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Chapter 148

What did you think I'd say to that?
Does a scorpion sting when fighting back?
They strike to kill, and you know I will

— Taylor Swift, Mad Woman

. . . .

The rest of my break lingered on the edge of uneventful. We hadn't gone on any dates. We stayed home every night until I finally had to leave yesterday evening to come back to the apartment. The entire downfall of Harry and Spencer's friendship left a sour taste on the remainder of my break.

Coming back home still bummed me out as it usually does despite the shift in attitude between us. We were still ourselves around one another but it was just downplayed.

It feels almost refreshing to come back to the apartment and away from the explosion of betrayal that went off between the friends in our bedroom. Being in that house reminded me of being coaxed to lie to my boyfriend and the arguments tossed around between the three of us.

However, I still miss Harry while I'm here.

Ironically, every day since Spencer had left, I was the one that was tiptoeing around Harry and the slight mention of his ex-best friend. It was a complete one-eighty flip from how I felt last week. I wasn't sure how exactly he feels about losing his best friend, but I know it's not relief or cheerful.

I had to return to school yesterday to pick back up on my studies. The lectures and lessons carried on as if they had never got cut off, one of my professors even mentioned the next upcoming test, which I was already feeling stressed over. It was the first day back and they're already thinking ahead to the next exam?

As for my accusatory email I had sent the dean, my inbox remains clean. For the past five days, I had not heard anything from neither him nor anyone else in the administration. I had begun to panic with more time passing. I thought he didn't care or thought I was saying these things simply because I didn't like Dr. Spencer's teaching styles or didn't like him in general. In all transparency, I truly don't like him, but I would never concoct a false story to get someone terminated from their job simply because I didn't like them.

If it absolutely comes to it, I guess I'll just have to push myself to the end of the semester and get it over with. I need this class for my credits and I really don't want to drop the class, despite it possibly being too late, and having to take it again in the fall.

I will stick with it. I must stick with it.

If he's my professor, so be it. He'll just have to wait for the joyous moment where the students write evaluations of their professors at the end of each semester.

Today, however, I might possibly have to face him again. I have his class first and I'm dreading walking into that lecture hall to see that horrible man standing at the podium. No one else knows what had happened, and who knows if the dean even saw the email or cared? What if it went into his junk mail? What if he or his assistant deleted it by accident?

I walk up the stairs to the second floor and round the corner to head to my lecture hall, I don't even make it halfway before bumping into none other than Dr. Spencer himself. He holds a big box in his arms. I can't tell what the contents hold, but a black desk lamp sticks out the top. It's a safe guess to say that he's clearing out his office.

I feel a bolt of energizing electricity sizzle through me. Was my email to the dean effective? Was I not received as just another stuck-up girl that didn't get what she wanted so she accused her professor of inappropriate actions? I'm beyond ecstatic right now.

"What do you want?" He asks maliciously.

I take in his appearance. His once decently attractive face droops with exhaustion. The under-portions of his eyes are sallow and blue from lack of sleep. His hair is missing its natural hold gel, and his blue eyes are void of shine. Dark green and slight navy spots scatter his skin from where Harry had beaten his face. His appearance now reflects the kind of person I've come to know.