Fake Marriage Box Set

I closed the door. I knew what was coming and wasn’t eager to have my shame and humiliation broadcast to the entire administration office.

I sat down, waiting to hear the words that would paint that giant scarlet A on my chest.

“Miss McShane,” she started, pulling out a file from under a stack of papers, “this is to inform you that you have been expelled from our institution, effective immediately.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play coy, Miss McShane. Your relationship with a certain professor is not only inappropriate, but it violates our code of conduct rules. Expulsion is the consequence for openly and willingly going against a very basic rule,” she explained, in a high-pitched voice that felt like nails on a chalkboard.

“I don’t believe I did anything of the sort.”

She handed me the file. I opened it to see my expulsion paperwork. For reason, it listed a sexual relationship with one of my teachers.

“I’m sorry, but where is your proof?” I asked, not quite ready to admit to anything.

Her thin lips spread wide. “I don’t need proof.”

“Uh, I think you do. And, if you are suggesting my relationship with Professor Dunlap is inappropriate and violates your code of conduct, please show me where it states that in your rule book.” I sat back in my chair. “I’ll wait.”

She quickly highlighted a section on a piece of paper that had been included with my file. “Read it for yourself.”

I quickly scanned it. “I see you have outlined a section that forbids a relationship between a student and a professor. He is not my professor, and I am not one of his students. Therefore, your claims are invalid. I will not be expelled.”

“Yes, you are. It’s already done. Look at the paperwork, dear. You are no longer a student at this institution. Because the expulsion happened after the free add/drop week, you will not be receiving a refund on your tuition for the semester.”

I looked at her with rage and shock. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I said a little too loud. I was losing my cool. “Seriously? Your stupid little rule book says nothing about an assistant and a professor. I am NOT his student. This rule you are basing an expulsion on does not apply. Read it!” I shouted.

She smirked. It was a cold, ruthless contortion of her face that made me want to slap her. She was a cow. I decided at that moment that I hated her.

“I think you fail to see the point. It’s done. Get out.”

I shook my head, standing so I could stare down at her. “It isn’t done. It’s just starting. You will not steal my money nor my degree. You don’t have that kind of power.”

Another smirk followed by a shrug. “Actually, I do. Leave before I have security escort you off campus. Save yourself from any further embarrassment and go quietly. I think you have sullied your reputation enough.”

“What is your problem with me?” I asked, unable to believe how unprofessional the dean was acting towards me. She was acting more like a jealous girlfriend than a woman of a mature age in a position of authority.

She stood, raised her chin, her crow’s feet becoming more defined with her sneer. “I loathe women who seek to better their odds of success by bedding down with any man. It is deplorable. I would have thought in this day and age you young ladies would seek to better yourself with your minds—not your bodies.”

I had to laugh. The woman had no idea. She probably hadn’t been laid since sometime in the early sixties.

“This isn’t over, Dean Scribbs,” I said, walking out the door, refusing to show any shame. I wasn’t proud of my actions, but I was certainly not ashamed of myself. He wasn’t my professor, and I stood to gain nothing by going to bed with him.

I made my way to my car. I felt numb. I had sensed it was coming, but I never fully grasped what it meant. What it would mean for my future? My mom wasn’t wealthy and certainly couldn’t afford to pay for a full year of school. We only had another semester to pay for, and now, the dean was keeping the tuition, and I wouldn’t get the credits I’d paid for.

Did I dare call Ian? Not yet. I may say something I regret. This isn’t his fault. I pursued him. I showed up at his house. While I knew that, I still was feeling a little pissed. Home first, furious cleaning, and then I’ll call him.

I slammed my brakes on in the driveway, nearly careening into the house. The more I thought about everything, the madder I got.

When the phone rang, I considered tossing the phone into the wall. I checked the screen first; it was Ian.

“Hello,” I muttered, trying not to seethe.

“Tessa! Are you okay? Did the dean talk to you?”

I groaned. “Yes, she did. I take it she talked with you as well?”

“What did she say?” he asked in a low voice.