FUCKED.

4

"Since when did we have a young dean in this school?" Keisha giggled, raising her head.

"He was actually transferred from another college two weeks ago. He's just a Dean for this year, replacing his father who has been struggling with cancer for two years. And besides, he's thirty-two and lost his wife exactly two years ago, so the ring means he's still mourning her death."

"How do you know all this?"

"I looked into his files and found some interesting details," she said, shifting on the couch. "He goes for therapy on weekends for some anger management issues, nothing too severe though."

"Can we change the topic? I don't want to hear about our Dean's private files," I chuckled, and Sapphire agreed.

"His name is Iris Kassif, Arabian, has two brothers who live in Mecca, and a sister who recently married the prime minister of health in Dubai. You should see her; she's pretty and busty like her mother."

I got up to check a text from Travis about the Art fair Michelson was hosting this year. I wanted to text back but got distracted by the girls watching a cartoon.

"What are you watching?"

"Home."

"Can we watch something else?"

"No." That was my cue to leave, but since I wanted to spend some time with the girls, I cuddled with them and sang along to some songs. It was a nice break.

We all eventually fell asleep on the couch, and I was woken up by my phone ringtone at eight. It was Travis, saying he was in front of the apartment. I quickly changed into shorts and a tank top for evening classes and left a note for Keisha before heading out.

Travis greeted me with a smile, clearly pleased with my casual outfit. "You look nice," he said, leaning in for a kiss, but I got into the car, not wanting to show public affection. Once inside, we had a brief, intense moment of passion, but it was more about reconnecting than anything else. He was tired, so I drove to college and went to my class.

At college, Mrs. Bushire had given me some documents to deliver to the Dean. I hesitated but decided to deliver them immediately. When I arrived at the Dean's office, I accidentally walked in on him in a private moment. I quickly handed over the documents, and he locked the door and turned off the lights.

"Mr. Kassif, I don't think this is necessary—"

He cut me off and took charge, but I was too overwhelmed to protest. The encounter was intense, and he was surprisingly assertive. Afterward, he helped me get dressed and carried me to what looked like a car. Exhausted, I closed my eyes, letting myself be taken home.

The last thing I heard was him saying, "Inamorata."