Chapter 3
Lila
Professors weren’t supposed to play favorites, but there were always one or two students in every class who stood out.
They sat in the front row and were engaged during class.
They would complete all their work on time, and jumped on every chance to earn extra credit.
And they usually made a point of introducing themselves on the first day of class, to put a face to the name.
But the two students who approached me at the end of class weren’t that kind.
The first man was tall and handsome, and looked like he was in his mid-twenties rather than straight out of high school. I had never met him before, not in real life.
Because I knew him from Tinder.
Oh no.
He turned to the guy behind him and said, “Hey, do you mind? We don’t need an audience.”
“No problem,” the other guy said, but not before giving me a knowing smile.
Oh my God.
Panicked thoughts raced through my head. I was going to lose my job. The story would be on the news. I would become a pariah in the field of teaching.
“Yeah…” Jace said, grimacing. “I know what you’re thinking right now, because I’m thinking the same thing.”
“I highly doubt that,” I said. “You’re in my class.”
“Uh huh.”
Glancing at the students still shuffling out of the classroom, I lowered my voice. “Your profile said you were, like, twenty-eight.”
“Twenty-seven,” he said with a wry smirk. “But yeah. I’m getting a late start on my degree.”
Now that I had a chance to get a good look at him, he seemed rougher around the edges than in his profile photos.
He was obviously handsome and in great shape, but his eyes were sunken in and his hair was a mess—and not in the sexy way.
He looked like he’d only gotten a few hours of sleep on a couch before rushing to class.
“Do you want to get lunch later?” he asked. “We can talk about this, figure out what we are—”
“We aren’t going to do anything,” I said, shouldering my bag. “I have to go.”
I left him standing there and hurried out of the room like it was on fire.
I glanced at my watch. I had thirty minutes before my next class, so I fled to my office and closed the door. I locked the deadbolt for good measure, then rested against the door.
I waited, listening for Jace to knock and demand that we talk, but the only sound was my heart pounding in my head. I felt like a heroine in a horror movie fleeing from a killer with a knife.
When I was certain he wasn’t coming, I relaxed and pulled out my laptop. It took a few minutes to find the University Code of Conduct, and even longer to find the relevant part:
Faculty-Student Personal Relationships Policy
The University strictly prohibits romantic, sexual, or intimate relationships between faculty members and students over whom they exercise academic, supervisory, evaluative, or advisory authority.
Such relationships create inherent conflicts of interest, undermine the integrity of the educational environment, and may constitute an abuse of power or position.
Faculty members are responsible for maintaining appropriate professional boundaries at all times.
Any relationship that may be perceived as coercive, exploitative, or otherwise compromising to the academic process is prohibited.
Failure to comply with this policy may result in disciplinary action, up to and including termination of employment.
Faculty who become aware of, or who are involved in, a potential violation of this policy are required to disclose the situation to the Office of Academic Affairs. The University will take appropriate steps to eliminate conflicts of interest and protect the welfare of the student involved.
I re-read the first part: romantic, sexual, or intimate relationships. Obviously Jace and I hadn’t done anything physical yet, but the messages we had exchanged could definitely be construed as romantic.
Could I still get in trouble even if it happened before I knew he was my student?
An alert chimed on my phone. I glanced at it and cursed under my breath.
I was late for class.
I grabbed my bag and hurried out of my office. My next class was in another building, so I speed-walked as fast as I was able to in my heels. Why did I have to choose fashion over function today?
I arrived in the classroom four minutes late. It was a smaller room, with only fifteen students filling the individual desks. “Sorry I’m late. I, uh, had the wrong room,” I said.
The students were silent as I walked to the desk at the front and dropped my bag.
“Welcome to Criminology 101,” I announced in what I hoped was my most authoritative voice.
A girl in the front row raised her hand.
“I’ll take questions at the end, thank you.”
She lowered her hand, but glanced around in confusion.
“Hey, Professor?” a kid in the back row called out. He looked strangely familiar to me. “I think you’re in the wrong class. This is Criminology 204: Computer Crime.”
“Shit.” I winced. “I mean… shoot. I’m not in the wrong class. I’m in the right place. I just misspoke. I’m your professor, Lila. I mean, don’t call me by my first name. I’m...”
So much for having confidence on my first day.
I smiled widely at the students. “Let’s start over. I’m Professor Carrington, and this is Criminology 204.”
But my smile faded as I reached into my bag. My laptop wasn’t there.
I’d left it back in my office.
“I seem to be unprepared today,” I announced. “I forgot my laptop. Does anyone have a copy of the syllabus?”
Blank faces stared back at me.
“I got you, Professor,” said the guy in the back who had corrected me earlier.
He walked to the front of the room and inspected the projector cable on the desk.
He had messy blond hair and a nonchalant attitude that reminded me of Kurt Cobain.
Then returned to his seat and flipped open his laptop—which glowed with green and blue LEDs—and began rapidly typing.
Above me, the ceiling-mounted projector hummed to life.
A few seconds later, the class syllabus was being projected onto the screen at the front of the room.
“All yours,” he announced. “Just tell me when to scroll.”
I recovered, but only slightly. All of my confidence from this morning was now gone, and I stumbled through the course syllabus like it was my first day on the job. After going over the course material, I decided to let the class leave early.
“We’ll begin fresh on Wednesday,” I said. “Looking forward to a great semester, everyone.”
The kid in the back was one of the last to leave. “Hey, thanks for the help,” I said as he passed.
“All good. You looked like you were riding the struggle bus.”
I grimaced. “That bad?”
He shrugged. “Nobody cares. Everyone just wants to get through the class. They’ll forget all about it by Wednesday.”
“Thanks… what was your name?”
He gave me a boyish grin. “Cam.”
I scanned the student sheet, which thankfully I had printed out. “Camden Keene?”
“The one and only.”
He still looked weirdly familiar. I glanced up at the projector, and a thought came to me. “Tell me, Cam. How does a student like you have access to the classroom projector, which is only accessible on the private faculty Wi-Fi?”
That wiped the grin off his face in the blink of an eye. He ran a nervous hand through his hair and said, “Oh, well, I… um… the thing is…”
Between the fancy laptop and his knowledge of computers, it all fell into place for me. “Did you hack into the faculty network, Cam?”
All the color drained from his face. “I can’t get in trouble. If the judge finds out…”
“You helped me out, so your secret is safe with me,” I said. “But if I catch you doing anything like that again…”
“Understood, Professor,” he said, then hurried out of my classroom.
Judge? I wondered what that was all about. But I had my own problems to deal with today.
That was my last class of the day. I had some other small tasks to deal with today, like office hours and a few individual advising meetings, but my schedule was clear until after lunch.
I headed back to the main criminology building and stopped by a colleague’s office. Thankfully, he was sitting behind the desk, frowning at a piece of paper.
“Professor Galloway? Do you have a minute?”
He looked up and smiled. “I have as many minutes as you need, Professor Carrington. Please, sit.”
I closed the door behind me and took a seat. Professor Galloway reminded me of my grandfather: grey mustache, thick-rimmed glasses, and a warm smile that invited you in.
“Closed door? Uh oh,” he said.
“I have something I want to run by you,” I said carefully. “As long as I wasn’t interrupting anything?”
He gestured at the paper in front of him.
“A student gave me this after class. It’s a note from her mother.
She says that her daughter is bad with schedules, and that I should excuse her from any tardiness in class or in her assignments, because her teachers in high school always did that.
” He snorted, which caused his mustache to flutter.
“These Gen-Z kids. There’s always an excuse.
But enough about that. How can I help you, Lila? ”
“I have an interesting situation that I would love your opinion on. And your… discretion.”
“Oh my. Let’s hear it, then.”
I spent a few minutes filling him in on the situation with Jace, and even showed him the Tinder exchange. He listened patiently, his face a mask the entire time. By the end, I was terrified of what he might be thinking.
“First of all, everything is fine.” He removed his glasses and rubbed at one of his eyes, then gestured with the spectacles like he was giving a class lecture.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, morally or legally.
But I would send another message on that dating app explaining the situation to the student.
Tell him that anything further between you two would be inappropriate now that you know he’s a student of yours.
Then screenshot the conversation and save it, that way you have a paper trail in case anything comes out, or if your conduct is questioned at all. ”
“Good idea,” I said.
“And obviously, beyond words, don’t take the relationship—such as it is—any further.”
“Obviously,” I replied with a nervous chuckle.
“You brought this issue to me, so I will record our meeting in my contemporaneous notes. If your conduct is questioned in the future, I can corroborate your story and defend you. But I can assure you, Lila, that nothing will come of this. You did nothing wrong. Awkward encounters sometimes happen between a professor and a student. The fact that you immediately came to me tells me that you want to do the right thing.”
“Yes! Exactly.”
He put his glasses back on and smiled. “Forgive me, but I’m terrible with technology. Is there not a way to filter who you find on that dating app? Say, by age? That would help avoid situations like this in the future.”
“There is, and I do. The student is actually twenty-seven, just a year younger than me.”
“Ah. Then the interaction is even more forgivable. Your job—and reputation—are safe, Lila.”
“Thank you so much,” I said. “I’ve spent all morning stressing about this.”
“Which, again, only confirms that you are a good professor and want to do the right thing.” He picked up the piece of paper in front of him again.
“Now I need to decide what to do about this student and her punctuality issues. Have a good semester, Lila, and please let me know if you have any other concerns.”
I returned to my office feeling a lot better than before.
But now I had to text Jace.
And then, with any luck, I would be able to put this entire disaster behind me.