Perfection at Best

7

It was now Thursday, almost a whole week had passed since you'd hightailed it out of Dovey's apartment and back to your room. Even the thought of it sent a shiver of embarrassment down your spine.

You waited exactly fifteen minutes after dinner before you started your theatrics. One might not think minutes of idle conversation could be that bad. But you proved them wrong. The deans were pleasant and their company was perfect, you on the other hand were a mess. Your words were jumbled, you fidgeted with your hands, and you even stuttered; something you thought you'd left behind in your awkward teen years. They could tell something was wrong.

"Y/n, are you okay?"  Clarissa asked. "And don't lie to us. Something's wrong."

You saw your opportunity and you took it, "I'm sorry. I have the world's worst migraine."

"Don't apologize for something you have no control over. Is there anything we can do to help?" 

"Would you like me to make you a cup of chamomile?" 

They were worried. You felt bad for lying to them, but still, you continued. 'It was for the greater good of everyone involved. ' you reasoned to yourself.

"I fear we need to cut this weekend short. I wouldn't want to ruin it."

"I can't in good mind leave you alone in this state," Clarissa said. "Why don't you go lay down in my room, I'll lower the lights." The offer sounded marvelous, hard to pass up on, but you steeled yourself.

It took you a while to assure the women you could handle a silly little migraine without them. The only thing was, they wanted to walk you back to your room. You quickly agreed, a small sacrifice to get what you wanted.

The walk to your room was slow, almost as if the deans were giving your headache a chance to retreat. The door to your room was a welcomed sight.

Time seemed to slow as the women bent and each pressed a kiss against your cheek. That was it, you had to quickly get out of their presence.

And that was the last time you saw them, standing outside your door.

These last few days you went out of your way to not see the deans. Even going as far as changing directions in the hallways if you caught a glimpse of them; skipping lunch, something your body protested at the end of every day.

But today that was all about to change. The deans, themselves had picked up on your new habit of avoiding them and that was quite the opposite of what they wanted.

They'd planned to whisk you away to Lenora's half of the school to have lunch with them where they'd confront you.

You were none the wiser to their plan; too caught up trying to avoid them to realize they were plotting something. If you'd given them even the tiniest fraction of your time this wouldn't have been happening.

"Don't forget your presentation on Ethical Sorcery for the next class," you reminded the year 3s as they hurried out to the canteen, for lunch. You remained in your spot under the tree, looking at the pond not too far away.

It was your fourth day of skipping lunch and your body was far passed the protesting stage. You'd suffer through some of the worst migraines(a bit ironic) you ever experienced, your motions were slow and sluggish; by the time you'd eat dinner in the evening, you felt five seconds away from death.

You were contemplating a quick trip to the canteen for a small snack when the PA system crackled. "Can professor Y/n L/n make her way to Lady Lesso's office?." That was the first time you heard the redhead's voice for the week. Your heartbeat somehow simultaneously slowed down and sped up. You shivered, not from the chill in the air but from a fear of being in the same room as one of the women you spent the better part of the week avoiding.

Before you could even leave your spot below the tree, two wolf guards had made their way over to you. You knew the dean sent them to escort you to her office.

You found yourself outside the redhead's office much faster than you'd liked to. If it were up to you, the less than a five-minute walk would've been stretched to last the entirety of the lunch hour. But the wolf guards walked with a purpose; quick, even strides down the hallway.

"Come in, Y/n." You hadn't even raised your hand to knock, yet she knew you were on the other side of the door to her office. Just a door separating you from the woman you tried so hard to avoid. Only a few inches of thick wood obscured her from your vision.

You froze, hands clasped firmly around the door handle but not moving to open it. Fear and anxiety paralyzed you. Leaving you in a statue-like state outside the redheaded dean's office.

The sharp click-clack of her heels could be heard behind the door. She was coming to get you. You counted the number of steps before she opened the door.

She looked gorgeous. Fiery hair askew, their grey coat removed and pristine white shirt sleeves rolled up giving you the most perfect view of her arms. It took you a minute to compose yourself after ogling her.

"Normally, I'd love to have you staring at me but Rissa and I have something serious to discuss with you."  That might've been the fastest you'd ever flushed.

Either she didn't notice the red that adorned your cheeks, ears, and neck or she paid it no mind. Taking your hand she pulled you into her office, closing the door behind you both. Trapping you with the deans. A scenario you'd imagined after one too many glasses of merlot.

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A/n
I know it's not my best work, hopefully, the next chapter is better.
All errors are my own.
I really wanted to get this chapter out to you earlier but my birthday was last Thursday and I had a major case of the birthday blues.
Goodnight.
Aurea💜