Chapter 32
ASHER
Juliet answers on the first ring.
“Everything is fucked,” I say in way of greeting.
The line is silent for so long that I pull my phone away from my ear to make sure the call didn’t disconnect.
It’s been a few days since I told Summer about the photos that were sent to the administration.
I’ve texted her a few times, called once, and haven’t heard anything in return.
I haven’t seen her around campus, and she hasn’t stopped by my office or the bar.
She’s avoiding me. I thought maybe she needed some space to process exactly what had happened, but I didn’t think she’d ignore me for multiple days.
I want to respect her space, but I miss her, and I’m worried that she’s spiraling. I want to help her. I want to tell her that everything is going to be all right—even when I have no way of knowing that. But what I do know is that as long as she’s with me, I can hurdle any obstacle.
“What happened?” Juliet asks, deadly serious.
“Exactly what everyone was so scared of happening.”
“Someone found out?”
“Someone sent pictures to the dean and the board.”
“Pictures?” she questions incredulously. “What do you mean someone sent them pictures?”
“Someone must have recognized Summer and me and taken pictures of us… in my car.”
“Okay,” she breathes out, a small tone of relief tinging her voice. “This could be worse. There could be a completely innocent reason why she was in your car.”
“No, there’s not,” I deadpan.
There’s another loaded pause on the other end of the line. “How bad are the pictures, Asher?”
“Bad.”
“Have you seen them?”
“Yes, when the dean called me in to discuss what had happened, he asked if I wanted to see them, and I said yes,” I confirm. Though I wish I hadn’t.
The pictures were incredibly intimate. Summer straddling me, us kissing, Summer topless, bare back exposed.
Anger boiled in my blood just thinking about how someone had not only seen Summer in such a compromising private moment, but had also decided to take photos of it and share them with the administration.
Why?
Obviously, someone out there wanted to punish one or both of us.
A disgruntled student, perhaps. I try to think back to all of my students’ grades from last semester. Had anyone failed? Or just barely scraped by? I don’t remember anyone doing that poorly. I normally request to schedule a meeting with any student who is struggling significantly.
Juliet sighs, and even though I can’t see her, I can picture her expression vividly.
She’s probably clutching her phone close to her ear, with her eyes shut, and biting her bottom lip.
I can tell by that one sigh that she has no idea what to do from here, but that this was something she had worried about from the start.
“What are you going to do?” she whispers.
I shake my head and run a frustrated hand down my face. “I don’t know.”
“Have you spoken to Summer about it? Does she have any sort of plan?”
“I told her to expect a meeting with the dean, but I haven’t seen her since.”
“What do you mean? You haven’t talked to her since dropping this bomb on her?” Juliet demands. “Asher,” she groans, the disapproval evident in the tone of her voice.
“It hasn’t been for lack of trying!” I say, attempting to defend myself. “She hasn’t responded to any of my messages.”
“She’s ignoring you?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“I know I don’t know her… but that doesn’t seem like her,” my sister responds hesitantly, as if she really can’t believe that Summer—a girl she met once—could go dark on me. My heart warms at my sister’s gut reaction.
“It doesn’t,” I agree. “I think she might just need some space to brainstorm some sort of solution.”
“Do you think there is a solution?” she asks.
I let out a frustrated moan and resist the urge to slam my fist against my kitchen counter. I curse before replying. “No. Not any good solutions anyway.”
I drop my phone onto the marble countertop with a clatter, then lean heavily against it, hitting the speaker. I scrub my hands over my face, forcing down the urge to yell at this entire situation.
Realistically, what options do Summer and I have?
We break up—which isn’t something I even want to consider.
Summer leaves the program, which I would never forgive myself for letting her do.
Or.
“I think…” I say slowly, not wanting to admit it out loud, but knowing it’s the least painful option we have. “I think I have to quit.”
“Oh, Asher,” Juliet says, drawing the words out. I can tell without seeing her how upsetting the idea is. “But… you love your job.”
“I do,” I agree. “But I love her more, Juliet.”
Juliet lets out a long exhale of breath. “I want to tell you not to risk your career for a girl that you haven’t been seeing for very long, but that’s so damn romantic.”
I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me. “Very grand gesture, huh?”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” she warns, but keeps her tone light.
I can hear her nails tapping against a counter as she lets her mind whir from thought to thought.
“I know you love her,” she says quietly.
“I could see it when you two came to visit. But… I just want you to talk to her before you make any sort of rash decision when it comes to your career.”
“I—”
“She might not want you to, Asher,” she cuts me off. “Summer doesn’t seem like the kind of girl that would let you walk away from a career that you love.”
“It’s my choice, Juliet—”
She cuts me off again. “It is,” she agrees.
“But do you think there’s any possibility that you could end up resenting her for having to leave the job that you worked so hard for?
You attended Cascadia University and knew you wanted to teach there before you’d even gotten your Master’s.
Even if it’s your idea to quit, or you think you won’t resent her in the end… is that something you can be sure of?”
I want to say yes, but I know what Juliet is asking.
How can I know that I won’t resent Summer for the loss of this job?
Because I am the one in the wrong. I have the power position above Summer, and even though I hadn’t used that position to get her to do something she didn’t want to… I’m older. I’m the professor.
If anyone should be punished here, it should be me, not her.
“I have to do this,” I tell my sister, no room for argument in my tone. “I’ll find another university that I love, but I won’t find another woman to love like her.”
“As long as you’re sure,” Juliet responds, but I can hear the smallest tint of approval in her words.
“I’m sure.”