❥𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 • 𝐌𝐉 || ➽─❥ 𝑀𝑂𝐷𝐸𝑅𝑁 𝐴𝑈 • /𝑶𝒏𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈/•

➽─Part Twenty Three─❥

For a good while, all either of you could do was stare at each other, not knowing what was to be said next. His facial expression was indecipherable, but the main feature you noticed was the state of his eyes. For the first time, he looked undisturbed, not anguished like he usually did.

After what felt like an eternity, he regained his bearings, taking a step back from you - a horrified look on his face at what he'd just done. He kept backing away from you until he was closer to his desk.

"I think...it is...best if you leave," he averted his line of sight, unable to directly address you. "And perhaps you...were right to drop my class," he gulped. "I'm sorry about what...just happened, you can stay reassured that it will never happen again,"

At that point, you had already been through the cycle one too many times to be certain that there would have been no use in arguing. Even though there was so much you wanted to say, and a whole lot more than you wanted to ask - it just wasn't the time, nor the place.

So, with nothing more to say, you walked out of the office, not caring to take your graded papers with you.

But before you had gotten the chance to close the door, you saw the college dean, Anderson, marching up to you, wearing a stony expression on his face.

"(Y/LN)," he asserted. "Just the person I intended to see," he halted only when he was right in front of you, giving Michael the opportunity to spot him as well. "And Michael," he turned to look at the teacher, who was still at his desk. "I want to see the both of you in my office, now,"

You grimaced as Anderson turned around, and upon checking to see what Michael's reaction was - you saw that he came off as though he had an idea as to what was going on.

"Last night," he hinted as he let out a breath, brushing past you.

Straight away, it clicked to you, causing your face to turn pale.

"Come on," he urged, taking one last glimpse of you. "We'd better not keep him waiting,"

︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

Anderson spent a couple of minutes watching you and Michael as you remained seated in your chairs, placed next to each other. Of course, the dean himself was seated across from the two of you, giving him a good view of what the energy was like between you and Michael.

Resting his hands on the desk, the dean began to speak. "Now, this morning I received news of a rather inappropriate act happening last night, at the bar across the street," he continuously scanned the both of you, back and forth. "Obviously I already know what happened now, but I want to hear your version," he cleared his throat and leaned forward.

As soon as those words left his mouth, you sensed Michael grow rigid beside you. Being the serious, and practical person he was, he was ready to step up and relay the details of what had occurred the night before - but you beat him to it, choosing to alter your version of events a little.

"Well, Mr. Anderson, you see...I was...incredibly drunk last night, and because I was wasted, I had forgotten my purse when I left, but Mr. Jackson here was kind enough to catch me in time to make sure I didn't leave without it," you smiled, and you could feel Michael's stare dart to you. "And," you shook your head, dramatically feigning embarrassment. "Ugh, and because I was...so gone, I thought my knight in shining armour had finally arrived,"

From your peripheral vision, you could see Michael shake his head as he shielded his face, hoping that Anderson wouldn't notice how ridiculous he felt.

You were sure that Michael was most likely screaming at you in his mind, but you carried on regardless.

"So I kissed him," you went on. "But as professional he is, he was quick to kindly push me away almost as soon as it happened,"

Anderson raised an eyebrow as he listened to your side of the story, his eyes darting to Michael, then back to you. "So the reports of Mr. Jackson pulling you toward him by your purse isn't true?" he inquired.

"Well-"

"Not true," you cut Michael off before he could clarify. "Whoever came up with that idea is an idiot, I'm afraid, because that never happened,"

"Hm," Anderson looked to be mulling over your version of the story, and it was unclear as to whether he believed you or not. "That would explain why there were reports of you further pursuing him,"

"Not my finest moment," you quipped back. "But I can reassure you that it meant nothing - it was all in a fit of drunken madness, and now that I am sober, I can promise you that there is nothing unbecoming happen between my professor and I,"

"I should hope so," he straightened up after the passing of a few seconds, reaching into one of his desk drawers to fetch a crisp piece of paper that looked to be a flyer, making both you and Michael utterly confused. "Because if there had been something inappropriate going on between you, I would have to discipline both parties - and that would mean suspension for you," he glanced at you. "And dismissal for you," he glanced at Michael.

"Right," Michael nodded curtly.

"And it would have also meant that you would have missed the dance that's happening two nights from now," Anderson now spoke solely to Michael. "Something that none of the teachers should have to miss,"

"Oh...yes," Michael seemed as good as disheartened as Anderson slid the flyer toward him. "I remember that from the briefing that I was given when I first arrived,"

"Yes, indeed," the dean smiled.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, preparing to stand up. "You know, if that's all for me, I should probably leave,"

"No wait, (Y/LN), this might have something to do with you," Anderson moved his attention to as Michael sighed, already knowing what you didn't. "The dance that's going to take place is for the teachers, and the board of directors for academic counsel - and for the evening alone, I have permitted the teachers to take either one of their fellow colleagues as their company for the evening, or one of their students," his eyes glimmered, as though his implications didn't match up with what he was saying. "Of course, it's purely on a professional basis, and it will allow the board to see just how well our educators are able to connect with our students," he looked briefly at Michael before his gaze rebounded to yours again. "And I believe you are in Mr. Jackson's class,"

"I don't...." you peeked at Michael from the side of your eye, taking note that he was visibly uncomfortable. "You know what, Mr. Anderson," you moved back to speak to him directly. "I think we can let Mr. Jackson, here, decide for himself,"

And with that, you excused yourself from the office, a small bit of you feeling rather uplifted that you had been able to walk out on your own without another voice to beckon you in another direction.

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