I roll my shoulders to ease the tension in my neck and back, still waiting. Mr. Edlund opens a file folder on his desk and studies the contents.

“As I understand it, this is a unique case, which occurred very recently, and which has not been reported by any other sources, other than the two of you. I appreciate that Mr. Kent has come forward in a timely manner, just as you’re now doing. As for the next steps. I’ve asked Mr. Kent to continue his teaching role until further notice, so that other students are not impacted by an abrupt disruption in their senior year course curriculum.”

“Unfortunately, I won’t be able to allow you to remain enrolled in his World History course. Looking at your credits, I believe you can replace this with either Religious Studies, Psychology, Human Anthropology, or Advanced Ethics, without affecting your timetable or graduation schedule. All four courses are taught by Mrs. Morgan.”

Instantly, I release the long breath I’d been holding in. Jackson’s safe for now. I am too. Although, I do hear the way his tone changes as he stresses the words religious, ethics and Mrs., and have to force down the smile threatening to rise on my face. He may not have come out and openly judged me for sleeping with Jackson, but I can read between the lines. He doesn’t approve. I’m sure he’s hoping one of these ethically conscious courses will influence my future choices. And if they don’t, they’re all taught by a woman, which he must believe will lessen the odds of me repeating the behavior with another teacher.

Still, I’m confused. He has no reason to be so accommodating to both of us.

But I won’t argue with this way forward.

“Thank you, Mr. Edlund,” I finally say. “I’ll go over my course schedule and replace the course right away.”

“I’m not done,” he barks. “If you’re hoping to remain at this institution, I will need Mr. Kent’s and your assurance that what transpired between you two will not happen again for the duration of the school year. Can you make such a commitment, Miss Richards?”

I’m not sure what to think or how to respond. He wants me to agree to stop seeing Jackson? As much as I’d like to believe that waiting is an option, it’s not a promise I can make alone. Jackson would have to agree to it too, and that’s doubtful, considering what went down at my place last night.

“If you believe this will be a challenge, it may be more suitable for me to have a conversation with your parents and recommend that you spend your final term of high school at another institution… perhaps at the designated public school closest to where you live.”

This is an interesting development. Jackson can stay, but if I want to continue seeing him, I’m the one who has to leave. There has to be more to this that he’s not telling me. But sitting here, I’m sure that no amount of probing or questioning on my part will change a thing. I don’t want my parents to have to deal with any of this.

I get to my feet. “I’ll look into all of your recommendations and let you know as soon as possible. Thank you for…everything.”

“Enjoy the rest of your weekend, Miss Richards,” he says, and I leave his office with a few more options at my disposal.

“Kara.” I find Jackson waiting for me in the hallway. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Agreed,” I say to him, relieved that the worst is over.

“How did it go?” he asks as we walk to the parking lot.

“Really good, considering,” I answer. “I can’t believe he’s letting us both off the hook with barely any repercussions. Why is he so nice to us?”

“He’s not being nice. He’s looking out for his own ass… and his daughter’s.”

“Oh, right.” I stop between our cars. It all makes sense now. “I forgot Brianna Edlund is in your class.”

“Yes, and she needs to complete it now. It’s a prerequisite for a college level class next semester.”

“I see. That’s why he wants you to keep teaching the course. Did he tell you to stop seeing me immediately?”

Jackson nods and huffs out a breath. “Yeah, that was the first thing that came out of his mouth.”

“Did you agree to it?”

He takes a step toward me, runs his hand down my arm, and clasps our palms together. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea, Jackson. I want to keep getting to know you, but Mr. Edlund has a point. It doesn’t look good, me seeing you, even if I’m not in your class.”

“Then I’ll give him my letter of resignation,” he announces with not an ounce of regret. “There’s only one person I care about in this whole damn school. It’s not Edlund or his daughter.”

“And I care about you.”

A car rolls into the parking lot, pulling us from the moment. “Let’s talk about this at my place,” Jackson tells me.

“Okay.” I unlock my doors with the remote, and he pulls my door open for me to sit inside.

“See you in a bit,” he says.

On his way to his driver side door, I sit in my vehicle, thinking about everything. Then I hear my phone buzzing non-stop with text messages.

It’s Pattie. The phone doesn’t stop. She’s on a mission to reach me, calling, then texting, then calling again. It’s as though she’s keying in one text to me, hitting the send button, then phoning me to find out if I read it. And when I don’t, she keys in yet another text. Around this time on a Saturday, she’s usually at her contemporary, jazz dance class downtown. It’s a program she and at least three of the girls in our high school have attended for years. Which usually translates to a whole lot of gossip on who’s now dating whom, which couple broke up or are in turmoil, or some other dance-related drama that means precious little to me.

I let the phone buzz two or three times, but it keeps going. And going. I don’t want to think about anything right now. Lord knows I’ve got enough on my plate, but I decide I’d better check the messages to avoid Pattie’s wrath if it turns out to be something urgent or relevant to me.

And boy, is it ever.

My stomach does a few flips on unlocking the phone, and with my palm pressed to my chest, I read each message slowly.

Her messages read:

Pattie: Kar. How’s your Saturday going? You will NOT believe what Alicia Munroe is saying about you and Mr. Kent.

Pattie: Hey chica. Call me ASAP. You and Mr. Kent are now subject #1 of dance class. Did you tell anyone?

Pattie: Kar. Alicia Munroe says she and her boyfriend saw you and Mr. Kent kissing at the midway three or four weeks ago.

Pattie: Why aren’t you answering? It’s all over town. Does Mr. Kent have a kid? They’re saying you were with him and his little boy. Like one happy family. All the way back a few weeks ago. Before the semester started!?! How am I just hearing about this? Wait, was that the night you banged him?

Pattie: Do you have a secret love child with Mr. Kent from like, when you were 13 or 14? That’s what these bitches are starting to say. I shut that nasty shit down, but Jeez. Text me back or something.

Pattie: Call me, Kar. Call me, or I’m coming to your house. I want the deets!

My car engine has been turned on all this time, but after reading all of that skewed, muddled garbage, I shut it off. My decision is made. I send a brief text back to Pattie that I’ll explain everything as soon as I can, then I shut off my phone. Heading back inside the school with an empty duffel bag from the trunk of my SUV, I go to my locker and empty it out.

It’s an easy decision. Taking my three remaining courses at a nearby public school is a no-brainer.

This way, everyone will have what they want.

Edlund will have his World History teacher for his daughter.

Jackson will keep his job and career.

The rumors about us won’t stop spreading, but if I’m out of the picture, they’ll die down eventually.

And me? I’ve hit the jackpot. I get the guy.

Instead of going right over to Jackson’s house, I stop at my place and go up to my room. Grabbing the duffel bag, I slide open the zipper. I turn the bag upside down, and as I watch the contents slowly drop onto the center of my bed, it feels strangely symbolic. It's a little sooner than I’d planned, but it had to happen. Dumping my school life, emptying what's inside to make room for the next chapter.

My future with the man I’ve fallen so hard for.