Chapter 3
TARA
Alfie’s doing his scary bad boy routine beside me, which is really not helping our “we’re very sorry and responsible” narrative.
“You both know why you’re here, hm?” Nope, not at all, we accidentally wandered in here for fun.
I keep my sarcasm to myself and nod while Alfie continues his impression of a freakin’ thundercloud.
The grandfather clock behind the dean’s desk ticks away, counting down the seconds until my dignity completely evaporates.
I smooth my white blazer for the third time, carefully arranging the sleeves. My hair is fine. My makeup is fine. Everything is fine.
I exhale, shoulders back, chin up.
“I think you should see this,” the dean says, turning his monitor toward us. The grainy security footage shows the geology building’s main hallway, dimly lit and empty until—oh God.
There we are, stumbling into frame. Past-me has Past-Alfie pressed against a display case, and even in black and white it’s clear we’re enthusiastically acquainted with each other’s mouths.
I sink lower in my chair as Past-Alfie lifts Past-me onto the case. It would all be quite past-sexy if I wasn’t watching it in the dean’s office.
I should be completely mortified. My brother’s best friend. A display case full of rare fossils. A kiss so reckless it set off a chain reaction—literally.
But as the footage plays, the only thing I can focus on isn’t the moment we got caught.
It’s the way he looked at me right before he kissed me. Like all his flawlessly maintained control was finally, beautifully shattering.
“That display holds Charnia fossils that are over 560 million years old,” the dean says dryly.
“Excellent craftsmanship on that case,” Alfie comments. “Very sturdy.”
I kick his foot. He coughs.
The footage continues, showing us disappearing off-screen. Moments later, the sprinkler system activates, drenching everything in sight.
Well, shit.
This was reckless. Stupid. Who doesn’t check for cameras?
Who doesn’t think ahead? I’ve spent my whole life believing I was sharp enough to see through anything, and yet—Troy and Mom fooled me for years.
Maybe they were right. Maybe I am too soft.
Too na?ve. I think about the lie Troy and my mom kept from me.
A protective lie, one they told because they thought I couldn’t handle the truth.
My stomach knots as I stare at the screen.
I never noticed the cracks in my perfect little world until they shattered it for me.
“Do you have any idea,” the dean’s voice drops dangerously low, “how many thousands of dollars worth of samples were destroyed?”
“We’re so sorry,” I say quickly, “but as you can see, we didn’t do anything to set off the sprinklers. It’s entirely a coincidence that—”
“So, you maintain you were the only ones in the building that night?”
Alfie and I exchange the briefest glance. We’d agreed—no throwing Ethan under the bus. Not when he’s already on thin ice after nearly getting accused of plagiarism last year. “Yes,” we say in unison, probably too quickly to be believable.
The dean studies us for a long moment. “Well, I can’t definitively pin the water damage on you two. But breaking and entering school property?” He clicks off the footage. “That I can prove.”
“Well, I think this matter can be resolved quickly and painlessly.” He pauses dramatically, clearly expecting one of us to crack and confess.
“Since the two of you maintain the notion that you were the only people at this little gathering—” nice way to put our make-out session “—I think we can forget this all happened with some community service.”
Wait, what? Community service? That’s it? Not expulsion, not academic probation, not a strongly worded letter to my parents about their daughter’s complete lack of judgment?
He shuffles some papers. “However, should either of you fail to complete the required sixty hours by the deadline, academic probation will be enacted. Additionally, a note about this incident will be placed on your record.”
My stomach drops. That’s… bad. Really bad. Not just a slap on the wrist. Something that could actually impact grad school applications, internships, future job opportunities.
Alfie stiffens beside me. I chance a glance at him, but his expression is unreadable.
The dean continues. “This is a generous alternative to suspension, which was strongly considered.”
Well, that explains why the tension in my chest just tripled.
I nod enthusiastically.
“Here at UMS we’d rather have you help out the community than resort to any other sort of archaic punishment right away. This is more of a delight than a punishment, hm?”
“Sixty hours over summer should do it,” he says, shuffling papers on his desk.
“And it’s handy that there are two of you, since we have a buddy policy—nobody should be working alone.
You two can work out between yourselves what times work best and talk to Janine about what needs doing.
She’ll be your supervisor.” He peers at us over his glasses.
“I don’t want this incident to go into the next academic year, and I suspect you don’t either. ”
Oh perfect. Sixty hours of forced quality time with Alfie “I’m too mysterious for emotions” Spencer.
Just what my summer needed. Getting caught making out in the geology department like some ditzy cliché.
I can already picture the knowing looks - the blonde party girl who can’t be trusted to take anything seriously.
Never mind that I got straight A’s last semester, or that I’ve already lined up this amazing job at Luzia.
Nope, one moment of poor judgment and suddenly I’m Elle Woods before law school.
God, Alex would never end up in this situation.
She’s probably doing something incredibly mature and professional in California right now, while I’m sitting here trying to explain why I was caught kissing a boy after hours.
Beside me, Alfie’s jaw is clenched so tight I can practically hear his teeth grinding. If he’s trying to look innocent, he’s failing spectacularly. Though honestly, Alfie Spencer has likely never tried to look innocent in his life. I wonder if he came out of the womb with a frown.
“Do either of you have any questions?” the dean asks, already reaching for his phone like we’re yesterday’s news.
“Yeah,” Alfie speaks for the first time, voice all dark and stormy. “What if we can’t work together?”
I whip my head around so fast I probably give myself whiplash. Seriously? After everything we went through to keep each other’s secrets? After I lied to the dean’s face.
The dean’s eyebrows shoot up like they’re trying to escape his forehead. “Then I suppose we’ll have to revisit the more serious consequences. Academic probation and possible suspension?”
Alfie retreats back into his sullen silence, which is apparently his default setting. I resist the urge to kick him again.
“Wonderful!” I jump in with my best ‘student body president’ smile, the one I usually reserve for parent weekends and trying to convince Troy I definitely didn’t borrow his car. “We’ll make it work. Right, Alfie?”
He grunts something that could generously be interpreted as agreement.
Or possibly he’s choking on all that energy he’s radiating.
He’s got this intensity that makes it hard to breathe sometimes.
His every move is laced with controlled power.
His hands are large and I get momentarily distracted watching him twist one of his rings.
I catch myself wondering how those fingers would feel on my skin.
Not that I should be thinking about my brother’s best friend that way. Especially when he’s being a dick.
“Excellent.” The dean waves us toward the door like he’s shooing pigeons. “Janine will be expecting you. And Miss Hawkins?” I pause at the threshold. “Do try to keep Mr. Spencer out of trouble this time.”
I want to protest that I wasn’t the one who started the trouble—that technically, none of this was my fault.
But looking at Alfie’s tense shoulders as he storms ahead down the hallway like he’s auditioning for a dramatic exit, I know there’s no point.
We’re in this mess together now, whether we like it or not.
And boy, do we not like it.
“Hey!” I call after him as he makes his escape. “We need to figure out when to start this.”
“Later.” He cuts me off without turning around, because obviously eye contact is too much to ask from him.
My sandals slap against the polished floor as I chase after him. Very dignified. Though, they do look cute with this outfit. “You can’t just walk away. We need to sort this out!”
He doesn’t slow down. Of course, he doesn’t.
“Sixty hours, Alfie!” I catch up to him outside, slightly out of breath.
Damn his stupidly long legs. “That’s like.
.. that’s like...” I do quick mental math while also trying not to die from impromptu cardio, “ten hours a week! We need to coordinate schedules! We could make this fun to be fair, spend some time together. It could be great!”
He stops so suddenly I almost crash into his back. A pained expression crosses his face when he turns; it’s as if my very existence is giving him a migraine. “Can you not do this right now?”
“Do what? Try to be responsible about our punishment?”
“Be so”—he waves his hand vaguely at my entire existence—“you about everything.”
I cross my arms. “Well, someone has to be me about it, since you’re being so you about it.”
That gets me the ghost of a smile. It’s gone so quick I might have imagined it. He runs a hand through his already messy dark hair and sighs like the weight of the world rests on his very broad shoulders. “Fine. Coffee?”
“What?”
“Coffee. CC’s. We’ll talk schedules.” He’s already walking again.