I don’t recognize the number, but I answer anyways.
“Good morning Ms. Jones. This is Tilly McMahon calling from the Provost’s Office at Hudson University. I was wondering whether you would be able to come in to talk today?” I freeze. Because I’m not answering, Tilly continues, her voice serious now. “I strongly suggest you comply, Ms. Jones, as it will give you a chance to explain your side of the story. I think you’ll find it in your best interest.”
My side of the story. Oh god. This is about that video of me in Jordan’s limo – am I about to lose my scholarship? And as soon as the thought crosses my mind, I know it must be true. If Jordan, a billionaire donor, can be disciplined for sleeping with a student, then I can definitely be disciplined as a nobody who made a viral sex video. My stomach sinks, knowing things are about to get a whole lot worse.
Chapter 15
KATIE
In a daze, I get dressed in my most respectable outfit and head down to the financial aid office to meet the Provost. I sit silently in her office, listening to the old lady drone on. Evidently, they can no longer fund my scholarship because of recent events.
“It’s not just that you slept with a major donor while a student at our institution,” the Provost explains, while the Dean of Student Affairs looks on, “but the video evidence has become so trendworthy as to threaten Hudson University’s image. I hope you understand. We can’t let you tarnish the school’s reputation.”
I nod, feeling numb, and the Provost continues.
“Until this happened, you were an exemplary student, and we’ve taken that into account. We’ve decided to let you finish the school year, but as of the end of this term, your scholarship will be revoked,” she continues. I detect a hint pity in her voice. Panic starts flooding through me. The look on my face must be telling, because the Dean of Student Affairs shoots me a kind look.
“You’re not in trouble, Katie. You’re not being expelled,” she says. I turn to her, tears brimming in my eyes.
“But without the scholarship, you are effectively expelling me,” I say. “I can’t afford the tuition without it.”
“You should have thought about that before sleeping with Mr. Marks, and on school grounds in broad daylight, Ms. Jones,” says the Provost coldly. I’m speechless. I had been so focused on the issue of sleeping with my boyfriend’s dad, that I never even considered what our affair might mean in broader terms.
I sniffle and the two women share a look.
“Katie, there is one way we can make sure you keep your scholarship, but it would involve going down a different route,” the Dean says carefully.
“What? How? I’ll do it,” I promise, raising tear-stained eyes.
“There’s the matter of consent – if you felt Mr. Marks was taking advantage of you -”
“It was consensual,” I interrupt her.
“Well, if you were to suddenly remember that he’d forced you somehow, there could be a lot of money in it for you. In fact, it could save your scholarship,” she says reasonably, like flinging false accusations at the man I love is something I’d even consider. I stand abruptly. I’ve heard enough. I can’t believe they’re encouraging me to try and frame Jordan.
“Is there anything else?” I ask coldly. Both the Dean and the Provost shake their heads and I turn and leave, feeling the sobs building up in my throat. I storm out of the office and run down the hallway, turning a corner. And almost collide with the large bulk of a man in an impeccable suit. Oh god, it’s Jordan. What are the chances?
His eyes go wide with recognition as the two of us stand there for a moment, staring at each other. The grey of his suit brings out the blue of his eyes, the perfectly-cut fabric highlighting his muscular frame. Even through the shock of having lost my scholarship, I can still feel my body reacting to his presence. I long for him to take me in his arms and whisk me away somewhere.
“Katie,” he growls. “Are you okay? What happened?” I’m about to explain, but then tears start falling from my brimming eyes and streaming down my face. Through my tears, I can see Jordan’s expression of rage and helplessness at my emotion. But even though the corridor of the admin building is quiet, we’re not alone. He glances around and then takes me by the hand.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” he says roughly, and I allow him to escort me from the building, not caring about being seen or talked about. As we cross the parking lot, I notice one or two people whispering and pointing at us, with one or two phrases that sound like “That’s Jimmy’s dad!” and “She’s been having an affair with Jimmy’s dad!” But I refuse to meet their gazes. Jordan’s hand is firmly and proudly around mine as he guides me across to his car. At least it’s not the limo this time. Instead, it’s a shiny black sedan.