Chapter 9
IVY
My week had been going great until Eleyna walked straight into the studio and up to me. She was walking too quickly for it to be a coincidence. Her eyes locked on mine with purpose, and I knew before she even said a word: this wasn’t going to be a casual run-in.
She walked toward me with too much confidence for someone who usually kept her head down around campus. That shaky little laugh and sweet-as-sugar expression she used with Will? Gone. Now she looked smug.
“Figured you’d be here,” she said, crossing her arms, and looking around the studio before her eyes met mine again. “No Will?”
I bit the inside of my cheek and tightened the grip around the brush I had just dipped into yellow paint. “It’s Thursday. He’s in class.”
“Right.” She pursed her lips, looking at the almost empty canvas behind me. “Pretty. What’s that going to be?”
I didn’t feel like talking to her about my paintings. Not when she looked at me in that condescending way. “What do you need, Eleyna?”
“I wanted to talk to you about something,” she said, looking way too damn amused. “Something important.”
I said nothing. Just waited. My stomach was already beginning to twist.
She smiled tightly. “I don’t want to sugarcoat it. I saw you with Professor Novak.”
The words hung in the air between us, heavier than they should’ve been. I stared at her, trying to decide if it was better to deny it or stay silent.
“You know, last Friday, by the vending machines out there,” she added, her voice calm now, almost polite. “You were…close. Very close.”
Still, I said nothing. My fingers curled around the brush even more until my nails dug into my palms.
“I couldn’t really see your faces because Will was standing with his back toward me, but then…you kissed. Like, actually kissed.” She looked disgusted, as if she never dreamed of kissing him.
What a hypocrite.
“Eleyna.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, interrupting me with a stupid grin. “I’m pretty sure you won’t be kicked out. He will, though. Probably.”
I blinked. “You went to the Dean? You snitched?”
“I had to,” she said, all face concern now. “It’s unethical. He’s your professor, Ivy. There are rules about these things.”
“You actually told the Dean.” My voice came out lower than I expected. Not shaky. Just quiet.
She nodded. “Of course. You don’t have to thank me.”
A cold wave of dread washed over me. My skin went hot, then cold again.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I said finally, forcing the words out.
Eleyna shrugged, like she couldn’t believe I was upset. “You’re not the only student who admires him. The rest of us have to follow the rules.”
There it was.
Jealousy.
God.
What. A. Bitch .
My heart was pounding. “This isn’t about rules. This is about you being jealous.”
She uncrossed her arms and tilted her head to the side. “Call it whatever you want. But someone needed to say something. You crossed a line.”
I stared at her for a second, trying to decide if I should scream or cry. I did neither.
Instead, I asked her to leave.
Nicely.
But if I hadn’t the strength to keep calm, I would’ve attacked her. Thankfully, I wasn’t a violent person.
“I kinda want to feel sorry for you,” she told me as she turned around to leave. She stopped by the door and looked at me over her shoulder. “But I won’t. Because you took what I wanted. And now neither of us can have him.”
Tears finally rolled down my cheek once she was out of eyesight, and I found myself catching my breath. My throat felt tight, my heart almost exploding in my chest.
I was shaking all over as I reached into my book bag to take out my phone and send Will a text.
I need to see you.
I hit send.
Did he already get called to the Dean’s office? Maybe he was still in class, teaching.
Maybe Eleyna was bluffing. Maybe she didn’t even tell the Dean.
Either way, I needed to talk to Will.
I needed him to hold me and help me calm down.
Moments later, my phone vibrated with his reply.
Please come to the Dean’s office.
My heart sank, and everything around me crumbled.
Shit…
I didn’t even clean my brushes. I left them sitting in the water jar and walked out of the studio with my legs shaking beneath me. The walk across campus and to the admin wing of the college felt longer than usual, and while it wasn’t like that, it felt like everyone passing by was judging me.
I was sweating, and I felt guilty for feeling what I felt for Will.
My fingers trembled as I pushed open the door to the hallway leading to the Dean’s office. The assistant at the desk glanced up and smiled at me. She didn’t look like she knew what was going on.
“How can I help you?” she asked, leaning forward with her elbows on the desk.
“I uh…Professor Novak called me here.”
She looked down at the small note in front of her, then nodded. “Ah, yes. Ivy Hill.”
“That’s me.”
“All right, Ivy, please enter,” she said, her smile consistent as she gestured to the door behind her.
“Thanks.” I knocked once before entering.
Will was sitting across from Mr. Hartley, his spine straight but tense, his expression unreadable. His eyes shot to mine the second I stepped in, and something in his jaw relaxed slightly.
“Ivy,” Mr. Hartley said. He was in his late fifties, always polite, always sharp-eyed. “Take a seat.”
I did. Right next to Will. He gave me a tight smile, but neither of us said anything.
“I want to be clear that this is a professional conversation,” Hartley began, interlocking his fingers on the desk. “And no disciplinary action is being taken at this time.”
I sat still, staring at him with glassy eyes. We all knew why we were here, and it felt strange. At least, to me it did.
He looked at us both. “A student came forward with concerns about your relationship. Namely, that there may be inappropriate contact between a faculty member and a student. Ivy, I’m not asking you to confirm or deny anything. But I do want to be very clear about what the college’s position is.”
My heart pounded.
I just swallowed, unable to say anything.
Mr. Hartley turned to Will. “Mr. Novak, technically, you are not employed as a full-time professor. You’re an adjunct art instructor. You were contracted through the college’s artist-in-residence program, which, legally, places you under a different classification.”
Will raised his brows. “Meaning?”
“Meaning, the rules are…less rigid,” the Dean said carefully. “We don’t have a formal faculty-student relationship policy that governs guest instructors or contracted artists the same way it does tenured staff. That said, the spirit of the code of conduct still matters.”
So they couldn’t fire him.
But they weren’t thrilled about us, either.
“The optics are the issue,” the Dean added. “This isn’t about legality. It’s about how things look to the rest of the campus. If the rumor spreads, it could damage both your reputations. Ivy, yours especially, if other students feel uncomfortable or claim favoritism.”
I felt Will tense beside me.
“We can’t, and won’t, terminate Mr. Novak’s contract over an assumption, nor will we penalize you, Ivy. But we expect discretion. If there is anything more than a professional relationship here, we’re asking that it not play out on campus. Understood?”
I nodded slowly. “Yes, sir.”
Will matched my nod. “Understood.”
Mr. Hartley sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I trust both of you to be smart about this. I’d rather not have another meeting like this one.”
“Of course not, Mr. Hartley.”
We stood to leave, and as we turned toward the door, Mr. Hartley added, “And for what it’s worth, Ivy…you’re a very talented student. Make sure nothing, and no one, derails that.”
I smiled tightly. “Thanks.”
We stepped out into the hallway and kept walking until we were around the corner, out of sight, behind a set of tall bookshelves near the back of the building.
Then I stopped, turned to Will, and finally let out the breath I’d been holding.
“That could’ve gone worse,” I said quietly with a nervous laugh.
He nodded, watching me closely. “But it could still get worse.”
I leaned into his chest, feeling his arms wrap tightly around me. I needed to be close to him.
“I don’t care,” I murmured. “They can’t take you away from me.”
“Not unless we give them a reason,” he whispered into my hair, cupping the back of my head with one hand. “So we don’t. Not anymore. Not here.”
Turning my head to look up at him, I whispered, “But at your place?”
His smile was small but it said so much. “Yeah, at my place. And you’ll be graduating next summer,” he reminded me, making it sound like a silent promise.
Everything between us had to be quieter. Hidden better.
But it didn’t mean it was over.
If anything, it made me want him even more.
WILL
Normally, the smell of fresh paint and turpentine in the studio grounded me. But it was different today. It was noisy, and more students than usual filled the space.
I walked in with a sketchbook tucked under one arm and a box of new supplies for the class under the other.
The students were already spread out, brushes moving, canvases quietly filling with color.
There was a strange tension in the room, but the moment I saw Ivy sitting quietly in front of her painting, my nerves eased a little.
She was perched on her stool, hunched a little, brush held just above the canvas but not moving. I wanted a painting of her like that in my house.
Her stillness wasn’t concentration. It was tension.
I followed her gaze before she even turned her head, and that’s when I sawEleyna.
She walked in with her head high, her ponytail swishing behind her like some kind of statement. She went straight to her usual seat, smiling at her friends before her eyes locked on mine.
I looked away, hating the way she grinned, feeling way too damn proud. I wasn’t looking at her because I wanted to. I was looking because I wanted to make sure she wouldn’t bother Ivy.
I turned away, putting my things away before clearing my throat and turning my attention to the students. “All right. Since there’s so many of you here today, I want you to be patient with me. I will take my time to look at your work, and answer questions if you have any. That said…enjoy painting.”
Some muttered “thank you” or gave me a nod, others turned away without a word, way too focused on what they’re working on.
My gaze flickered over to Ivy for a moment, and the tiny smile she gave me made me relax a little. She was okay, and she was telling me not to worry. I gave her a nod, then headed to the first student who had a question.
While I took my time with each student, I kept getting closer to Eleyna. And the closer I got, the more I understood what she was saying. I didn’t hear everything. Just a few bits and pieces of her conversation with her friend.
When the words alone, studio, so wrong fell, I knew she was talking about Ivy and me. I didn’t react. Didn’t want to put fuel to the fire, but when I heard her call Ivy an embarrassment and a slut , I’ve had enough.
I looked over at Ivy to make sure she didn’t hear any of that, but she dropped her brush into her water cup, her hand trembling.
My jaw tensed, and I took the few steps toward Eleyna. I kept my expression blank when I told her, “Come with me.”
Her brows lifted. “Oh? Why?”
“I need a word. Outside.”
She hesitated, looked around, trying to decide whether to make a scene. She must’ve decided against it, because she followed me through the door leading into the hallway.
I let the door shut behind us before I turned to face her.
“You need to stop talking about Ivy.” My voice was quiet, even.
Eleyna straightened her back, eyes narrowing slightly. “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”
I stepped closer, not menacing, but enough to make her back straighten even more.
“You came to me for help more than once this semester. You asked for critiques, feedback, extra time, attention. I gave it. You want to know what I didn’t give you?
Mixed signals. I never once led you on, Eleyna. So don’t act like I did.”
She flinched.
“If you’re hurt, fine. Be hurt,” I continued, voice low. “But if you keep spreading rumors, if you keep making Ivy feel unsafe in my studio, I’ll take it up with the departement and make sure you’re removed from my course.”
Her eyes widened. “You can’t—”
“I can,” I cut in. “Because unlike most of your professors, I’m not tenured. I’m contracted. And I choose who’s in my section. If I believe you’re creating a hostile environment, you’re out.”
She stared at me, mouth parted slightly, like she didn’t know whether to argue or cry.
“And one more thing,” I said, stepping even closer. “Whatever you think you saw…stay out of my private life. And leave Ivy the hell alone.”
I didn’t wait for her response. I turned, opened the studio door, and stepped back inside.
Laughter quieted when I entered. Conversations paused, but only for a moment. It all went back to normal, and I went straight to Ivy, standing next to her so both our backs were facing the rest of the students.
She didn’t look at me right away.
“I’m so sorry,” I murmured. I gently touched her thigh. In this position, nobody could see. “I handled it.”
She finally glanced up at me, her eyes glassy but fierce. “I hate her.”
“I know,” I said gently, rubbing my thumb over her thigh. “But she won’t bother you again.”
She nodded slowly and looked at her painting.
I gave her thigh a quick squeeze before moving back to my space, and I kept looking over at her, just to make sure that she was okay.
In here, on campus, and anywhere else, I was going to make sure she stayed safe.