“Really.”
“Yes!” he said. He looked at me closely. “Why? Does someone else know?”
“Apparently, yes. Someone sent a letter to Tessa, telling her that she needed to write a paper or else they were going to come forward about what we were doing. So unless it was you—or Colette—someone else seems to have found out.”
I could tell from the horrified expression on Jack’s face that it hadn’t been him, which I kind of knew anyway.
“Shit,” he said. “That is not good. What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to try to figure out who the fuck it is and then probably kick their ass.”
“Leo, what you need to do is stop this, right now. If you stop it now, the fallout might not be so bad. What kind of evidence could this person have? You weren’t stupid enough to be doing anything with her right out in public, right?”
“No,” I said, though I couldn’t quite remember.
“Does Kristin know?”
“Kristin? As in my teaching assistant, Kristin?”
“Yes—does she know?”
“I don’t think so. Why? You think it was her?”
Jack shrugged. “In the realm of possibilities, I wouldn’t totally count her out. You’re probably completely oblivious to it, but I’ve seen how she looks at you.”
“And how is that?”
“Well . . . like someone who might take issue with the fact that you’re having this sort of relationship with a student.”
“Then I’ll confront her about it.”
“But what if it’s not her? Then you’ve just let someone else in on something you’re trying to keep quiet.”
“What the hell do you want me to do, then? You’re the one who’s running your mouth about it!”
“You should stop, Leo! That’s what you should do. You cannot stand there and tell me that you think this is going to have a good ending. The only way this ends well is if you put a stop to it now.”
I shook my head. “I’m not doing that.”
Jack looked at me sadly. “Then I don’t know what to tell you,” he said.
“Seeing as I didn’t come over here for your advice, that’s perfectly fine. But I’ll give you a little tip: stay out of my goddamn business. I don’t give a shit if you want to hang out with Colette—fuck her, for all I care—but don’t talk to her about me. Okay? Great, thanks.”
I stalked out of his apartment, slamming the door behind me.
17.
Tessa
I had to take a break.
It was Sunday afternoon, and I’d been working all morning, fueled by coffee and a bagel from across the street. But my eyes were starting to hurt from looking the computer screen, and my neck had a crick in it, and my ass felt like it was as flat as a pancake because I’d been sitting for so long.
I stood up and stretched, then went over and called Leo.
“I was just thinking about you,” he said when he picked up. “How’s it going?”
“It’s all right,” I said. “I’ve been writing papers all morning. I think my brain’s about to explode.”