Jackson
We tell the dean about our relationship the following Monday.
Dean Whitmore listens to our explanation how we tried to keep it professional, how feelings developed despite our best efforts, and how we’re coming forward now to be transparent.
“Mr. Rivera, Ms. Sharma,” he says when we finish. “You understand this violates the TA code of conduct.”
“Yes, sir,” we say in unison.
“Ms. Sharma, you’ll be removed from your TA position effective immediately and placed on academic probation for the remainder of the semester.”
Priya nods, accepting the consequences.
“Mr. Rivera, you’ll be assigned a new tutor for Chemistry and I expect you both to maintain appropriate boundaries going forward.”
“We will,” I promise.
“However,” he continues, “given that you’ve come forward voluntarily and there’s no evidence of academic impropriety, I’m not going to pursue further disciplinary action. Consider this a warning.”
“Thank you,” Priya says.
We leave his office hand in hand, and despite the probation and consequences, I’ve never felt lighter.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Better than okay. Free.” She smiles and for the first time I see a real smile.
Three weeks later, Priya’s standing in the rink watching the conference championship game. No longer hiding, no longer pretending we’re just TA and student.
We win in overtime, and I skate straight to the boards where she’s waiting.
“We did it,” I say, breathless.
“You did it. That goal was incredible.”
“I had motivation. Knew you were watching.”
She laughs, and god, I love that sound.
After the game, after the celebration, we end up back at my studio.
“I got the RISD acceptance,” I say, showing her the email.
“Jackson! That’s amazing!”
“Full ride. Graduate program in painting.”
“You’re going to be incredible.”
“Come with me. To Providence. Take your gap year there. We can get an apartment, you can take photos, I can paint. We’ll figure out the rest as we go.”
“You want me to move to Providence with you?”
“I want you with me. Wherever that is.” I pull her closer to me, never wanting to far from her.
She’s quiet for a moment, and I hold my breath, waiting.
“Yes.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. Let’s go to Providence. Let’s figure it out together.”
I pull her into my arms, kissing her like it’s the first time and the last time and every time in between.
“I love you, Priya Sharma.”
“I love you too, Jackson Rivera.”