot to meet with the professor.
I have classes all afternoon, but my morning is wide open.
With a look at the time, I decide I could make the eight a.m. slot if I hurry. So I can be back to have breakfast with Macklin when he comes back from practice.
Growing up with four siblings and a house with only two bathrooms, I’m well versed in the art of showering at lightning speed.
The only issue is that I have nothing but last night’s jeans and Macklin’s jersey to change into. I could pop back into my room at the Zeta House, just next door, to get fresh clothes. But since I no longer have a car, I’ll have to walk to the other side of campus.
I make it to the History building with two minutes to spare. I’m glad I didn’t go to my room to change, or I would have been late.
The door to the professor’s office is closed. I knock, hoping I’m not too flushed since I ran here.
“Come on in.” A deep voice calls out.
Professor Cantucci’s office looks similar to every administration office on campus; with the standard desk and office chairs and the same bookshelves lining the walls and pleather couch pushed against one wall.
The biggest difference with any other office is that the professor put her personal touch on her space.
Framed photos of several archeological digs Professor Cantucci participated in draw attention to their exotic locations.
The one that hangs behind her desk is especially stunning. A younger, heavily pregnant Professor Cantucci is standing with a shovel stuck into the ground beside her. In the background is a very famous Ancient Greek temple.
“Talia. Good morning and thank you for coming.” Professor Cantucci isn’t the one who greets me.
Sitting at her desk is Victor, her T.A.
“Oh, Victor. Good morning. Did the professor want to see me?”
Professor Cantucci’s T.A. is a grad student. I sort of know him in a social context because he briefly dated Fiona, one of my Zeta sisters, when he was still an undergrad.
Victor wasn’t very popular in the Zeta House for a few reasons. First of all, his relationship with Fiona started as an affair when Fiona was dating Connor, one of the Cove Knights at the time.
Our sorority is officially affiliated with Gamma Delta Tau, the fraternity most of the hockey team is in, so Connor had our solidarity.
But Victor’s lack of popularity was also due to the fact that he was boring and very pretentious.
He looked down on everyone who didn’t gravitate in his same intellectual circles.
That didn’t earn him much favor among the Zetas, and when he finally ended things with Fiona, no one shed any tears. Not even Fiona, to be honest.
No one ever understood how she could cheat on a hot, smart, lovely guy like Connor with someone like Victor.
“Take a seat, Talia.” He gestures to the chair opposite his desk; his tone is more commanding than inviting. “There is something I wanted to discuss with you.”
He opens a brown folder in front of him, pulling out a few A4 sheets of paper.
He hunches over the desk, as if to get closer. Victor is skinny and not particularly tall, but the office feels suddenly too small and I rear back, pressed against the back of my chair.
“How did you find last week’s pop quiz?” He asks, and I realize that’s the content of his folder. He has last week’s quizzes in there.
“Good. I felt prepared. Why, did I fail it?” I crane my neck to try to sneak a peek at the papers in his hands, but Victor holds them at an angle that makes it impossible to see anything.
There’s a beat of silence, and he looks at me with a strange intensity in his brown eyes.
“No, you didn’t fail it.” He finally says.
“You did really well, actually. I was just grading these quizzes yesterday, and you got ninety-eight percent on the multiple-choice questions. And your mini essay was one of the best in the entire class.”
Some of the tension seeps out of me.
Maybe the professor is looking for a second T.A. If it’s a paid position, I could really use the extra money.
But Victor didn’t call me into the office to offer me a job. “Take a look at this.” He slides two quizzes in front of me.
One has my name written at the top and the other one says Genevieve Bergen.
“What am I looking at?” I ask, but my pulse starts to quicken.
“I was hoping you’d let me sit behind you in class and make sure your quiz paper is positioned so I can take a look if I get stuck on any questions.”
Gen’s request echoes in my ears. My stomach plummets at the memory of the way Gen smiled at me at the end of the pop quiz, when she sat right behind me.
I rifle through the two tests in front of me, feeling sicker with every passing second.
“You’re looking at two identical tests, Talia.” Victor’s glare hits me like a ton of bricks. “Like you, Genevieve got question number eighteen wrong.”
“Ok.” I say cautiously.
That in itself means nothing. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but Victor cuts to the chase.
“That got my attention, but it could have been a coincidence. What doesn’t look like a coincidence is that you and Genevieve chose exactly the same everyday item that was used in Ancient Rome and is still used today.
You both wrote about aqueducts. That got my attention too, but again, I didn’t want to jump to assumptions that something wasn’t right.
But the two essays are verbatim, Talia. Identical, down to the commas and down to the one typo you both have.
When you describe the public baths in Ancient Rome, you both wrote therms rather than thermae, which would have been the correct plural for therma. ”
Victor rises from his chair, rounding the desk to come and stand behind me.
“You understand my predicament as I have to grade these, right?” His hands land on the back of the chair.
He isn’t touching me, but I can feel his body heat behind me and his breath fanning on the top of my head.
“It’s blatantly obvious that someone copied.
That’s cheating; Talia, and Professor Cantucci and this college both have a zero tolerance policy toward cheating. What do you have to say for yourself?”
For a second, I’m totally speechless. I can’t believe that Gen copied my quiz when I had told her clearly that I would help her study, but there was a line I wouldn’t cross.
But more than that. Cheating is bad enough when you aren’t a complete moron and do it in a way that gets you caught.
She was in class like I was, and we covered which things from Ancient Rome we still use today.
She could have written about anything else.
The arches, the road, the justice system.
And if she really were drawing a blank, she should have paraphrased my essay rather than copying it down to the last comma.
“I have nothing to say, Victor.” I decide to be as honest as possible. “Gen and I are sorority sisters, as you know. We studied together.”
He leans over to speak right into my ear. “Do you really expect me to believe that two identical essays, with the same error, are a coincidence? I should be offended that you think I could believe that.”
I fight the urge to squirm. “Have you spoken to Gen? She was sitting behind me. There was no way I could see what she was writing.”
It’s crazy, but I even feel guilty for throwing Gen under the bus. But I was clear with her that I wasn’t happy to let her copy.
Victor’s hands land on my shoulders. “Can you prove that Genevieve copied from you without your knowledge or consent?”
My back stiffens. One of his fingers moves the fabric of Macklin’s jersey to the side, touching the skin at the base of my neck.
His fingers are cold and clammy, and my body breaks out in goosebumps. “No. But she was sitting behind me, not the other way around.” I repeat.